For the next seven days, Rebekah and Dison felt they were the only two beings on earth.

The night they arrived at the country cottage owned by Katherine and Harold, they performed the avowal ritual, respectfully asking the gods to bond them forever. They were granted the request, securing a connection to each other in this life and the afterlife. Dison’s remnant was now interwoven in her aura permanently, and every male vampire within reach would know she was claimed, aka married. She was his pürist, then, now, and eternally.

They wouldn’t have to catch her scent to know it, however. She knew it was evident on her from head to toe, that she was in love, and belonged to no other.

The week was pure bliss with her handsome pürist, making love, feeding from his vein, taking midnight walks, talking, laughing, listening to one another’s stories. Neither of them broached the topics hovering just beyond their perfect bubble. The fact Dison had forsaken an entire life back in London, or the dangers they were in, or how they would make a life together with Ivan Miocic’s wrath trailing them everywhere they went.

She didn’t want to discuss those things, and Dison was in the same frame of mind, though at times she sensed his worry, conflict, and uncertainty. A condition of being avowed to one another was the extra sensitivity to her lover’s emotions. It was weird the first few days, but once she learned to separate herself from them, and connect to his feelings when she wanted, it became more manageable.

Only when they made love did she fully immerse in him, feeding off his passion and love for her, addicted to its pure, unadulterated fulfilment. They were in a constant state of nudity, as getting dressed seemed to just be a nuisance for the next time they were intimate. In the shower, in the woods, in the lake, even on the roof. She had known once seven days had passed, their insatiable sexual needs would balance out, and their time in the country would have to come to an end.

They couldn’t hide forever, and as much as she’d reveled in the isolation, she missed city life, and was eager to get on with their plan to settle somewhere. She bought a map and circled a few potential places where they could blend in easily—like New York City or Los Angeles—Great Britain was just not big enough to escape the reaches of someone like Miocic. America was the ideal alternative for now.

And she tried very hard not to think about the fact her pürist was on a hit list.

She feared speaking about it out loud would jinx their good fortune so far, having escaped the clutches of the thugs at the inn, and receiving a key to the Centurias from a Vesser himself. Now that she was avowed to him, her greatest fear was being ripped from him, for something that wasn’t his fault.

They packed their bags and locked up the cottage, and the tension that hadn’t been there before suddenly made its presence known the second they drove away.

Rebekah glanced back, locking the memories in her mind, and hoping it wasn’t their last and only week of peace. “What now?”

“We’ll take a private plane from London to Switzerland and avoid Heathrow,” Dison said once they turned on the main road. “I know a pilot who can arrange a flight on short notice.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Enough to take the chance. Plus, he’s human, and has no connections to the underworld that I know of. All I have to do is give him those gold pieces, they’ll be more than enough to satisfy him. We’ll spend the day in Geneva, get the rest of my money, and make our next move.”

She nodded with nervousness. Would it work out that smoothly? Or were they kidding themselves?

“Rebekah.”

She looked at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“How can you ask that? You know what’s wrong. Your life is on a contract! We don’t know how far Miocic will go to end it. He probably has people all over London searching for you. I don’t want to go anywhere near that city.”

He squeezed her hand. “We don’t have a choice—”

“I know,” she exclaimed, hating the feeling of helplessness.

“Try to think about what we do have, instead of the what-ifs.” He transferred his hand to the back of her neck, caressing it. “We have each other. We have money. We have people who will help us if needed. We have the Centurias key. Most importantly, we have money,” he joked, attempting to make her smile.

Despite her trepidation, her mouth did move at his quip, but it reminded her his slight obsession with money could come hinder them at some point. While she was grateful he had hundreds of thousands in the bank—he showed her a statement he’d printed out—she wondered if he’d be able to let go of his previous life completely.

What if he couldn’t earn as much money? How would he deal with living out of a suitcase? She reminded herself to be patient and guide him, show him money could only bring a fractional measured amount of happiness. There were other things in life that could bring so much more joy.

Over the years, money had been an unpredictable variable. She’d been broke, she’d been rich, and most of the time she was somewhere in between, but she never let it decide her fate or make stupid decisions in order to obtain it. In case of emergency, she had contingencies in place.

They drove mostly in silence for the rest of the drive, making it to London in the middle of the night. Dison parked the car and made a phone call to his friend the pilot. As he’d told her, the arrangements were made easily and swiftly, the plane and pilots waiting for them when they arrived at the private airport.

“Enchanté, mademoiselle,” greeted the pilot as she and Dison approached the pair. A short man with bright blue eyes, he picked up her hand and kissed it soundly. “Mon dieu, Dison. You are a lucky man, no? She is absolutely gorgeous! No wonder you want to whisk her away in secret. Let me guess! She is a former girlfriend of a disgusting Russian diplomat, and you fell in love, and now you must rush off to Switzerland to be together!”

Rebekah softly laughed at the pilot’s charm. “How did you know?” she teased.

He grinned, snapping his heels together. “I’ll have you there in no time. Up, up you go!”

Dison smiled and shook his head as he gestured for her to go first up the flight of stairs. In no time at all, they were in the air, and she was able to breathe normally. Once the lights of London were below them, she settled back in her luxury chair, smiling at Dison, who was sitting across from her.

“Feel better now?” he asked, returning her smile.

“Yes.” She looked down at the city. “You’ll miss it. You know you will.”

“London? It’s just a place, Rebekah. You’re my home.”

She met his eyes, then leaned over and kissed him. “Will you want to come back?”

“Perhaps. Only when I’m absolutely sure it’s safe. I’m looking forward to a new city, with you. Wherever that may be.” He accepted the vodka the attendant brought to him. “Have you thought about where we should make a temporary home?”

“I get to choose? It is strictly up to me?”

He raised his glass before taking a sip. “It is. Surprise me. Anywhere in the world.”

“And you’ll be happy with what I choose? You don’t want any say in the matter?”

“Do you want me to?”

“No,” she said prettily.

He chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”

The attendant brought her a glass of white wine, then disappeared behind the service curtain.

“Dison, can we have a real discussion about…M?” she asked, paranoid to even say his full name out loud.

“A real discussion?” He set his glass down.

“I know little about him. About your connection to him. I want to know more, as much as I can.”

“I assumed you knew. After all, you were the one who knew I had been placed on a hit list.”

She shrugged and took a drink of wine. “That was all I knew. I have several secret identities on online forums, that’s how I get most of my information about underworld gossip. It helps me track down stolen art. Especially when someone is trying to find a buyer.”

“Really?” His brows raised. “How do they not figure out it’s you if every time a stolen piece of art is recovered from you after being on these forums?”

“I don’t try to recover every piece. Only the ones I think are worth it. I also hire several people as go-betweens so I’m the very last person connected to the recovery. The only ones who really know my identity are my clients, so I can collect my fee.”

“Which is?”

“Ten percent of the value.”

She’d surprised him by the shock on his face. “Ten? That’s incredible. I know you’ve recovered paintings in the millions.”

She could practically see the dollar signs popping up above his head. Time to bring him back down to earth. “Don’t be too impressed. Do you know how hard it is to track down stolen artwork? Sometimes it can take months, years. And I spend a lot of the money I earn getting to the next piece. I also donate a lot of money to charity. I only take what I need.”

His expression changed to one of curiosity, and a little bewilderment. “Really?”

Art was how most of the wealthiest vampires maintained their affluence. Humans were and had always been obsessed with rare antiquities and art, and most of them had no idea the ones who ultimately sold and profited from the sale of Da Vinci or Dega’s precious works were vampires. One painting could go for hundreds of millions, enough to live beyond comfortably for a good stretch of time. But it was also extremely competitive, sometimes dangerous, to be a part of that world.

Hence, why she preferred to be in the background of things, and not the forefront.

“I don’t need much to live a comfortable life.” Did he? Could he be happy with living in an ordinary home with no luxury cars or expensive clothes? She didn’t know. How little they knew of each other, she realized. There were still many things they had to talk about. Which reminded her they’d veered off her initial topic.

“Tell me about your employer,” she prodded. “From a personal point of view. I know about his transport company and that he has two daughters, that his fated died twenty years ago. I know he’s a Croatian royal, and doesn’t concern himself with community business, only sends in his share of the required membership fee to the royal bank every year.”

Dison drew in a breath, casting his gaze to the side. “He’s intelligent. Decisive. Tough with competitors, even with his friends. Never trusts anyone implicitly, always believes someone must have an agenda, whether it is shown now or later. In the beginning of our working relationship, he made me prove myself time and again, in order to come aboard as a client. I made a few small investments for him that paid off, all legit. I would never cut him in on high risk information. I thought he would question my integrity, so his accounts with me were always clean and growing. He liked that.”

“So he liked you?”

“A few weeks ago I would’ve said yes. The past year I’ve been in his home or at his office more often than not. Of course that could be because he wouldn’t take no for an answer when he wanted to meet. Sometimes it was irritating, because I would clear my afternoon to meet with him, and it wouldn’t be about his financials whatsoever. He just wanted to talk or vent. I did enjoy those times though, and I still charged him by the hour. A couple years ago, he convinced me to drop my other clients and work only for him, which I was more than willing to do,” he added with a trace of sadness in his eyes.

It sounded as though Ivan Miocic actually liked Dison, which made the threat on him all the more bewildering. Why execute someone who’d been loyal and shown his worth? Why not give him a second chance or at least a chance to explain what happened at Jacoby’s?

“Maybe you should call him,” she said, thinking out loud. “Explain how Kristof brought on his own demise. It’s been two weeks since it happened. He might’ve settled down by now.”

“And make it easy for him to track where we are, where we’ve been, so he can find out where we’re going? No. He made it clear he doesn’t want to talk. He just wants me dead.” He finished off his vodka and tapped the button for the attendant.

“What about the other royals? Your ex-clients? Can you reach out to one of them?”

He considered her question, then sharply shook his head once. “No. I don’t want to cause any more conflict than I already have. Besides, I don’t know any royals that I could trust. There are one or two that might stand up for me, but there a lot more that wouldn’t. I’m just a pürblood who’s good with numbers. Nothing more.”

“You’re so much more, and you know it. What you’ve done for Marex, those people who were conned, proves it. Don’t ever say something like that again.”

He smiled at her as the attendant emerged to hand him a fresh glass of vodka. “I love you.”

With a sigh, she sat back in her seat, shaking her head. “And I you.” She had to find a way to keep him safe, to end this contract.

“I want to give you everything,” he murmured, gazing into her eyes, his own turning dark with promise. “More than all of me.”

With those words, her heart melted. She abandoned her seat and crawled into Dison’s lap, straddling him. He moaned as she raked her fingers in his hair and rolled her hips on him, arousing him, reveling in how his body trembled as she brushed her lips on his. “Everything, Dison? Those are a lot of prices to pay. I want very little.”

His mouth grazed down her chin and along her jawline, with his tongue leaving a wet trail as he moved toward her neck. “But you deserve more. A castle in the sky. Full of all the artwork and lovely, shiny things you’ve ever dreamed of. You deserve romance and adventure and jewels. Nights on the Nile. Dinners with queens. The best wine money can buy—”

“Shh. Right now, all I want is a kiss. By the gods, you turn me on—”

Coming back to her mouth with a raw sound, he found her lips and claimed them eagerly, drawing out her tongue and twining his in a slow, erotic pattern that made her pussy clench. His hand snaked up her top to cup a breast and toy with the nipple with the pad of his thumb until she shook, vibrating with desire.

“Does this plane have a bedroom?” she breathed.

“No, but it has a loo, and it’s big enough for both of us.”

She quickly climbed off him and tugged his hand.

Opening a narrow door where Dison pointed, Rebekah had never seen anything quite like this before. Nothing like the coffin-like closets on an ordinary plane; this compartment had a cushioned powder room bench, two sinks, and a toilet.

Before she could really take in the luxurious amenities, Dison lifted her in the sink, pushed her skirt back and her panties down. The second he was inside her, she let out the most shameless cry of relief, spreading her legs wider to feel the full impact of his hips meeting hers. With every deep thrust, he moaned, flicking his tongue on her lips. His teeth lengthened and she offered her neck, but he shook his head, and plunged deeper.

Mouth open, speechless, she clutched his shoulders and held on. He adjusted her, and rolled his hips in a new way, ensuring her clit was stimulated as he rocked inside her. The moment the orgasm hit, she buried her face in his chest, stunned by her own powerlessness to control the sounds of her ecstasy. Tears sprung to her eyes suddenly, unbidden and wanted, as she envisioned a future without her pürist. Without his touch and his love.

May the gods never force her to find out.