In Ari’s opinion, Claris was the stunner, and it showed in Brando’s wide grin when he caught sight of her. Five feet eight, three inches taller than Ari, with long legs and a willowy body, Claris was elegant in silvery-blue silk. Even Hernando came out of hiding long enough to stare at her with approving cornflower eyes.
“If I had known we might have to fight off the competition, I’d have worn something dark. Hides the blood better,” Steffan quipped. That might have been an odd comment from anyone else, but Ari’s date for the night was the leader of the local werewolves. Not that he looked like a rough and tough guy. Steffan was a cool, self-confident redhead with an infectious personality. Ari had known him for almost seven years, as he was a member of the Magic Council. They hadn’t dated until six months ago, and the relationship hadn’t made much progress beyond a good friendship.
“You won’t have to exert yourselves or dirty your pretty clothes,” Ari teased, grinning at Steffan and trying to get in the spirit of things. “Anyone causes trouble, I’ll give them the evil eye.” She winked at him and waggled a playful finger.
“That’s enough, you two. There will be no fighting or evil-eyeing of any kind,” Claris said with mock severity. “And no joking about blood. This is a social evening.”
Although she'd made light of it, Ari wondered, not for the first time, if Claris was ever uncomfortable hanging out with three Otherworlders. Her friend was gentle and naive in many ways. The herb and healing shop she ran reflected her basic personality—restful, spiritual. Claris wasn’t a risk taker, but her loyalty was boundless, and she’d stand fast if ever needed. Good traits, Ari thought. They’d make her a great mom someday.
On that entertaining thought, she gave a quick glance toward Brando, wondering if he’d given the mom-potential any consideration. He’d been Claris’s honey about a year, but the relationship still seemed tenuous. A wizard by heritage and a scientist by choice, Brando was often absorbed in his work, leaving little time for romance. As if he sensed her scrutiny, Brando turned to look at her, his shock of brown hair fashionably tousled, his gaze twinkling as if they shared some secret amusement. Ari grinned at him. If she had to go to this thing, she couldn’t be in better company.
* * *
The auditorium of the Arts Center was packed. The annual Charity Auction always drew a large crowd, not only of bidders but those who came to see and be seen. It was one of the biggest community events of the year. For an exorbitant entrance price, each person earned the right to free appetizers and wine and the opportunity to bid on a lot of things he didn’t need. Ari ran a cynical eye over the merchandise. And, in her case, many items she couldn’t afford. Like the perfectly ordinary-looking granny vase with a starting bid of $3,000. Of course, she could just ogle at all the rich and famous of Riverdale. It was expected. Looking around at the crowd, Ari estimated there were more oglers than bidders, but the auction always met its goal.
The two couples dutifully filed past the tables and viewed the choices in the silent auction. Brando kept up a running commentary on the city officials and wealthy patrons he recognized. Steffan placed a bid on a case of wine but was immediately out-bid by the couple behind them in line. He grinned at Ari, shrugged, and they moved on.
Ari paused when she spied a champagne dinner for two from Club Dintero. She wouldn’t be bidding on that. Claris’s attempt to hurry them past, to skip that particular auction item, brought a frown to Ari’s face. Like she wouldn’t notice. Apparently, Claris wasn’t convinced the past was in the past.
Ari’s frown deepened. She knew she had been a little touchy on the subject of Andreas and his club. Unbidden, a series of scenes flashed through her head: strong arms holding a grief-stricken young witch; a dark figure singing on stage, the crowd captivated; the same sexy figure sipping Chianti; a forbidden kiss. Ari determinedly brushed aside such highly selective memories. Those were only the good things—and there were some not so good. She flashed a reassuring smile at Claris and turned her attention to the next item, a spa package.
As if Ari’s traitorous thoughts had conjured it, a surge of Otherworld power touched her. Vampire. And not just any vampire. Sensation raced across her skin, her witch magic singing in recognition as the air shimmered with his dark, slightly wicked energy. She whipped her head around, focused on the front entry, and there he was.
Andreas’s dark eyes captured hers from across the room. Her breath caught, and like always, that compelling swirl of power wrapped itself around her, beguiling, irresistible. She barely registered the presence of the other vampires with him. Seconds, perhaps hours or years, passed with her caught in his gaze. As suddenly as it came, the magic withdrew, leaving a void. Andreas turned away and said something to the woman at his side. His companion laid a possessive hand on his arm.
Shaken, Ari took a shallow breath. After eight months she’d thought her reaction to him would be diminished. She’d be the last one to deny Andreas De Luca was heartbreakingly attractive, despite being one of the undead. That still didn’t explain his almost paralyzing effect on her. Or her recent ho-hum attitude toward other men.
Ari’s companions turned to see what had drawn her attention. Upon catching sight of the new arrivals, Claris’s gaze darted to her friend’s face. Claris knew every detail of the shattered relationship, including the violent death that brought it to an abrupt end. Claris’s face registered instant dismay, and for some reason Ari found that irritating.
“Isn’t that Andreas? And Prince Daron?” Steffan asked, seemingly oblivious to the tension in their group. He’d met Andreas when they’d worked together on a case last fall. Steffan hadn’t known much about the stormy relationship between Ari and Andreas, and she’d never told him how badly things ended.
Ari pulled a smile from somewhere and nodded. “Yes. Everyone seems to be here tonight.” She made an effort to keep it casual and was relieved how steady her voice sounded. Nothing like how she felt. The butterflies in her stomach were beating against the walls.
“Who are the women?” Steffan’s open face was still unaware.
Up to that moment, Ari had ignored the female vamps. She’d been too busy noticing how Andreas’s Italian good looks were enhanced by his black Armani evening attire. A tempting package. She pulled her focus to the companions. “That’s Carmella with Prince Daron, but I’ve never seen the other vampiress.” Ari didn’t like her looks. Plunging neckline, skin-tight red silk. Even for a vampire, her dress was far too slinky and seductive for a charity event.
Ari could have explained that Carmella and Andreas were two of the top lieutenants in the vampire leader’s court, but she’d been sworn to secrecy. She didn’t want to find out what happened to people who broke their oath with the powerful vampire prince.
Ari had never seen Carmella and Prince Daron together in public. Was Carmella on duty? Or was she dating Prince Daron now? In Ari’s book, he was far too old for comfort, somewhere between 500 and 1000 years, and scary in the extreme. She couldn’t imagine having a date with him.
Her focus drifted back to Andreas. He was another matter, in spite of his two centuries’ head start on her. Despite their many differences, at one point Ari had thought they might…well, it didn’t happen.
She became aware that Claris and Brando were watching her.
“She’s probably a bodyguard,” Brando offered, obviously referring to Ms. Slinky hanging on Andreas’s arm. “Doesn’t Prince Daron have his own secret service? Hey, look there’s the Mayor,” he said. He pointed in the opposite direction. His effort was effective, if not subtle, in changing the subject.
Bless him, Ari thought. She couldn’t wait to get out of the building. She had avoided Andreas for months and still wasn’t ready to meet him. When Claris declared she’d had enough of the auction and suggested they go somewhere to eat, Ari eagerly agreed.
As soon as they were away from the Arts Center, Ari relaxed. She told herself she was glad for the encounter. It was bound to happen, and now it was behind her. She concentrated on the attractive man at her side, and the four friends passed the evening in easy camaraderie at a local restaurant, assisted by the French cuisine and an excellent vintage wine.
* * *
Ari dreamed of Andreas that night.
The dream setting was her apartment. She sensed his presence immediately, the magical power that always surrounded him, and smelled the exotic cologne he used. Strange, how she still recognized those things. A thick, silvery mist hovered in the room, highlighted by moonlight from the window. As the mist parted, she saw him sitting there, dressed in total black. Armani, of course. He wore nothing else. Andreas lounged in her red chair; a slow, lazy smile crossed his face. His unreadable eyes met hers, one eyebrow cocked, as if he waited for something.
When Ari woke, he wasn’t there. It was just a dream, and she stifled a shiver.
It was all too real. The images, past and present, blended in her head. Before the auction, her last sight of Andreas had been a violent scene. In the heat of battle, they had clashed over the right to kill an enemy she-wolf, an assassin sent against them by Sebastian, vampire prince of Toronto, Canada. Andreas had pre-empted the kill, and his primitive reaction, with fangs extended, was a memory Ari wasn’t likely to forget. But she wasn’t kidding herself. It wasn’t the killing that really spooked her into ending their relationship. It was the magic. Earlier that night, during a moment of crisis, her magic had blended with his to rouse him from his vampiric sleep cycle—and he’d seen the images of impending danger inside Ari’s mind.
She was afraid of that magical link.
Ari stared at her empty red chair. She figured tonight’s dream had been triggered by seeing him at the auction, but it wasn’t the first dream. In spite of her best efforts to block them, there had been four dreams, almost identical, two within the last month.
Ari got out of bed and crossed to her cedar trunk. As a general rule, she tried not to call on her witch magic for everyday living. She worked closely with the human community, and magic made humans nervous. These dreams were a different matter. She had warded the windows after the first dream, and that helped for a while, but now the visions were coming more often. Was this some mind thing Andreas was doing? If he wanted to talk, why didn’t he use the damn phone?