When he woke, Sebastian stared at the scarred, smoke-tinted ceiling in his cramped, impersonal room. What now? something asked in his mind.
What now?
“Say my name.”
“Max.”
Victoria closed her eyes. She might not be certain exactly where she was, or what had happened to that whispery pink gown, or even whether the glow from the window was moonbeam or early dawn… but one thing she knew for certain was the man next to her.
Her mouth curved beneath his as he bent to kiss her yet again. The scrape of his whiskers had long ceased to bother her tender skin, and her own musky taste lingered on his lips and tongue. His body was long and warm and very, very powerful. Very skillful.
Very welcome.
“And you are?” he murmured against her mouth, settling into her in a lovely, deep slide. Again. Oh, yes, again.
Victoria caught her breath, arching a bit closer to the hair-roughened skin pressed against hers. She spread her hands over the smooth slide of muscle on his back. Her world had slowed from a taut, frantic whirlwind to one slower, more deliberate.
She barely remembered to answer him. “I’m… Jane?”
His cheek moved, and she knew he was smiling.
Max smiling. A wonder.
But then her thoughts evaporated as that smile eased and they began to move together. His mouth against her neck, his face buried in her hair. She felt the warm rush of his breath and felt a whisk of lashes against her temple as pleasure rose inside her… higher, stronger… and then she slid over in a long, undulating wave.
She felt his quiet groan of completion against her cheek, and her eyes slid closed… and her long, loose, sated body eased into sleep.
Victoria woke sometime later. Even though her eyes were closed, she felt the burn of sunlight on them, and she knew it was well into the day.
She lay still for a moment, aware of the warmth of Max’s body next to her, afraid to open her eyes and find… whatever would be the results of the night before. The last time-the only other time-she and Max had been together thus, she’d awakened to a man with regret and bald fear blazing across his face.
She didn’t think she could accept that again.
She didn’t think her heart could.
A knock at the door had her eyes flying open, despite her intentions otherwise; but before she could respond, the knob turned, and it began to open.
In the bed behind her, Max growled, “Get out,” and Victoria saw the door jerk slightly open-as if someone jolted in surprise-and then whip shut, as if that same person was mortified. She smothered a chuckle. That would give Verbena something to talk about.
For days.
Girding herself, she turned her head to find Max’s dark eyes regarding her.
“Good morning… Jane,” he said. A slight twitch moved the corner of his mouth.
No regret. No fear. Even… a bit of humor? Victoria began to feel warmth bubble inside her. “Good morning. Do you have one foot on the floor, ready to dash off?” She kept her voice light, yet she realized that she was holding her breath.
“Is there a reason I should dash off? The return of a husband or lover?” he asked, his voice light… yet… yet… she felt an underlying edge to it. Subtle, but present.
“No.” She sat up. The coverlet fell away, drawing his attention… and his fingertips… to her bared torso. “Max,” she said, as his long, elegant fingers brushed gently over her skin, “I want you to know that… it was never like this with Sebastian. What I mean to say is, he never… we never slept. Or woke. Together. It was always much more… furtive with Sebastian.”
“Hmm,” said Max, in a decidedly un-Max-like tone, “should I be offended that you do recall his name after all?”
But then the glint of humor ebbed, and his face grew serious. “I preferred not to think about what did and didn’t occur between the two of you.”
“Nothing,” Victoria said, noticing the way the white sheets appeared so crisp against his dark skin, “like what happened last night.”
“Nothing?”
“Well, perhaps… some of the mechanics were similar,” she replied, with a tug of guilt. It had been much more than mechanics with Sebastian. But they hadn’t left her feeling as sated, as content… as fulfilled… as she did now.
Max slid from beneath the covers, and Victoria turned to watch his tall, graceful body. The silver vis bulla still hung from his areola. She remembered in a burst of clarity the way the smooth, warm metal had clinked against her teeth last night and the extra surge of power she felt from it.
Mmm.
But as Max scanned the room, Victoria smothered a smile. Having been married, she was well used to men’s early-morning needs and gestured Max toward the chamber pot in the dressing room beyond.
While he was gone and she took advantage of the privacy for her own needs, Victoria wondered not for the first time what had changed his mind. Not that she’d spent a lot of energy mulling over it during the activities of the night… and morning. But it worried her.
Max had been pushing her at Sebastian for months. He’d been ready to leave last night, and Victoria had no illusion that he’d have returned.
But she’d said something that had changed his mind, for Victoria knew that the sheer pink night rail hadn’t done the job on its own, and she suspected that what had tipped the scales was the confession that she’d not been with Sebastian in months.
I’ve no interest in Vioget’s leavings.
Or is it that you don’t want to know your child’s patrimony?
That had to be it. He’d made comments before about her long line of lovers, and he’d thought she meant to dally with them both. She hoped last night’s confession had set him straight.
When Max came back into her chamber, he stood in the doorway for a moment lacing his simple trousers. Victoria swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She forgot her intent to confront him about his decision to stay. Those sleek muscles, the broad, square shoulders, the dark hair dusting swarthy skin…
“Did you learn anything from Vioget yesterday?” he asked without preamble.
Victoria looked sharply at him, but she saw nothing but normal interest in his expression. Ah. Back to the matter at hand. “He says we need the Rings of Jubai,” she replied, feeling his gaze follow her as she pulled on a thin robe. “He also told me that Lilith has protections on the pool at Muntii Fagaras so that no one can breach the water.”
“And the rings? To trade with Lilith so we can get the orb?”
Victoria shook her head. “Lilith had them made-five copper rings that she gave to her most powerful Guardian vampires. According to Sebastian, when all five are worn on one hand, they allow the hand to reach safely into the pool.”
Max’s face had become more serious and intent as she spoke. He nodded once. “Vioget’s information is usually accurate. At least his years with Beauregard have brought us some advantage.”
“We have two of the Rings of Jubai,” Victoria said, more to herself than to Max. “One Sebastian retrieved from Lilith’s underground lair last month.”
“I recall,” Max replied drily. Indeed he should, for Victoria and Sebastian had intended to trade the ring for Max’s freedom if there was no other way for him to escape from Lilith. “And the other is in the Consilium.”
“Sebastian tells me a third is somewhere in Prague.”
“Prague? I haven’t been there in years,” Max said. “Does Vioget know where?”
“He claims he can locate it. He’s already agreed to go with me.” She looked at him. “And you… if you wish.”
Max straightened and looked out the window. His dark hair hung, rumpled and thick, framing his face, brushing the sides of his neck, making Victoria want to touch it.
But she wasn’t yet confident enough to do so. Max could just as easily pull back as allow it.
“I must find a vampire,” he said, still looking out the window. His jaw seemed tight, and the beam of sunlight scored his high cheekbones.