The waiter interrupted Claude’s response, dropping a piping hot pizza onto the middle of our table. The smell made my mouth water.

“I’m not winning this argument, am I?”

I reached for the spatula, slipped it under a slice of pizza, and scooped it onto my plate. “Nope.”

Convincing Claude, as it turned out, was the easy part. The harder part proved to be finding a dress in time that I didn’t totally hate and could actually afford. After refusing Claude’s offer to shop with me, I finally found one at a Nordstrom at the Shops at North Bridge. It was sleeveless. Even better, it had an Asian-style neckline that was just high enough to cover part of what was left of the bite mark he’d left low on my neck. I’d have to cover the fading marks with makeup to be sure.

The cocktail dress was quite pretty, black and short and it fit my slender body just so. I had no doubt that it would look low-class and simple compared to many of the Magister’s guests. But I shouldn’t be terribly underdressed, not enough to be noticed, if Claude was right about the gala’s tone. Besides, I didn’t have thousands of dollars to waste on a dress I would only wear for one night. A night of spying on vampires, no less.

It would just have to do.

I packed it up with a pair of shoes and a clutch that I’d found in the same store, then took a cab back to Claude’s. The doorman barely glanced at me and my dress bag, and I was back up to the condo without a hitch.

Claude wasn’t in any of the common areas. A couple of hours yet until I had to get ready, so I decided to spend some quality time with the brand. Pleasant or no, it might be useful. Besides, I needed to think of anything but the vampire. The horrible torture of a selkie would do the trick.

The second I touched the brand the world around me disappeared. White noise rushed through my ears and blackness filled my sight. Then the brand burst into my field of vision, bright and almost painful to look at. Panic and confusion hit me like a punch to the gut.

Then the Magister.

His face filled my vision, anger twisted his mouth, and I tried to cringe away. The vision rolled back, flashing and moving like a stop-motion film half shot. The brand was in his hand—still attached to the long handle that had once held it. He yanked at it, yelling words I couldn’t hear. Clouded by the darkness of the vision’s edge, another person gripped the brand, too. Were they fighting over it? I couldn’t make any sense of it, too much fear. Too much panic. Needed to run.

The clatter of the brand hitting Claude’s coffee table startled me, and I gasped for air. Then an arm slipped behind me and Claude sat next to me on the couch. He pulled me close to him, his strong body supporting mine. His scent surrounded me and filled my lungs.

I leaned into him, unable to resist the comfort when the vision was so fresh. Panic still tumbled through me, making me want to turn and run. But it wasn’t something that I could run from. I’d carry the vision within myself.

Always.

Chapter Ten

The vision had shaken me more than I wanted to admit. So when it came time to get ready for the party, my hands trembled when I tried to do my makeup. No matter how I tried, my eyeliner refused to go on right, and no way could I use my mascara. It took a heck of a lot of smoothing to make me presentable, but I got the added bonus of a smoky look around my eyes, courtesy of the need to smudge everything together so that my squiggly lines couldn’t be seen by the world.

Claude watched me walk the hallway from my room like a high school boy watching his prom date descending the stairs, wide-eyed and with hopeful passion in his eyes. Nerves fluttered in my stomach at the sight of him, too. And for half a second I forgot. I forgot that we were only friends—if that. I forgot that we were headed to a dangerous gala where a sociopath waited. I forgot that we weren’t in love.

And in that moment, the expression on Claude’s face made me think he forgot, too.

His gaze slid slowly down my body, as if he had all night to take me in. Then his eyes met mine, and I could see so many things reflected in those light blue depths. Desire that made my stomach tighten. But something else, too. He looked almost hopeful.

“You’re beautiful, mon chou,” he murmured when I got close.

He didn’t look so shabby himself. Hair styled back from his face revealed his strong jaw and bright eyes in a way that he normally hid. The suit tailored to his long, lean body revealed the breadth of his shoulders, and hinted at the strong muscles of his chest and legs. He was a panty-dropping hunk of vampire. He told me that I looked beautiful but he looked like he’d come from another world.

“Let’s go,” I said, then swallowed to clear the lump from my throat. I had to stymie this line of thought. Sure, the man was pretty. But I’d be damned if I had to dwell on it.

I reached for the clutch I’d bought with the dress and shoes, and paused when I saw my hand visibly shake. I shouldn’t have.

Claude intercepted my hand, taking it with his own. His cool thumb slid across my skin.

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine.”

“Does this happen often with visions?”

Too often. “I’m just rundown. Can we go, please?” There was a desperate note in my voice that I didn’t like one bit. If I caved with Claude, I’d have to admit how I felt about him. And I wasn’t entirely sure that I trusted him any longer. He was a good man—he was. Even if he had been a misguided jerk to me once. But he’d also proven that he trusted the wrong people. And that misplaced trust could screw us both.

That dangerous hand gripped mine for a moment longer, then he pulled it to his lips and brushed them against my skin. My breath caught, and a shiver ran through my body that had nothing to do with the vision.

“We could be fashionably late,” he said, voice low and smooth.

The idea sounded good—too good. Being with Claude would bring me back from the vision, give me something to concentrate on that was very real, and very overwhelming. I wanted to stay and make love to him so badly that it twisted my gut and made my fingertips tingle.

And that’s exactly why I couldn’t.

“No,” I finally managed. “We have work to do.”

Despite Claude’s offhand assertion that we weren’t already fashionably late, the party was in full swing when we arrived. A harried valet took Claude’s keys, and classical music flowed from the large manor the Magister called home.

“Seems like an odd time of year for a big party like this.”

“He has several throughout the year. A good opportunity to politic, and to remind people who is in charge.”

“Not sure I’d invite people I planned on threatening into my home.”

Claude grinned. “The main house is actually on the other side of the property. This is sort of a ballroom area with guest suites. It’s used a lot for official visitors—other Magisters, their people. Visiting dignitaries and such.”

Of course the Magister had more than one house on the same property. Who didn’t?

A blast of cold air hit me. Why hadn’t I thought to buy a wrap? My jacket had been too casual to wear with the dress, and I’d shrugged off Claude’s offer to stop somewhere on the way. But thankfully the distance from the valet station to the front door was short, and I’d worn my coat from Claude’s condo until his car had warmed up.

Luck proved to be on my side though, because warmth flooded me as soon as I cleared the door into the manor. Whether due to the vampires’ rather useful tolerance for temperature variations that exceeded that of us normals, or because they were trying just a little too hard to combat the frigid Chicago cold, they had the thermostat set just perfect for a human in a cocktail dress sans wrap. Convenient, and probably meant that this party catered to a mixed otherworlder crowd, like the giant said.

“You ready?” Claude asked, offering me his arm.

I took it and a tingle ran through me at the touch. Just the cold bothering me. It wasn’t anticipation; it was the beginning of frostbite.

“Wow,” I muttered when we hit the main ballroom after traveling down a short hallway and passing a coat check along the way.

The vampires and their guests were impressive. Dresses of every shape and current fashion graced the hall. Nothing vintage, like I’d thought we might see. Vampires, it seemed, did not dwell on the past.

At least not in a public forum.

Music flowed, not from a jukebox or DJ, but from a small group of men in tuxedos with string instruments held close to their bodies and sweat touching their shining foreheads. And waiters, also in tuxes, distributed drinks in crystal glasses, and several types of appetizers. I was happy to see that while some women wore evening gowns that sparkled against the low lighting, others wore cocktail dresses not too dissimilar from my own.

“It’s like something from a movie.” I kept my voice low, but vampires had excellent hearing.

“Thank you, my dear. I’m glad that someone appreciates all of the trouble my kind assistant has gone to.” The voice was unfamiliar, confident, and deep. “Please, Claude, introduce us.”

Claude shifted a step back, so I could see the man who approached from his left.

The air left my lungs, and my stomach dropped.

I knew every tiny line around those eyes. The way the light glinted off his thick hair. I had seen that falsely young, handsome face in my nightmares since I was ten years old. Nightmares that had returned with renewed force since I’d touched that brand.

“Of course. Maître, this is my date and friend, Beatrice Davis. Beatrice, this is Luc Chevalier, our host for the evening and the area Magister.”

I managed to mutter something appropriate, and I hoped that the Magister considered my tongue-tied nature a compliment. That his station and power had overwhelmed me. After all, the Magister didn’t know me to be anything other than Claude’s date. For all he knew, I was easily impressed by vampires—especially Magisters.

“I need to speak with you alone for a moment, Claude. If you don’t mind, my dear.”

The Magister wasn’t really seeking my permission, but he was polite, I’d give him that. I nodded, trying to keep a smile on my face, since I couldn’t bring myself to speak.