So. His tracker had been used as bait. But for who? At this point, it didn’t really matter. Whether wittingly or unwittingly, Lucan had drawn out Ariane—and revealed himself. Sariel’s suspicions had been confirmed. But it remained to be seen whether Sammael was a part of this against his will or by choice.

Oren hoped very much it was the former. Killing one of his brethren was enough. He would not have the pleasure of destroying their other deserter. Pacing the room, he looked for clues that were, to his annoyance, not there. Every breath carried with it the scent of roses.

Ariane.

He wished Sariel had not been so adamant that she be returned alive.

At least now she would be easy to track. How she had involved herself with the Shade he neither knew nor cared. It was a useful coincidence. And the cat, clever and foolish in equal measure, had no doubt been blinded by her beauty, drawn to the very weakness that made her unfit to wear her mark.

Disappointing, in a way. But useful. She would be out of the way soon, and then the important work could resume. The cat had been an excellent choice, like the hounds that human hunters used to flush out the fox, though he doubted the Shade would care for the analogy.

A strange night. But he was one step closer to Lucan, and to Sammael. Sariel would be pleased.

Oren sprang up, his wings unfurling in that single, graceful leap to carry him up through the opening that Lucan had left in the roof. The traitor was close. Ariane was closer.

“Sleep well, sister,” Oren murmured as he soared above the lights of the city. “Soon, you return home.”

Chapter Nine

ONE THING ARIANE had picked up quickly was how easy it was to find humans to feed on. She’d never needed to hunt in the desert, but she’d quickly learned once she’d left. There was a pleasure in it that she’d been reluctant to allow herself to feel at first. The Grigori regarded feeding as a function of biology, nothing more. But the thrill of pursuit, the taste of warm life on her tongue as a human melted into her arms…

There was plenty appealing about all of it. And from what she’d seen, the Grigori were the only ones who didn’t admit to enjoying the process.

She looked up into the eyes of the human she’d lured into a dark corner of the bar, her body pressed against his. He smiled at her, his gaze a little hazy both from the beer he’d been drinking and the light thrall she’d put on him so that he would behave himself. His arms were loosely wrapped around her, his hands resting at the small of her back.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he murmured. She rose up on her toes, a smile curving her lips.

“So sweet,” she said. “Let me give you a kiss.”

He moved to meet her lips, but she tilted her head to avoid the kiss, instead pressing her mouth against the warm skin of his neck. She heard the shuddering sigh and knew it was time. Ariane nuzzled into his neck, knowing her hair hid what she was doing from whoever might pass by, and sank her teeth in. The man didn’t even flinch, instead gathering her even closer with a soft groan as she began to feed, drawing deeply from him.

“That’s a pretty picture,” a voice murmured in her ear. “And flattering. Do you always bite men who look like me, kitten?”

Startled but sated, Ariane licked the bite wound to seal it and then pulled away from this evening’s blood donor. She could feel Damien hovering inches away from her, knew that if she leaned back, she’d be pressed against him. The thought was tempting, but she had other things to attend to first—and no matter how much she wanted him, she sensed that to actively pursue him would only end in unhappiness. Damien struck her as a man who tired of his toys easily.

“I have to go. Run along back to your friends now,” she told the man—Matt, she remembered—staring into his eyes again. He blinked, looking confused, and nodded.

“Okay… wish you didn’t have to… later…” He wandered away, bumping into a bar stool a few feet away before continuing on. He didn’t look back, and Ariane knew that by the time he returned to his friends, he would have forgotten almost everything about her, save for the fact that she’d slipped away.

And damn it, he did bear a resemblance to Damien. She hadn’t done it purposely, but there was no question she’d had the Shade on her mind.

Ariane turned to look at her company. The smug expression on Damien’s face told her that he’d gotten over whatever had rattled him so much about their encounter last night. His usual snarky, disaffected façade was firmly back in place.

“I would have let you bite me, if I’d realized you were so keen on it,” Damien said. “No need for a poor imitation like that.”

“And what then? When this is all over, you’d run off and I’d be left with a mark that looks like a flying cat, probably,” she said. Taking enough blood from another vampire would permanently alter one’s dynasty mark. For a highblood, sullying that mark generally resulted in expulsion from the dynasty, so the change most often signified either a great love or a terrible punishment.

This would be neither, and Ariane didn’t think she wanted to carry a reminder of her first great lust on her body forevermore.

“There’s nothing wrong with a flying cat,” Damien replied with a shrug. “It would be unique.” He didn’t deny that he would vanish after this. She needed to remember that.

His eyes darkened as he leaned close. “Not to mention, I think both of us would enjoy it.”

She could smell his cologne, something earthy and woodsy, and beneath that the musk that was his alone. It wound around her in the semidark, threatening to break her resolve.

“Oh?” she asked, arching a brow and trying to seem as casual as he always did. “Maybe you’d rather bite me, then, so you could have the flying cat.”

She knew she’d called his bluff when his eyes dropped from hers. Which was, unfortunately, an opportunity to notice his incredibly long, thick lashes. She’d bet he was the picture of innocence when he was asleep.

“I’ve got two marks already, though,” he said. “Three seems a bit like overkill.” When he looked at her again, his expression was more guarded than teasing. “Well, if you’re going to be anti-fun this evening, then I suppose we should get going. I’ve already wasted time having to come look for you. Didn’t I tell you to wait at the apartment for me?” His eyes raised just a bit, and he reached out to finger a lock of hair that had escaped from the loose bun she’d fashioned.

“This does not look like a wig or a hat. Are you trying to advertise your bloodline to every vampire in the area?”

“I haven’t had time to find anything yet. It’s less noticeable up, I think,” she said. Ariane knew she sounded testy, but at least half of it was from the way he was toying with the single loose strand of hair. Damien had graceful, strong, elegant hands. And they felt even better when he—

“It will be even less noticeable once I find you a baseball cap,” Damien said, tucking the strand behind her ear and then removing his hand.

Ariane gave him a dirty look and started for the door. The crowd had grown thicker, and she could feel the barest touch at the small of her back as Damien squired her through the room. It was another unexpected touch of chivalry, and it made her wonder if Elena was right about his past.

Once they were out of the crush of people and noise, the hand vanished, but Ariane could still feel the warmth where it had been. Funny how such a light touch could make her feel so much more than the embrace of the man she’d drunk from.

She turned her head to look at Damien, impeccably put together as always in a crisp pair of khakis and a fitted black T-shirt. His hair was spiked up in the front. It looked meticulously done. He was beautifully, annoyingly perfect.

“I did wait for you,” she said, now that it was quiet enough to adequately defend herself. “You took forever, and I was hungry. Elena said she would tell you where I was. Wasn’t she up there?”

She didn’t tell him how worried she’d been that he simply wouldn’t show. Or what Elena had said she would do to him if he bailed on them.

Damien slid a disgruntled look at her as they walked, passing the waterfall sculpture. She wasn’t sure where they were going, but her assumption was the parking lot, so she allowed herself to be led in that general direction.

“Yes, she was there. May I ask why?”

“She wanted to see me off.” And make sure I had a few new blades and a functioning cell phone, Ariane nearly added, but decided that Damien didn’t need to know everything she would be bringing with her. She still wasn’t sure quite how far she could trust him, and having a spring-loaded knife strapped to her forearm would be excellent insurance if things went bad. The thin straps of tonight’s sundress wouldn’t have hidden that particular toy, but she was anxious to try it out.

“She’s got an overabundance of unhealthy curiosity, that one,” Damien grumbled. “Lucky we’re heading out now. She was probably still trying to figure out a way to profit from you.”

The casual insult put Ariane’s back up. “Don’t say that. She’s responsible, and she cares about me. That’s more than I can say for most vampires I’ve met, so you can keep your opinions about Elena to yourself.”

Damien looked mildly surprised. “Sensitive, are we? How sad, kitten. You’re going to make me think you’ve never had any friends.”

“I haven’t. Just Sam. And now Elena. That’s… that’s it.” She felt herself blushing and looked straight ahead, not wanting to see the mockery on Damien’s face. She really needed to learn to watch her words more carefully. At home, honesty was valued, expected. Here, nothing was what it seemed.

She waited for the cutting reply, but Damien’s words, spoken softly, surprised her.

“Well. If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t had many either. It isn’t everything, you know. The friend thing.”

She turned her head to look at him, waiting for the punch line… but none came. Instead Damien looked at the ground, seeming deep in thought before straightening up and changing the subject completely.