“And as I said, you need a babysitter more than Kane does.”

“You allow a babysitter for your child?” He was alarmed at the thought. A vampire infant, one young enough to be passed off as someone else’s, was a tempting target to infertile vampires who wanted the status a vampire child brought to them.

“Of course not. Remind me to hurt you when I see you, for thinking I’m that irresponsible. Either Jacob or I am with him at all times, but Danny and Dev have offered to give us a night out. It would be nice to go hunting, and enjoy other primal pursuits.” The warmth to her tone told him she was looking toward Jacob. The yearning in his gut twisted further.

“All right. See you in a few days, where I can thank you even more properly. I need to call . . . Amara.” He clicked off before Lyssa could call him a liar. Holding the phone up to the dim moonlight, he figured out how to redial his own number.

“My lord?” When he swore and turned, he found he’d made the Council attendant pale for the second time this evening. “The . . .

the Council is ready to give their decision.”

“Fine. I’ll be down in a few minutes. Aren’t you Uthe’s servant?”

“I am one of his assistants, but I belong to the castle, my lord. Part of the second-marked staff that serves the Council. My name is Gretchen.”

“Are you here of your free will?” When she nodded, he scowled at her. “Then learn how to mask your reaction to vampire temper.

Most of us are quite irritable. Your jumpiness makes you look like prey, and vampires feel much less cranky if we’ve fed.” Since she went three shades whiter, his well-meaning advice obviously wasn’t perceived that way. Then he heard a voice in his hand.

“Hello?”

He brought the receiver up to his ear, realizing he must have hit the dial number after all. “Jessica?”

“My lord, it sounds like you’re frightening someone half to death.”

“Why are you answering the phone?”

“Amara said it would be you. That you were calling back to talk to me.” He shook his head, waved Gretchen away, holding up a couple fingers to indicate he would be down in a few minutes. He waited until she departed to speak. “I wanted to check on you. I know I left rather abruptly.”

“You did. Amara said you’re meeting the Council.”

The underlying tension in her voice was easy to read. “I am. But whatever the outcome, Jessica, you will be safe. I promise you that.”

She paused a long moment. “None of us is safe, my lord.”

There was a sadness to her tone now. Daylight would be waning there, and twilight was often when she felt most vulnerable, too close to her past, as if that veil between day and night held the power to call her back to Raithe’s world.

“You are safe,” he repeated. “I won’t accept anything less.”

“As Farida was safe?” When his mind froze, she continued, her tone thoughtful. “I’m not trying to be cruel. It’s like you just said to that girl, heavy-handed though it was. You were trying to teach her what the reality of life is. We can rely on each other, we can rely on ourselves, but a certain portion of Fate is out of our hands. You reminded me of it, when you rescued me. The best thing we can do is cherish every moment of joy and safety we have and not be afraid to live our lives, no matter how long or short that is.” Easing a hip on the wall, he looked out over the lights of the distant city. He missed the sea, the rain forest. The smell of Jessica’s hair and skin. He wanted to make her smile. “Heavy-handed, hmm? Maybe I should show you how heavy-handed I can be.”

“You have done so in the past, my lord.” He was pleased her tone changed, became prim. “You spank like a girl.” He laughed then; he couldn’t help it. Allah, he missed her. “You say that only because I’m not close enough to prove you wrong.” Her voice lowered, but he heard the tremor in her words, words that drove away all humor and left him feeling far too lonely in the foggy night air. “Farida was lucky to have you for the short time she did. A lifetime wouldn’t have been enough. When I leave, I will think well of you, my lord. That’s something I never thought I’d say about a vampire.”

“Jessica.” He stood, but she’d already hung up. He wished he had Lyssa’s range, enhanced by her Fey abilities, because he’d have sent thoughts to Jessica that would warm all parts of her, not merely the lovely curve of her bottom. Drive that melancholy away, convince her . . . of what? How could he send her the feelings that her words had stirred, when he didn’t know what they were himself? When I leave . . .

“Get on with it,” he muttered, pocketing the phone. “Nine hundred years old and gone stupid over a child. Go help her. Let her live her life.”

22

STUDYING herself in the mirror provided in Mason’s private plane, Jessica pushed down anxiety. She and Amara had worked together with the cook, who was an expert seamstress, to alter the dress, which had fit Amara’s taller, more voluptuous frame, and she had to admit the results were impressive. But she wasn’t used to seeing her self like this. Hell, even after two months, she was still surprised to see a healthy young woman looking back at her.

It had been a long time since she’d made herself beautiful for someone she wanted to see her that way, rather than dressing at the command of a vampire who wanted her paraded like a show dog. Of course, beyond the decision to dress up, she didn’t even have a strategy. Her nebulous intentions would likely disperse like frightened birds when confronted with the reality of him. Then he’d withdraw from her again. She didn’t know if that relieved her or made her want to scream.

Straightening, she laid a hand flat over her abdomen, stilling the butterflies that seemed to have razor blades for wings. Meeting her own flashing eyes, she noted the lift of her chin, the stubborn tightening of it. “You will not see a damsel in distress tonight, my lord.”

They’d used the off-road vehicles to get to Mason’s private airstrip, taking his plane to the nearby city where the club was located.

Mason had called Amara two days before and let her know he was wrapping up the details in Berlin. Though he was running later than expected, he’d gallantly refused to have them reschedule the club visit. He’d told Amara he’d charter a plane to the city’s airport and meet them there tonight.

He hadn’t relayed the Council’s decision to Amara, or asked to speak to Jessica again, not since their one and only intriguing conversation. Which meant Mason would deliver the decision in person, and he wanted Jessica to hear it first.

She wasn’t overly eager to hear the decision. From the beginning, the Council had been little more than a distant concept to her.

What mattered was he’d promised she’d be safe, and she wanted to believe him. Whatever the decision was, she’d manage it. But she wanted tonight just for this.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” she asked her reflection, knowing her color was a little too high, her pupils too large. If nothing else, her nervousness about the tattoo she’d chosen, the way she’d dressed tonight, and thinking about how Mason would react, had helped take her mind off the kind of club they were visiting.

Enrique and Amara had both assured her the limo would be available to bring her back to the plane if things got to be too much.

With its security contingent, fully stocked bar and snacks, and cable television, she’d be comfortable. There was even a rack of movies. Rifling through them, she’d wondered if they were solely for Mason’s human passengers, or if he really liked Sleepless in Seattle. It brought a smile to her face, imagining him switching to cable, tempted by shopping network purchases or considering the plethora of male enhancement drugs.

A vampire on Viagra. Good God. A lethal weapon, for certain.

“I’d ask if you’re ready, but if you get any lovelier, we’d all trip over our tongues.” Amara peered in, her own breathtaking face wreathed in a smile. Surprising to Jessica, she’d abandoned her flowing and tailored garments for provocative club wear tonight.

Black liquid latex pants with silver cat buckle ties down the sides showed flesh from waist to ankle. They were paired with a white silk top, cut into long strips from the high throat to the belted waistband so the curve of breast and lines of the ribs were revealed as she turned. The high throat was collared with a filigree silver slave collar, matching the design of the belt. The liquid latex was so tight and thin that when Enrique had put his hand on her hip earlier, Jessica had noted it was like closing his hand on his wife’s buttock, the flesh as soft and malleable beneath his hand as it was when naked, only now polished with that slick surface layer.

“Lord Mason has called to say he’s at the club, so we can head over there. He’ll meet us out front. He said we’ve picked a popular night. There’s quite a crowd.”

She didn’t have anything for her nervous hands, because Amara was carrying the small bag with the few toiletries they might want.

Mason of course was paying for everything. So it was Amara’s hands that closed over her cold, tense fists.

“I don’t want to have a panic attack tonight. I don’t.” Jessica turned pleading eyes to Amara, as if she could prevent how her own body might turn against her. Crowds of people, all of them into subjugation, suffering . . . dominance.

“Jess, shhh. You won’t. Remember what Lord Mason told you, about submission?” When Jessica shook her head, Amara rubbed a soothing thumb over her knuckles. “There is a tremendous difference between the beauty of willing submission and the horror of forced servitude. This club only permits the former, so it’s like visiting a surreal, magnificent garden of aroused bodies, perfumed with their desire to please one another.”

“I feel like a weed, then.”

Amara smiled softly, but she shifted her touch to Jess’s bare shoulders. “You know the difference, Jess. You may not in your head, but your heart knows. That’s why you’re here. I know you’re ready for this. You may stumble tonight. You may even have to come back to the plane, but the very fact you chose to come this far says you believe in your ability to heal. Everything tonight is your choice. Everything . Don’t let Raithe take that away from you.” She remembered her thought when looking in the mirror only minutes ago. She wasn’t a damsel in distress. Raithe was dead. She’d killed him.