Carver’s estate outside of Versailles looms into view.

I’ve spent countless hours crammed up, first in a flight over the Atlantic and then with a winding drive through the French countryside. It’s everything I imagined it would be when I used to daydream about traveling. Most girls do, but with work and school and the cost of living in New Orleans, the thought that I’d actually see Europe any time soon was about as realistic as planning a trip to the moon. My knees are stiff and my legs would be full of pin pricks if I were still human. It’s one of those advantages of being a vampire. Of being Kresova. Tilting my head, I lean over toward Reina and smile.

“Are your legs killing you, bitch?”

She pushes a strand of long black-blue hair over her shoulder and leans in closer to Row. “I’m tired of traveling too and, okay, maybe my ass fell asleep a few lilac fields ago.” She scowls at me. “And if you say that your ass is fine, I will kick you in the box the minute I can feel my legs again.”

I laugh and roll down the window. Turning my nose toward the wind, I let the scents of the countryside sweep over me---the sweet tinge of the flowers, the crisp water of a brook babbling not too far from the road, and even the hints of fresh-grown garlic and bread, baked today, from the nearest village waft toward me. New Orleans is messy, a city of contradictions and energy, which is why I’ve always loved it. Versailles is quiet, restful, and I can understand why Carver has kept his estate here over the centuries. With the attack back home fresh on my mind and the shadow of Morana’s insanity and cruelty over all of us, who wouldn’t need respite?

The castle--because that’s what it effing is--comes into view over the crest of the next hill. The white brick is as pristine as the surrounding countryside and stretches out into a building that would easily take up a city block or two in a city as big as Philadelphia or Baltimore. As we drive up, there are at least four stories that I can count, leading to a roof with spiked turrets and huge, ornate dormers. I’m sure there’s an extensive basement. Dungeon? Probably not, but I wouldn’t be shocked if Carver’s retreat is snaked through with hidden passages as well. To the far left is a huge tower. It’s huge and fat and reminds me vaguely of the one from Tangled. It’s not the type of spindly, winding tower I’d expected from fairy tales but it’s definitely awe-inspiring and takes up half the horizon.

Reina chuckles. “Hey, Aura, you want to close your mouth there? With the window open and that slack jaw of yours, you’re going to end up swallowing bugs.”

I flip Reina off and turn my stare to Carver, who hasn’t said anything as he pulls the rented Audi up to the main entrance. It’s in no way shocking to see a cadre of servants slip from the expansive oak doors and bustle out to meet us. Of course, Carver has a castle and full-time staff and never mentioned them. What else is he hiding from me? A pang bites into my heart as sharply as any vamp’s fangs would have. Carver and I are drawn to each other. Destined. I’m serious when I say it feels like I was always searching for him, that a part of me felt him out there, especially from the moment I was turned. But fated harem or not, it doesn’t mean I know him and all the ins and outs of his four hundred plus years much at all. I intend to fix that.

You know, if his crazy bitch of an ex and the bloodiest queen out there doesn’t figure out I’m a Dria and all the treason I’m trying to pull off.

If everything goes well with finding my third and finding the other queens, then Carver and I will have forever to figure each other out. For right now, I’m trying to assimilate this new side to him with everything else I know. Lord of Pleasure, check. An assassin of Morana, regrettably so. One of the bravest warriors I’ve ever met, hell yeah. Now, apparently, lord of far more than just a manor.

“Ahem,” I fake-cough as Carver slides out of the parked car and crosses around to open my door. I give him a hard stare. “Seriously, you’re fucking loaded.”

“There’s a lot to be said for having half a millennium to invest carefully,” he says, his arctic eyes twinkling back at me. “It didn’t seem to be an important thing to share when we were rushing around to consult with Harlow or tangling with Lavinia.”

“Or,” Row added as he and Reina hopped out of the car after me. “With all the general ambushes and supernatural shit brewing in New Orleans.”

Reina eyes Row. “So, are all vampires completely loaded?”

Row laughs, a good-hearted chuckle. As he does so, Reina’s face brightens. If I still breathed normally, my breath would have caught in my throat. All the bonding they’ve done is shining through. Again, I wonder what the future could possibly hold for a human infatuated with a vampire. I wonder how safe any of this is for Reina, especially after Lavinia stole her. Eventually, she’ll grow old. Even though she makes jokes about me buying her knitting yarn, it has to be playing with her mind to be thrust in with immortals. I mean, fuck. It’s screwing with my brain and I am immortal. At least now I am. No matter what happens, I want Reina happy and safe, and I hope that Rowland can do that for her.

“What?” Reina demands, putting her hands on her hips. “That’s a very important question. Inquiring minds want to know. Are all vampires like secret venture capitalists? Maybe they all invested in diamonds back before the Plague?”

Row shakes his head. “Not all, no, but what I have back in my own home…well…you’ll have to wait and see.”

Reina pouts as she threads her arm through his. “You say that because you love torturing me.”

“That’s just part of the fun,” Row says. He winks at me and Carver. “Now, we’re off to get settled.”

“Say that more like a euphemism,” Carver adds, feigning exasperation.

Row shrugs. “Don’t come looking for us right away.”

I roll my eyes but still click my tongue a bit at Reina. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Bitch, our apartment has the thinnest walls. There are so many things you have done that I’d love to sign up for!” With that they hurry off, following a few servants to the far corner of the west wing of the estate.

Seriously, it’s kind of badass that Carver has a palace with literal wings. It shouldn’t matter, and I’d be drawn to him, love him no matter what. He delivered me from the darkness, protected me from Morana when I was first presented to her, and kept me from hurting anyone when I turned. That said, it’s still some weird mix of sticker shock and disbelief to see the castle before me. Somewhere in the last bit, my life became both a terrifying horror movie but also filled with wondrous possibilities I never could have imagined.

I slide my hand into his. “It’s beautiful. I wish I’d known.”

Carver leans down and kisses my soft, blonde hair. “There’s a lot about me to share, and I promise to do all of that with you. For right now, ma belle, this is my home so you should consider yourself the lady of the manor. Anything you want, you only need to ask.”

One of my lips curves upward as if under its own volition. Even though servants scurry around us and help prod us toward the east wing, I feel as if we’re the only two souls around. “Well, I was wondering what the sleeping arrangements were going to be.”

Carver waits for me to ascend the stairs and then through the large oak doors in front of us. Perfect gentleman, as always. Lucian is harder to read. When I do see him, he’s self-contained. Carver gives, wants to guide me. It doesn’t make either of them less appealing to me, less a part of my very souls. It’s just so different. I can’t imagine what the third is like or where he is.

I have to remind myself not to gape at everything I see, at the gorgeous gold leaf on all the furniture, the thick velvet curtains than hang from windows close to fifteen feet high, or at the vivid portraits and oil paintings arranged throughout the entry hall. It’s like entering a living museum where everything is an exquisite work of art. I’m not worthy.

“Holy fuck.”

Those arctic eyes are brimming with mirth now. “So, I take it you like my humble abode.”

“Now you’re just playing with me, Carver.” Humble my ass. How about humble for Marie Antoinette.

He leans close so that his velvety voice is low and hushed in my ear. It sends passion and need flaring straight to my cunt. “I plan to, chérie, but for tonight, it’s your choice. I’ve set aside a room for you.”

“One of the roughly two hundred available.”

“Yes, but I wasn’t sure if you needed to rest tonight, to have some space.”

“From you?”

“We were in transit for over a day, all told. It’s been a rough time.”

“It’s always a rough time.”

“Well, yes,” Carver says as he strokes my hair back from my face. “I have a room that you’re more than welcome to sneak into, but I still felt that giving you as many options as possible was the best idea.”

I grin. “I think that’s the biggest change in being a Dria, everything I’m trying to adjust to. It’s all about choices.”

Carver’s expression goes wary. “I had not intended to invite Lucian in with us.”

“Well, he’s not here.”

“Walk-abouts and brooding. I hope you like that part of his personality---if you can call it that, ma belle.”

My grip is firm over his hand. “Don’t. It’s all hard, and we all have to learn to live with this. Humans…okay most of them don’t do anything like a harem. Add on that you and Lucian agree on exactly nothing, and this is complicated for all of us.”

Carver nods. “I know. I shouldn’t have poked there. Mainly, for the centennial and all the preparations. You’ll need a place to dress and get ready for Morana’s inspections.”

I snort as we turn a corner and pass by an actual suit of armor. Of course, he has those too. “Don’t remind me. First, I don’t trust that psychotic bitch as far as a human could throw her.”

Carver frowns. “That doesn’t make sense. She’d rip off the head of any human who got anywhere near her.”

“It’s an expression.” I refrain just barely from rolling my eyes. That’s the one thing I can’t quite get about all the vampires around me. Morana, Charles, Carver…they all tend to mangle English expressions. Then again, give me a couple hundred years and ask me to pick up German or Japanese or a completely different language and see how well I do. I took two semesters of Spanish in college to get through core requirements and, well, I wasn’t exactly about to go to Mexico and set up a life by the gulf any time soon. “Anyway, my point is that, second, she’s scary as fuck but also has the weirdest taste. That dress was an Anne Boleyn costume. It wasn’t for a real party.”

“She loves the customs of an earlier time. For such a big unveiling to other races and factions, she’ll be sure to handle your costume choices personally.”

“Meaning?”

“There will be a truck or two of dresses arriving for you to choose from. Morana wants someone she’s eyeing for her court to be a perfect representative of her power.”

I blanch. “You mean a perfect dress up doll. Do I look like blood-sucking Barbie to you?”

“You’re blonde.” Carver wipes his hand over his mouth, a smile flirting behind his fingers.

We stop at a dead end and the servants slip away from us. Two doors face each other. Carver opens the one right behind him and I catch a glimpse of a thick, Persian rug and the hint of a four-poster bed carved from Mahogany or another reddish wood. The heat is now rioting through me, my sex wet and ready for him. I know exactly how we can spend the afternoon.

Leaning up, I kiss him. “So, if that’s your room…”

“Your room is behind you. I didn’t want you out of my sight and you needed something large enough. I know from experience those damn dresses take up a lot of space.”

My tongue teases his again, darting in between his parted lips and tasting him. There’s a hint of copper on his breath from where he’s last fed but also the rich Scotch he drank on the plane and something else, something earthy and powerful that’s purely him.

“But we can celebrate me coming home on your bed first.”

He grinds against me, the rigid outline of his cock hard against my hips. “Ma belle, I thought you’d never ask.”

“Oh, Carver, I wasn’t asking. I was definitely demanding.”

“Anything for my true queen.”

He’s lifting me slightly over the threshold, and the wedding symbolism isn’t lost on me at all, when the cell in his pocket rings. “Merde,” he says and yanks the phone out. The rest of the conversation devolves into a foreign language I can’t even hope to guess at. Carver takes a moment and covers the receiver. Giving me an apologetic shrug, he whispers. “I have to take this, ma belle.”

Forcing myself to smile, I pull away from his grip and hurry to my room. “I know. Isn’t that part of subterfuge and saving the world or, well, at least the Kresova. Duty calls and all that.”

His eyes seem even bluer than usual and his nostrils flare. “I will make this up to you, ma belle.”

“I’m counting on it.”

* * *

“I hate that grin.”

It’s not fair to pout, but most of the evening so far has been spent with me, my anxiety over whatever it is Morana expects of me, and no one to offload on. Lucian’s not here. Reina and Row were very busy---and very vocal---for several hours, and Carver’s call sent him running off on an errand for far too long. I’m happy for my bestie, really I am, but it’s hard to be running high on so many emotions. Plus, I’m getting hungry. It’s not time yet to feed, but it would have been nice to get a few sips from Carver, to satiate both my body and my raging libido in one. I’ll have to settle for tomorrow night, I hope. Still, does Reina have to keep smiling like the cat who ate the canary?

“Why?” Reina asks as she leans back in the bubbles of the jacuzzi that might as well be a pool.

Carver’s palace might be old school, literally from the time before Marie Antoinette was beheaded and all that jazz, but he’s definitely worked to have modern accommodations too. There’s a full spa on the premises. He staffs it with masseuses who aren’t vampires, but I would bet they are fae or witches. They have a magical touch; that’s for sure. After a sauna, we’re both now relaxing in a giant jacuzzi, like the kind you’d get at a hotel or a gym too expensive for me to afford back home. Reina floats in front of me, and it’s hard to even pretend to be mad at her with her bobbing up and down.

Girl’s tiny. That yin to my yang.

Like a true opposite, she’s also having far more luck tonight in the romance department than I am.

“I hate that grin,” I continue, “because I want to spend that type of quality time with Carver, but he hurried out of here on a top-secret mission. Who knows what’s going on. It could be something he’s heard from Lavinia or shifter prophecies.”

“Do you think he had to go back to Paris?”

I shiver even though the water is bubbling warmly around us. Oh, and despite being undead and immune to temperature. It’s a different kind of shiver and a distinct shadow of fear curling through me. I don’t want Carver anywhere near Morana. As far as she knows, he’s still her loyal assassin, but that’s not how things are anymore, not in reality. The last thing I want is for her to hurt him. It’s the Queen Bitch I don’t trust.

“If he had to go to the court without me, he’d have mentioned it.”

“Then relax. Whatever Carver has going on, he’ll handle it and then you, too, can be riding the pleasure train.”

“All aboard.” I snicker. “Are you and Row staying here?”

“I can’t. If any vamps drop by, you know we can’t explain why a human’s here and in the know. Carver has another estate near Nice that we’re headed towards. I swear, some gals get all the vampiric sugar daddies.”

“Reina!”

She shrugs and dips her head under the water. “I don’t mean it that way, exactly.”

“What way do you mean it?”

“Mostly that this place…”

“Yeah?”

“…is am-az-ing!” She stretches out the word so it feels like far more than three syllables.

I have to agree with her. I’ve never seen anything like this palace except in movies or like on The History Channel when they talk about actual Versailles.

“Being a vampire gets more surreal by the day.”

Reina snorts. “Yeah, but that makes sense. It’d almost be disappointing if there weren’t exotic locales and weird new species popping up. I never imagined that Mama Lisette was anything more than maybe gifted at charms. Now, I know that fae and shifters and vampires and God knows what else are real.”

“Thanks.”

“For making hot monkey love with Row?”

Slapping her lightly on the shoulder---I have to be careful of my strength---I just manage to keep myself from groaning. “No, for being my friend and for being willing to follow me into this crazy, dangerous world.”

“I wouldn’t let you leave me behind.”

I’m about to add something else when one of the servants rushes into the room. She’s a matronly type with a kind face and a rounded figure. She flings a huge, fluffy green robe at me and, at first, starts speaking French. Frowning, I point to my mouth. “English? Um. Parle English?”

The servant’s neck blushes red in her apparent embarrassment, and I realize that she must be a human assistant. Interesting. “Sorry, mademoiselle, but there’s a guest at the door asking for you. Since you’re the lady of the manor right now, it’s best if you take it.”

I frown. “And Row?”

“Rowland is waiting there too. He says it’s a special guest and Reina can’t come, but he also wanted me to tell you it’s safe to come forward.”

I take a deep breath out of habit instead of need. Sliding out of the water, I grab the robe and wrap it around me. “I think we can guess how ‘special’ our guest is. Stay here and enjoy the spa. I do not want anyone even possibly associated with Morana’s court to know about you.”

Eyes as wide as china plates, Reina nods back at me. “I don’t either.”

Anxiety lances through me as I rush with the older woman to the main foyer. It takes a while. Normally, I’d just run but I have no idea where I’m going in a building this large and new, and the servant can’t run at vampiric speed. Whoever has come must wait. When I finally make it to the front door, my expression sours. Standing outside the door with the darkness of the night behind him and the stars twinkling above is Charles. He’s still in the dumbass tights and the velvet top, looking more at home in Fair Verona and among the leads in a Shakespeare play than in modern day France.

“Aura,” Row says, adopting Reina’s nickname for me. Good. I didn’t love my full name, but at least when Carver said it there was something seductive about it. “Your packages have arrived.”

I blink between Charles who is licking his lips at my state of undress and Row who’s flexing his hands into fists at his side. “What?”

Charles steps aside and there must be four full racks of designer dresses. This time, they’re not the poufy reproduction numbers of an Elizabethan or medieval court. No. There’s every type of little black dress available but also sequins, colors, wild cuts of cloth. Everything. The collection before me would make critics at fashion week drool.

And it’s all mine.

“I…Carver mentioned a delivery was possible, but this is so much.”

Charles leans in closer to me than he has to, and his breath is fetid, a sourness to the copper tang there. “Queen Morana wants you presentable. Don’t forget that.”

Swallowing hard, I step back toward Row. “Do whatever you have to do to get this stuff inside and go. Charles, you’re a creep.”

“But we’re part of the same court,” he practically hisses. “Maybe Morana will let you be a prize once in a while for me.”

I don’t need a mirror to know my eyes are flashing silver. “Over my dead body.”

Charles laughs, a nasty sound. “That’s exactly my point.”