The two vampires linked arms and began to stroll the room.

“We haven’t had a chance to meet until now,” Gemma said in a low voice, conscious of the many ears around them. “What have I missed?”

“Very little. You know how it is.” Juliette waved an arm around the room. “Look at all these beautiful old people. Lovely, rich, and boring. Tell me about Paris. Things are always more interesting there.”

“And more unstable. Why did Francis ask me to accompany him tonight? Is his position secure? Is my information faulty?” Gemma had long been accustomed to vampires in power, particularly males, courting her favor. Her sire was one of the oldest in the British Isles. Her brother was the power behind anyone who ruled Ireland. She had two brothers in Northern France who were quickly making names for themselves. Gemma’s clan was powerful and rich. Attention was to be expected, but she’d moved back to London to enjoy a break from politics.

“Francis is fine,” Juliette said. “I’m trying to think of any major challenge in the last ten years, to be honest. There hasn’t been, that I know of. Probably in part due to his new second.”

“Who is it?”

“A nobody.” Juliette shrugged at Gemma’s questioning look. “Truly. No one knows where he comes from. He’s certainly English, according to his horrid accent, but other than that…” Another lazy shrug and a pout. “No one knows.”

“Water vampire?”

“Of course. Everyone assumes Francis sired him after he found him in a dingy alley, but no one asks.”

“Naturally.” Gemma’s eyes scanned the room for new faces. There were a sprinkling of unfamiliars, but all in the company of vampires Gemma knew. Lots of humans, some for sport and others present for their business of social connections. No one who fit Juliette’s description.

“Is he loyal?” For some reason, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Someone was watching her. She whipped her head around, but spotted no one.

Juliette’s attention had been drawn across the room by a pair of humans in military attire. “Who?”

Gemma smiled to herself. Her friend always did have a taste for a man in uniform. “This new second, is he loyal to Francis?”

She may not have wanted the close connection that Francis did, but she did like the vampire. She considered him a friend. Even more, he was a known entity. Gemma had just moved back to England. She didn’t relish having to navigate through an unfamiliar power structure when she’d rather be exploring the new shops or riding the horse she’d just had transported from Belgium.

“Follows him around like a loyal guard dog.” Juliette narrowed in on the two humans. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I’m famished, my friend. You?”

Gemma eyed the two men. One was tall and blond, the other had dark curls that reminded her of someone she knew. “How very indelicate to mention it, Julie. The dark one is mine.”

“Greedy.” The men stood, red-faced by the women’s obvious attentions.

“Come, Major.” Juliette once again took advantage of her fetching accent and laid a bare hand on the man’s wrist. “Come with me.”

Blinking through the amnis that had flooded his mind, the blond officer nodded. Gemma quickly laid her hands on the other, leading him to the garden where a dark corner waited. She felt her fangs grow long as the man’s scent hit her nose. She’d been waiting for days to truly drink, knowing that Juliette always had the most delicious humans at her parties. But as she sunk her fangs into the man’s soft neck and he let out a quiet groan of pleasure, she felt it again.

Watching. Someone was watching her. There was a frisson of energy that snaked toward her, even as she drank her fill of the rich blood in her arms. A teasing, testing waft of amnis curled and twisted along the ground. It snaked along her angles in the misty night, until Gemma spun, furious to be distracted from her meal. She heard the human sag against the hedge.

“Who disturbs me?” she said just loud enough to be heard.

She heard his low laugh as he walked out of the fog. “So sorry to interrupt your meal, m’lady.”

The vampire was nothing more than a looming shadow outlined by the lights of the house. He stood like a dark omen with the evening fog swirling around him. Gemma lifted her chin, making no move to wipe away the blood she could feel at the edge of her mouth. Her fangs were still long and throbbing.

“I highly doubt you are truly sorry. And I am no lady.”

“Is that so?” He stepped forward and Gemma forced herself to remain still. “That’s the best news I’ve heard tonight.”

Her lip curled for a moment, but when the unknown vampire walked out of the shadows, she closed her mouth to conceal her reaction.

Power.

He radiated it. It was young and untamed, but it poured off him in waves. Not the old, formidable strength she’d come to associate with the oldest of their kind, but a quick lash that seemed to spark and jump around him. A water vampire. The evening fog clung to him, curling around his legs like a cat as he strode through the night.

His eyes locked with hers. Young, yes, but not intimidated. His eyes were blue-grey like the northern oceans, and his body was powerful. Broad shoulders over narrow hips. Strong legs. An athlete’s body. Unlike most men in her circles, this man made no effort to conceal his brute strength. Gemma doubted he could have if he tried. His sandy hair was not combed fashionably, but cropped close to his head, and his cheeks sported a dark stubble that told Gemma he had little use for the careful grooming most vampires adhered to in the modern age.