"I did not tell the human police that I know the source of these troubles," she said.
"What is it?" Alessandro asked, surprised.
She squeezed his fingers, reassuring. Once he relaxed, she rested her hands on his knees, the gesture both pleading and inviting. "I need your sword, my champion."
"Of course." His voice was suddenly rough from the weight of her touch. What do you really want of me?
She slid her hands up his thighs, her fingers caressing the worn denim. "I took you in when your clan perished. I gave you my protection when others would have made you their slave."
Her hands slid to his hips, and she leaned forward, her small, perfect body between his knees. His skin craved her, burned for relief from his endless solitude. She could see it in his face; he could tell. Her eyes searched his, seeking and finding his loneliness.
A slow smile showed the tips of her fangs. "You owe me this service."
In a single gesture Alessandro pushed his chair back and stood, putting space between himself and Omara. She looked up at him, amused speculation in her eyes.
"Tell me what you want me to do," he said, his voice carefully void of emotion.
"So obedient," she said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. She leaned back on the floor, reclining on one hip, exotic as an odalisque from some eastern realm.
"I am your knight. I do my duty."
"Or perhaps you merely want to know the worst. Find out what I want of you. You want to end this moment of suspense."
Alessandro stubbornly held her gaze. He Desired her. He dreaded whatever task she meant to set him, but he would obey because she was his queen. By vampire law, Omara held the slender threads of his existence. He would have given anything to bestow that power on a different, gentler woman.
Omara finally looked away. A small victory for him, but meaningless.
He bowed his head. "What is it you wish, my queen?" he asked, hiding his resignation.
Power assured, Omara gave him a look that smoked with dark satisfaction.
"The first thing I wish is to be taken care of," she said, rising from her knees with liquid grace. She put her hand on his chest. The light touch of her tapered fingers made his skin tingle with anticipation. "Take me somewhere. I have traveled all day, and I want sustenance. I want to walk into the darkest, deadliest places on your arm. We are the royalty of this little city, and I want my homage. Then, when I am rested, we shall talk of murders and enemies."
She kissed his lips lightly. "And after that, we shall see."
Chapter 7
Venue decisions were easy. There were only a handful of places in Fairview fit to entertain a vampire queen, so Alessandro chose the most elegant and discreet, a place named Sinsation.
"Quaint," said Omara, looking though the rafters of the ceiling to the empty loft above.
It was an old building, the interior gutted and left with wood and brick exposed, but the bar was made of granite, glass, and chrome. The light fixtures were something from a futurist's brain fever.
Sinsation was pretentious and expensive, but Alessandro liked the fact that one could carry on a conversation without screaming. A good feature, since he wanted answers. On the way there, Omara had given no hint about exactly what she wanted him to do.
Out of habit, Alessandro scanned the room. The bar was to his left, dwarfed by the shadows of the high ceiling. Toward the back a small, raised stage sat empty, only a man-sized candelabra filling the space with twin branches of flickering light. In front of it, each of the round tables was occupied by two or three patrons, a mix of vampires and humans.
The soft electronic music sounded like New Age gone to the dark side. It was easy to hear, because the murmur of voices stopped. All eyes, supernatural and human, turned to him and Omara with surprise and a hint of fear.
"Do they always stare this way?" Omara asked Alessandro in an amused whisper. She had her arm slipped through his, her face upturned to give him a sharp-toothed smile.
"They did not expect you, my queen."
As if of a single mind, the vampires rose and then fell to one knee in obeisance, the humans awkwardly following their lead. Alessandro studied each face. One set of eyes lifted and glittered unpleasantly, but looked away when Alessandro met that angry glare with one of his own.
Pierce, Alessandro thought with a flare of annoyance, and then turned deliberately away. The male was as irritating and unwholesome as chewing gum stuck to one's shoe.
Omara nodded to the crowd, bestowing a smile that was somehow both gracious and dismissive. "Greetings, my friends. Please carry on as you were. Enjoy the night."
There was a rustle as patrons resumed their seats. Then a hushed babble of conversation rose, urgent and filled with repressed exclamations. A hostess arrived and quickly cleared the best table. Alessandro and the queen waited politely while she worked.
Omara's hand tightened on his biceps. "John Pierce looks like he wishes to snap your neck."
Alessandro gave a slow smile. "Let him do his worst. I will put him in his place."
Omara laughed. "What an arrogant beast you are."
"I know my worth."
"Does he wish to replace you as my representative here?" The question was taunting. "Or perhaps take over your role as my battle champion?"
"He is nothing but a playboy and a dabbler in spells. More to the point, last year I was obliged to behead his brother."
Her eyes widened with interest. "I had forgotten. Why did that happen?"
"He attacked a human in anger. I merely did my duty."
"As you should, but watch yourself. Pierce will cause you trouble."
"I know. I look forward to his mistake."
The table was ready. Alessandro held the chair for Omara while she sat, an old habit that still lingered. A waitress appeared, clad in black slacks and crisp white blouse that showed soft, warm skin. Omara ordered a complicated martini. He ordered a dark Hungarian red wine, the thick vintage nicknamed Bull's Blood. His usual. The drinks were more props than sustenance, but it was a pleasant ritual. As the waitress left, Alessandro wondered how she might be described on a menu. A young vintage, but with a delicate bouquet?
Omara folded her hands on the glass surface of the table. Her rings sparkled in the dim light, shimmering with every movement of her fine-boned hands.
"To return to the murders, and what I wish you to do…" Omara said without preamble.
Alessandro straightened, glad she was finally ready to talk. "Yes?"
She ducked her head, licking her lips. It was a rare show of nerves. "I believe one of my old enemies has returned. I was not surprised when the Fairview police contacted me."
"Why not?"
"My home in Seattle was ransacked. Nothing was taken: not my money nor my business records. Not even my jewelry."
"Your books and implements of magic?" Alessandro asked anxiously. Omara possessed powerful, dangerous rarities any sorcerer would covet for his collection.
Her eyes went wide for a moment, perhaps envisioning that disaster. "No, those are safe."
"A blackmailer, perhaps? Someone looking for information?"
"No demands were made." Omara looked away. "It was odd, disturbing. Then the Fairview police called, wanting my advice, so I came. Perhaps the incidents were unrelated, but I doubt it. I believe the break-in was to put me on notice. Someone desires a fight. They have picked Fairview as their battleground."
"Was it wise to come?"
Her lip curled. "I do not run."
"But why Fairview? Since I've been here it's been a quiet city, at least until these murders."