"So, John," Omara began, "you have chosen a very elegant hunting ground. Very public. Very full of prominent city leaders."
Pierce did his best to look coy. "No laws have been broken, my queen. It was not a hunt, but a meeting. Fully consensual, I might add. Ms. Anderson and I are already well acquainted."
The queen was unimpressed. If she had a tail, it would have been lashing. "My rules are simple, Pierce. Humans are easily upset. If you're going to feed in their territory, get a room."
Miranda leaned forward. "But I'm not upset. John knows what I like. The thrill is doing it where we might be seen."
Omara looked almost shocked; then her face hardened to fury. Awkward silence grew rancid. Omara lunged across the table, grabbed Pierce's wrist, and yanked the bleeding ring from his finger. He gasped in pain, but the queen paid no heed. She thrust the ring under his nose. "These old ways are gone! How dare you flaunt your bloodlust? Would you bring this peace we have forged with the humans crashing down upon our heads?"
Pierce flushed pink, his cheeks hot with stolen blood. "I broke no laws. She asks for it."
"You broke the spirit of our pact. We can feed, but no one wants to see the thing done. To them we are nothing but foul leeches."
"And yet you accepted my offering the other night."
Omara's eyes widened with irritation. "That was our own ground, where we rule. This is the human realm, where I come to flatter and amuse the day-dwelling potentates. This is where I cozen and beg for every scrap of legal protection for our kind. You will not shatter my efforts with your idiot games!"
And you will not betray me. The words were unspoken, but Alessandro heard them all the same.
Pierce fumed, muscles bunching beneath his elegant gray suit. "Those 'idiot games' are our traditions, my queen. Would you so easily discount our honored past?"
Omara jerked as if slapped.
That's enough. Alessandro lashed out a hand, snatching the collar of Pierce's jacket. "When the queen speaks, you do not question."
Pierce moved to strike, but Alessandro caught his wrist. Miranda covered her face, her breath coming in frightened sobs.
Calmer now, Omara picked up her glass and took a sip of wine. "Easy, my champion. Let him go."
Reluctantly Alessandro uncurled his fingers. Pierce slid back into place.
"You do not like this new world, John?" Omara asked softly. "You miss the old ways of terror and mystery?"
The anger was still there, but with a degree of pain as well. Pierce had wounded Omara, and that surprised Alessandro. Interesting. She was vulnerable to the worm.
Pierce ducked his head. "I do miss the past. It is so much harder to survive now."
"You could always get a job," Alessandro said helpfully.
"But he has," Omara said, her voice dark. "Dare I guess what you are about tonight, John? You were charming this pretty businesswoman. She has what you need: blood and money. In other words, you've gone for the oldest profession of all."
The last words were steeped in disgust. In reply Pierce gave her a look charged with sexual heat and defiance. "So what if I have? Women like Miranda appreciate my skills."
Alessandro snorted. "You're a gigolo."
He saw the word sting. Pierce lolled back in his seat, putting his hand on Miranda's bare knee. His leer showed fang.
Omara leered right back, but made it terrifying. "Does she taste good, John? She smells of diet pills and carbonation."
Pierce grimaced with embarrassment as Omara grabbed the girl's arm and sniffed the inside of her wrist, lingering above the freshly-closed wound. "I grant you her skin is beautiful to look at, like alabaster touched with rivulets of lapis. Sadly, you can't judge a vintage by its label."
"Hey, I don't swing your way!" Miranda protested, trying to twist her arm away. She whimpered beneath Omara's crushing grip, anxiety banishing the haze of the venom.
The queen's honey-gold eyes turned as hard as agate, her lip lifting to show the tips of her teeth. "You dare to tempt us with your snow-white flesh. Now you will do what you're told, meat."
She dragged her tongue along Miranda's inner arm, sucking a little where the veins rose beneath the skin. A human heartbeat passed. In that moment Alessandro saw the naked hunger in Omara's face, the veil lifted from a millennia of carnage. He knew that appetite of old, had seen it in the queen's face time and again. He felt it in his own flood of arousal. His saliva began to run.
Alessandro heard the low, almost inaudible growl of Pierce's territorial protest. The air grew heavy with threat.
Miranda shot Pierce a look of wild panic, the truth slamming her with the force of a train. She finally wrested her arm free. "Omigod, let me out of here."
Surprise! We We monsters! Alessandro thought dryly.
Pierce touched her shoulder. "Miranda, please don't go."
The mere command was enough. Miranda froze, cradling her arm. "What do you want me to do?" Her voice was small and hushed. The sound of a venom-slave. No will of her own. No future beyond the next bite.
Pierce shot a glance at Omara. The queen nodded. Pierce turned back to his human. "Go upstairs now. Go on. Get up."
Miranda rose. Pierce stood as well, handing Miranda her purse and kissing her lightly on the cheek. "Go upstairs to the room. I'll meet you there as soon as I can."
Alessandro watched the woman retreat, the sway of her hips in the electric blue dress almost, but not quite, worth a moment's distraction. Junk food.
"Well, John, I wonder what other secrets you've kept from me?" Omara asked icily. "There have been some curious incidents in Fairview of late."
Pierce gave her a bewildered look.
Stupid? Alessandro wondered. Or just a very, very good actor?
Omara was impassive. "We need to speak in private."
Alessandro saw Pierce turn sheet-white. He glanced at the queen. She was studying Pierce with a wistful expression. Normally a private audience with Omara meant punishment. Here Alessandro wasn't sure what would happen, and he didn't like mysteries where the queen was involved. She was unpredictable enough.
As if to illustrate his thoughts, she made one of her mercurial shifts. "Alessandro, come."
She rose. He followed her. Pierce stayed behind, tossing back one glass of wine, refilling it, and then drinking that, too.
Omara stopped close to the entrance to the lounge.
"Are you sure you want to see him alone?" asked Alessandro.
Omara gave him a veiled look. "That is what I wish."
He stifled a curse. "Do you truly think he's mixed up with our enemies?"
"Or perhaps a vapid, self-involved twit. Or both. Leave it to me." Omara's tone brooked no further argument. "Despite what I said earlier, the bleeding ring is not evidence of anything but poor judgment. However, it is a good excuse to frighten him into confessions."
"What about the woman?"
Omara gave a slow smile. "John must learn to share. Do you have any idea who she is?"
"A Realtor. I overheard their conversation. Holly Carver's lover is trying to sell her house. Idiot bastard."
"A fool indeed. A witch never parts with her home." Omara's brow contracted. "Wait a moment. Did you say your little witch has a boyfriend?" Playfully Omara wound her finger in one of Alessandro's curls. "You are in her life, you admire her, and yet she loves another? How does that happen?"
Dangerous territory. Alessandro shrugged. "You are my queen."
Omara gave a rueful, lopsided smile. The expression was unusual for her. "You fear my jealousy, so you aim to please. Not a bad plan, except you're a pathetic liar. I may be your queen, but I do not rule your heart."