A creature of unfathomable power, she was alone, and in his house. This cannot be good, he thought. Random anxieties crowded his mind. He was overdue in sending a report. He had no one to offer as food. He hadn't vacuumed for a week. Then there were the campus murders. Surely she
could not already know one of us is responsible? Why is she here? Why is she here alone?
The answer came at once as the Desire flared. She bent down and kissed his mouth, caressing with her tongue. Alessandro could taste her power, hot and pungent, as she explored him, licking, pricking her lip on his sharp teeth. Blood blossomed, richer and sweeter than any other. The ichor of a queen.
The twin goads of hunger and lust rose again, drawing him from his knees to his feet. She was his ruler; he was aching to serve her in all things. He knew how to make her forget her royal dignity. Perhaps she could make him forget how badly he wanted Holly.
With a rough shove Omara pushed him back, her eyes amused. "How eager you are." She ran one finger over his lips, wiping away the last of her blood. "And how pleasant that you are entirely mine to enjoy. No clan. No sire still among us. Such exclusive loyalty is surprisingly hard to come by."
Alessandro lowered his eyes, cursing his body's ready response. He feared her, because she knew his weakness. Every day of his immortal life he suffered on the wheel of solitude. One day he would break.
Abandoning him where he stood, Omara crossed to the couch and sat, tucking her feet beside her. She had shown her power over him. The opening pleasantries were over.
"An interesting place you have chosen for yourself." She looked calmly around the room. "Spare, but choice pieces. A suitably Gothic layer of dust. You need a servant."
He stood speechless, mute with strangled need.
She ran a finger over the side table, then inspected it. "Perhaps a French maid?"
Alessandro fought to collect his thoughts. He had been the queen's representative in Fairview for years and her retainer for centuries before that. She had taken him into her household even before she had worn the crown. Long experience had taught him the danger of falling for her games.
But there was tension in her face. What could trouble a creature powerful enough to rule dozens upon dozens of vampire clans? Omara uncurled her legs, sitting up straight. "Please have a seat."
Alessandro sank into an easy chair, looking at his queen across the clutter of library books on his glass coffee table. Resentment roiled inside him, the aftermath of that teasing kiss. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?" he asked, carefully polite.
She looked down, as if mesmerized by the creases in the leather couch. "My head is filled with problems I cannot solve by fire or sword. I dislike this modern age."
Alessandro took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The sudden shift in tone was typical of Omara. "Are you disappointed that all the Van Helsings of the world traded in their stakes and holy water for tax audits?"
Omara shrugged. "I have highly paid accountants to deal with those little men."
"Then why dislike this century?"
"Since we came out of the shadows, my role as leader has become more complex. Citizenship. Legal rights. They come at a price. We must obey human rules. If our community makes a mistake, we have so much more to lose."
Alessandro did not reply, keeping his opinions to himself. Most of the supernatural community still existed on the fringe of society, reviled by humans. Laws were fine, but fear and hatred ran deep. Still, he knew Omara would fight like the nightmare she was to further the interests of her people. He would not deny that she was an effective queen.
Omara sighed, as if impatient with his silence. "The human authorities are investigating a string of vampire murders in this area. You know about this?"
Alessandro frowned. "Yes."
"The police contacted me. I came here as a diplomat, to lend the vampire community's support to their inquiries."
"But I only just found out the murders involve one of us. How long ago did the humans call you?"
Omara studied one of her bracelets, twisting it around and around her slender wrist. "They called me two days ago as a courtesy. Every member of our local community is under their scrutiny."
She shook the bracelet back into place and gave him her full attention. The weight of her gaze brought heat to the nape of his neck. "I told them at once you were above reproach."
"They might not believe you."
"There will be others who can corroborate your whereabouts."
"I work alone, and I don't know when the murders took place. There may be no one who can swear to my innocence."
"If you do not have suitable alibis for the dates and times in question, I will see to it they are found." She gave a conspiratorial smile.
Alessandro nodded. "Your confidence is appreciated."
"I need you. You do me no good in a police lockup."
"We may need to work quickly. Tonight I gave the police reason to come knocking on my door." He summarized the night's events.
Omara listened, a small line forming between her brows as the tale ended. "Show me the token you found."
It was in the pocket of the coat he had left in the kitchen. He went and got it.
Omara held the metal disk under the light of the lamp. "It is, as you say, very old." She made a small noise of interest as she turned it over. "Some of these tokens have the image of Eurydice on the reverse. This one does not. That means it dates, oh, from before the Black Death, at least. The metal-smiths included her only after that era."
Alessandro curled his lip. "Is that when those ridiculous fantasies about the Chosen began?"
She looked up and laughed, sudden merriment making her look almost like a living girl. "Ah, if you could only see the derision on your face. The myth of the Chosen sends you to sleep, does it? You do not care how Orpheus risked all to rescue Eurydice from death's embrace?"
Alessandro gave a scornful wave of his fingers. "Fables for fledglings. I am not a romantic."
"Are you sure about that?" Omara smiled, her lips holding a universe of promises. "Come now, the myth of the Chosen is the Grail Quest of our kind."
"Enough. I know the story. True love holds our release from this vale of living death, just as Orpheus reclaimed his wife from Hades."
"Oh, then how can you resist it? Are you such a sad cynic?"
"I don't care how much a mortal might love a vampire; that vampire must feed."
Omara lifted one perfect shoulder. "Then you miss the point entirely. The vampire Chosen by a living mate can feed on their love, sustained through the lust of the body instead of the lust for blood." Her eyes glinted from under her lashes. "No wonder the legend is so popular. I ask you, what's not to like about that? Except eternal monogamy, of course."
Alessandro caught his breath, snagged despite himself by the promise of the myth. A Chosen could love without destroying. An impossible dream. "Orpheus failed. Eurydice never made it out of Hades."
Omara leaned back against the cushions, clearly enjoying his bleak mood. "A beautiful story, and all you see are the flaws in the metaphor. Orpheus failed because he had insufficient faith. He did not trust the dark gods enough for the magic to work."
"I empathize," Alessandro said dryly. "I have little patience with false hopes and bedtime stories, especially when there are other, more immediate problems to solve—like an unknown vampire leaving his leftovers for the police to find."
"You are a work-obsessed bore." She blew him a kiss.
"I'm a pragmatist."
"And I would rather talk about anything but this killer and his tokens, but our cold, gray new world will not oblige." Standing, she circled the end of the coffee table and knelt before him. Alessandro started to rise, but she caught his hands, keeping him still.