“I don’t like this.”

Repeating that opinion wasn’t going to change the circumstances, and as much as Dison reiterated the four words of his instinctual misgivings, he knew they had to go forward and meet this Reginald bloke.

It was the next evening, and he and Rebekah were shuffling along with the crowd entering the museum for the gala. So far, not one face was familiar, and yet, the more they advanced on the long, wide steps up, the less secure he felt.

“After this, we can relax. I promise.” She looped her arm in his and lifted the hem of her dress with her left hand.

No one could possibly know she had a dagger strapped to her leg with expensive lace stockings, and that he had a Centurias key around his neck. Good thing security didn’t appear to be putting the guests through metal detection or else they’d have to forgo this plan. Which he wouldn’t have minded a bit. Money be damned.

“Once we get in there,” she said, “we’ll need to separate.”

“Separate?” He jerked his gaze to her profile.

“It’s better that way.”

“I will do no such thing,” he murmured darkly as they ascended.

“You have to, just this once. If he knows you’re with me, he might ask questions.”

“Questions you don’t have to answer. Tell him I’m your bodyguard.”

She gave him a lilting smile. “You’re much too good-looking not to be anything but my lover. Besides, I’ve never had a bodyguard before.”

“Never? Well, you do now. He’ll understand.”

They came to the landing where a woman with a clipboard smiled.

“Good evening,” Rebekah greeted with all the aplomb of a wealthy socialite out in the city. “We’re guests of Mr. Reginald’s. Rebekah Howard.”

The woman with gray hair and a sparkling dark purple gown didn’t even glance at the list, just smiled and gestured they go ahead. “Ah yes, of course. Enjoy your evening.”

A few feet past her and he muttered, “That was too easy.”

“He’s a very generous philanthropist and they let him invite whoever he wants without question. We didn’t even have to provide identification. Now,” she said as they were offered champagne from a server, “have a drink and let’s try to blend in as though we’re so rich we’re boring and aloof.”

He took the flute, wondering where he could find something stronger to imbibe. That feeling tickling the back of his neck wouldn’t go away. More than one pair of eyes did double-takes at Rebekah while they walked around.

“Care to dance?” he asked, feeling possessive, unnerved, and a tinge paranoid at all the men gawking at his woman.

She smiled up at him. “You hate dancing.”

He had the urge to flash his teeth and sneer at the men who shamelessly undressed her with their gazes, but he had to concede she was simply impossible to ignore. He hauled her in and kissed her thoroughly. There. “Not with you.”

“Marking your territory, are you?”

Of course she saw right through that. “They have to know you’re mine.”

“Oh, Dison. All they have to do is look at me looking at you to know that.”

By the gods, she slayed him with those eyes, with those breathless words of devotion. A massive percentage of his sanity and happiness were contingent on her gazing at him like this. While they slow danced and smiled into each other’s eyes, the world vanished, their problems folded, feeding off one another’s sensas of true love and visceral lust. It soothed his fear like a salve.

A resounding clapping broke out around them. Rebekah turned her attention to the commotion.

“He’s here,” she whispered.

Dison suppressed a groan and reluctantly let her pull of out of his embrace. He didn’t even know what the man looked like and couldn’t see through the crowd, despite his height. Women whispered and men raised their glasses, but Dison couldn’t spot the man of the hour.

She guided him away from the dance floor. “Stand over here. It might take a while before I’m able to speak to him without a dozen other women around. He fancies himself a player.”

Dison frowned at this remark. “Oh, really? So he’ll flirt with you, and I’ll have to stand here and take it?”

“Yes,” she said without pause. “And he’s also a little…handsy, so if he smacks my bum or something, do keep from going ape in front of all these humans.”

Her jest only revived his worry. “He’d better not lay a finger on you, Rebekah. I don’t care if he gives us a billion dollars—”

She grasped his face and brought it closer. “I love you. I’m doing this for us. Please try to keep your alpha reactions in check. Think of the money. Not me. The money.” She kissed him, and his ire melted as she opened her mouth and traced her tongue inside, arching her body into him. His arms locked around her tight; he didn’t want to let go. The kiss deepened and transformed, growing hungry and desperate. Just as he was about to push her through a swinging door marked “Staff Only” she pulled from his arms with a smile, and rejoined the party.

He instinctively reached out to bring her back, but missed.

Damn. The sooner she talked to this pervert the sooner they could get their cash and leave. Leaning on the pillar, he tucked his hands in his pockets, forcing himself not to follow and hover. The choices in front of him were rotten; either he didn’t watch and wouldn’t have to witness Reginald flirt and caress his beloved, or he did watch…and would have to witness Reginald flirt and caress her, but would know exactly where she was.

He settled for the latter. Perhaps once Reginald caught another vampire’s scent, he’d be a gentleman and respect that was clearly, irrefutably taken, by right, by blood, by him. Being a mated vampire was exhausting. Worth dying for, but exhausting.

Some time later, to his relief, he spotted Rebekah, her back to him. But damn it, he couldn’t see who she was talking to. Then a hand, a small one, came around her waist and patted her lower back.

Dison’s brows drew together.

When he saw her right hand being held and her hips swaying side to side, he realized she had started dancing with someone. And when she turned, smiling down at her companion, Dison’s jaw dropped.

Was that Reginald?

Dressed in a tuxedo with red, shiny shoes, spiky black hair, and a grin bigger than his own face, had to be the object of their mission.

All five feet of him. Rebekah wasn’t tall; he was just that short. In fact, he was in direct eyeline of her bosom, which he frequently kept glancing at when Rebekah spoke. That was the notorious ladies’ man? Dison chuckled, shaking his head. He’d pictured someone else entirely. He wasn’t just short, but skinny, not evoking the kind of man who had a penchant for weapons. How old could he be? Clearly his maturation age had been in his early twenties—

“Ahem.”

Dison’s attention was called to his right, where a woman in a gold, shimmering gown smiled at him, and cocked her head. “All alone?”

An American. And a vampiress. He could feel her sensa weaving around him, but didn’t accept the energy. Obviously she hadn’t seen him with Rebekah earlier. “No.”

“Oh. Pity.” She didn’t take that as a cue to leave, just sipped her champagne and stared at his profile. She came closer and stood next to him. “Where is she?”

Feeling as though he shouldn’t be rude, he straightened away from the pillar and gave a single nod. “In the silver gray dress. Dancing with Short Pants.”

The woman laughed. “Reginald. Then I don’t blame you for keeping surveillance on her. He’s Mr. Steal Your Girl.”

“So I heard. I’m not that worried.”

“No? Mock him all you want, but he’s done it before.”

He raised a brow and glanced at her, then took a sip of whiskey. “Really?”

“I mean what he lacks in height he makes up for in money and charm. Not to mention the size of his dick.”

Dison choked on the liquor, to the American’s amusement. “What?”

“Oh, yes, it’s huge. My friend hooked up with him once. Apparently, he’s a master in bed. Hence his reputation. I suppose men can only get better when they live long enough, or try enough. Too bad we don’t have a god of sex, right?”

He huffed. “We have a god for everything else. Including seduction. Evidently, they weren’t worried about our abilities in bed after that point.”

“Can you imagine if that was a gift too? The whole world would be fucked.”

He chuckled.

She held out her hand. “Linda.”

He turned and shook her hand, wary not to become too familiar with her. “Stephen.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m guessing your avowed forced you to come? You certainly look like you’d rather attend a funeral than be here.”

Trying to avoid his own funeral. “You’re not far off the mark.”

“What’s your vocation? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He did mind, but couldn’t bring himself to be impolite. “Art,” he said. It wasn’t a flat out lie, though it could easily be revealed as one if she asked him anything about it.

“Lovely. I could use a new piece in my dining room, if you’re available to consult?”

Was she still flirting with him? “Sorry, but I’m booked.” Indefinitely. And he didn’t know about art, except what Rebekah told him, so he should cut this conversation off now.

“Bringing any pieces to the Centurias?”

Naturally she would assume he had the money and status to go when attending a charity like this. “I might,” he lied.

A second later, her business card was handed over. “I’d be very interested in any ornate jewelry if you have it.”

He hesitated, then accepted the card and looked down. The only two things on the eggshell-white stationery was her name and phone number. “Sure.” He looked up, but the woman had already walked away.

Just then, Reginald and Rebekah broke through the crowd, and he dipped her in a grand move, right in front of Dison.

He reluctantly smiled down at her upside-down eyes. “Having fun?”

Reginald swung her upright with a grin. “One of the best dancers, isn’t she?”

Dison possessively took hold of her hand and brought her next to him. Enough of this, he told her with his eyes.

A little breathless, she turned to Reginald with a sigh. “I’m afraid we must be going. Where should we meet you?”

“Ten minutes, love. I’ll have my driver pull up the back with the stash.” He smoothed the lapels of his jacket, then smacked Dison’s arm.

Once he disappeared behind him through an exit door, Dison brought her knuckles up to his lips. “He’s lucky I don’t throw him through the window, love.”

“I could say the same about the woman you were speaking to.”

He met her eyes over her hand. “You noticed?”

“Her sensa was screaming from here. Did you take it in?” Instead of caustic, she appeared angsty knowing another woman flirted with him.

“Of course I didn’t. I was a pillar of frost.” He couldn’t contain the grin that emerged from seeing Rebekah the territorial one for once.

“Who was she?”

“Just some American with nosy questions. I told her my name was Stephen and that we were art dealers. She gave me her business card and said she was interested in ornate jewelry.”

“Really? Well, I’m not selling her anything in my possession.”

Chuckling, he leaned down to kiss her fine lips, to soften that unhappy flat line they were making. “Am I your possession?”

She melted into him. “The body cannot live without the heart, can it?”

A masculine sound of surrender came from this throat as he claimed her mouth.

She arched into him and stood on the tips of her toes, opening her mouth and twining her tongue in deep, fingers clutching the back of his head. Someone behind them cleared their throat and Dison broke away, had forgotten where they were, a normal reaction to his woman’s artless kiss.

“Let’s get the money. I want to run away with you again.”

She smiled as he took her hand and they went out the exit door.

Still buzzed from their kiss and anxious for the money that would secure their immediate future, Dison approached the waiting limousine in the alley and knocked on the window. It came down with a smiling Reginald inside.

He lifted a glass of liquor. “Come in! I have better stock in here than they do in there.”

Dison inhaled to stifle his impatience.

Rebekah squeezed his hand and interceded before he could spoil the deal. “We have a plane to catch.”

The philanthropist rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He snapped his fingers. The driver emerged and went around to the car’s rear. He pulled out a suitcase, shut the boot, set it on top, and flicked open the locks. Without finesse, he turned the suitcase around to reveal neat stacks of fresh money.

“American dollars?” Dison raised a brow then glanced at Rebekah.

“That’s all he has in that amount. I didn’t want to wait for him to go to the bank tomorrow to exchange it.”

True. Not that American currency was all that inconvenient, since it was probably where they would run to. “Good point.”

Reginald climbed out of the car. “Well?”

Rebekah pulled up the hem of her dress and produced the dagger. Whether the man’s eyes lit up at the sight of her enticing, naked legs or the dagger, Dison couldn’t be sure. It was probably both. She unwrapped the cloth and presented in both hands like a delicate offering.

“Remarkable,” Reginald whispered. He picked it up with tenderness. “By the gods, this is it.”

The wicked, dark gleam in his eyes had Dison reaching to pull Rebekah back to his side with one hand, while the driver snapped the briefcase closed.

“Then we’re done here,” Dison said, to signal the end of their rendezvous. The sooner he got Rebekah away from this creep, the better.

Reginald continued to stare at the weapon. “Thank you.”

Dison tugged her away.

She turned with him to head down the alley. “Be careful with it, Reginald. You know about its curse!”

“Goodbye! Stay safe, love!” he called behind her.

They hurried to the hotel as fast as they could in their fine clothes. Dison couldn’t believe they had that much money over one transaction, but was hopeful they wouldn’t have to do it again.

“It’s done,” Rebekah said triumphantly when they entered the hotel lobby. “Where to now?”

“I think fate has already told us America is where we should be.” He held up the case.

Her grin grew, lighting up her already beautiful face. “I agree.”

Rushing through the lobby, they halted when woman’s voice stopped them.

“Oh! Mr. Hughes!” said the front desk clerk, calling his fake surname. She waved him over.

A wariness hit Dison like a shove to his back as they walked to the desk clerk. “Yes?”

“A gentleman was here asking for you. A group of them actually,” she relayed. “I just thought you should know. He seemed anxious to find you.”

His gut twisted with searing trepidation. He and Rebekah exchanged glances.

“Did he leave a name?” his pürist asked, the worry in the tone barely noticeable.

The oblivious desk clerk shook her head. “No, but he had an accent. Sounded Russian or—”

“Croatian?” Dison interjected.

“Yes.” She moved her head to look over his shoulder. “In fact, there he is, right there. Behind you.”