"No." Denise took the towel from him and swiped under her eyes. Her mascara was probably everywhere. "We're here. Let's do this. I'll be okay if - this sounds so pathetic - I'll be okay as long as you don't leave me alone again. Being around all those vampires by myself just reminded me too much of - of that night. I don't know if it's possible, at this sort of thing - "
Something flashed across his face, too quick for her to translate. "I won't leave you alone." He held out his hand. "Please."
She placed her hand in his. Then she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
"My makeup is ruined."
"Nonsense, you look beautiful. In fact, I've been propositioned on your behalf twice already."
An edge was in his voice. Denise couldn't tell if it was amusement or annoyance. She decided not to ask.
"I'm sure that'll change after my little psycho episode. It usually leaves a bad impression. That brings up a point, by the way. Aren't you worried that down the road, one of your people will say to Bones or Cat, 'Hey, I recognize the brunette. She's the nut job who belongs to Spade's line,' and then you'll be outed for your role in this?"
Spade's gaze locked with hers, his burnt-copper eyes both distant and fathomless. "No. Because we both know you have no intention of seeing anyone in the vampire world again once this is over."
Denise looked away. Her panic attacks had only abated after she'd cut ties with Cat and anyone else who wasn't human. No way was she going back to being at the mercy of her memories, never knowing when her mind would trick her into thinking she was back at that awful ambush on New Year's Eve.
"You see what being around your kind does to me. I don't want to live like that, and I know how to make it stop."
His hand was still curled around hers, his grip cool, secure, and with an underlying strength that was utterly inhuman.
"Right, then," he said at last. "Let's see if we can't hasten that day for you."
Denise sat to his right at the ornate table in the ballroom, unaware this was the reason behind the discreet gawks she was getting. No doubt she thought those were due to how she'd screamed and blanked out from shock earlier. She didn't realize such an outburst would garner only mild intrigue among his worldly line members. A hysterical human? Who hadn't seen that before?
But what his people hadn't seen was a woman with a beating heart seated at his right during a formal event. Such placement indicated far higher standing than that of mere property, but his left was reserved for Alten, the most senior vampire in his line. Spade had intended for Denise to sit behind him, as was more fitting for property - even favored property. But while that would have been prudent, and likely even sufficient for her PTSD, he found he was loath to let go of her hand.
And that spelled trouble in every language he knew.
If there was a God, Nathanial would be among the people here and Spade would deliver him to the demon tonight. Spade would even put a bow on the sod and wish Raum good sup, as long as that meant Denise exited his life immediately. He could not afford to let himself care for a human. Not again.
Yet the cynic in him wasn't surprised that after the painstakingly long process of introducing Denise to the hundreds of people, alive and undead, in his line, she shook her head in disappointment.
"He's not here," she whispered.
Spade bit back a curse. Right. It would be too easy if he were.
Alten leaned over and handed him a CD. "Financials," he said. "I've run through the numbers. Everything seems on the up-and-up, except for Turner. He's missed his second quarterly in a row."
Spade absently continued to stroke Denise's knuckles. Her skin was still warmer than it should be. Could she have caught ill? Perhaps he shouldn't have sought to irritate her out of her depression with the ridiculously scanty togs she had on. "Mmmph," he grunted.
Alten stared at him. "For the second quarter in a row," he repeated.
Spade snapped his attention back to the other vampire. Yes, right, Turner's refusal to pay ten percent of his salary was an issue. Every vampire owed that to the Master of his line.
"Turner," he called out. "Do you have a reason for missing your tithe?"
The blond-haired vampire came through the others to stand in front of the table. He gave the proper bow, but when Spade caught Turner's scent and saw the mutiny in his expression, he heaved a mental sigh. Turner was about to brass him off something awful.
"I didn't pay my tithe because I want my freedom from your line, sire," Turner said, straightening his shoulders.
Spade eyed him, his patience dwindling by the second. "Undead just forty-four years, and you think you're ready to become Master of your own line?"
"Yes," Turner said. Then, with even more arrogance, "Release me to be my own Master. I have no wish to fight you, but if you deny my request, I will challenge you."
Stupid. Reckless. Fool.
"Overconfidence like that is exactly why you aren't ready to lead your own line yet. Your rashness would get you killed, and then all those you've created would be left without protection. That is why I deny your request for freedom, Turner, and if you follow through with your intention to challenge me, I promise you will regret it."
Out of the corner of his eye, Spade saw Denise looking back and forth between him and Turner. He glanced at her and saw her face was pale. She might not know a great deal about vampire society, but it was clear she understood that unless Turner had a sudden flash of intelligence, things were about to get bloody. That might be disastrous for the hard-fought calm she'd shown these past few hours, surrounded by far more undead people than living ones.
Spade returned his glare to Turner. Turner looked around, and then his hand went to his belt where he had a silver knife.
"I challenge you."
Very slowly, Spade let go of Denise's hand. Then he leaned in, his mouth almost brushing her ear.
"According to my laws, I must answer this. I'll have Alten wait with you in the car. This shouldn't take long."
"I'm staying."
He drew back to see her face. She was still very pale and her fingernails dug grooves into her leg, but her voice had been hard.
"That might not be wise..."
"If I feel a freak-out coming on, I'll leave, but until then, I'm staying."
Stubborn woman. Did no one have any sense tonight?
Spade rose, giving a sharp look to Alten. "If she wants to leave, take her to the car and wait for me there."
Alten quickly masked his surprise with a nod. People didn't decide to get up and leave in the middle of a duel. Especially not property. "As you wish."
If he was being logical, he'd have Alten take Denise to the car now. Instead he was inviting more speculation about Denise, both by seating her at his right and by letting her argue with him publicly. No one has any sense tonight, Spade thought jadedly. Least of all me.
He shoved that thought aside and settled his attention on Turner. He'd have to make an example out of him, else he'd be flooded with challenges from other young vampires thinking they were ready for what they couldn't handle.
Spade pulled off his shirt and set it on his chair, not taking his eyes off Turner. "Withdraw your challenge, or you'll be lucky if I let you live."
Turner shook his head. "No."
So be it, then.
Chapter Six
Denise couldn't tear her eyes away from the two vampires circling each other, even though her common sense screamed at her not to watch. She and Alten were still seated at the table, but everyone else hung back by the walls, giving Spade and Turner the majority of the room for their imminent fight. The ballroom doors were guarded and the catering staff quickly green-eyed into not noticing the abrupt change in the party atmosphere. Even being in a public hotel wouldn't stop this duel from happening. To make matters worse, Spade was weaponless while Turner had a large silver knife.
She leaned across the empty seat toward Alten. "Why isn't Spade allowed to have a weapon?" she whispered.
The vampire looked startled that she'd spoken to him, but he replied in a low voice, "He's allowed. He's just choosing not to use one."
"Why?" Denise blurted.
Dozens of heads swung her way. Even Spade paused in his predatory stride to throw her a single glare that spoke volumes.
Right. Guess it wasn't appropriate "property" behavior for her to wonder why Spade would fight unarmed against a vampire who had a big damn knife!
Something blurred, then a red slash appeared under Spade's chest. Somehow, the two vampires were now several feet away from where they'd been an instant ago and Turner's knife had a smear of red on it. Denise fought back a gasp. He'd slashed Spade too quickly for her to see it.
"Forfeit the duel and give me my freedom," Turner said, waving the knife while he began to circle again.
Spade laughed, a cold sound that was more scary than amused. "That was your best chance to kill me, but you missed it. How long do you think you'll be able to hold on to that knife until I take it from you?"
The wound on Spade's chest closed before he was finished speaking, but the smear remained. It was so vivid against the pale, muscled smoothness of his skin. Like scarlet against snow. Spade's eyes glowed with green fire, meeting Turner's equally bright gaze.
Denise couldn't stop the flood of mental images. Glowing green eyes burning through the waning light. Vampires everywhere, blood and dirt spattering them. She slipped, landing in something dark and sticky. The stain coated the floor, widening as it led to the kitchen...
"No," she whispered, pushing at the memories. Not now. Not here.
Alten looked at her sharply, but this time, Spade didn't deviate his attention from Turner. Another blur of limbs ended with Turner thrown onto his back, Spade standing over him holding that silver knife.
"Lose something?" Spade asked, wiggling it.
Turner had blood on him now, too, in a red X on his chest that remained even as his cuts healed. The X was directly over where his heart would be. Denise shuddered. The warning couldn't be clearer.
The memories continued to push as her. Blood looks different in the dark. Almost black. Green light from a passing vampire's gaze shone on the large, misshapen lumps in front of her. What were those?
Her hands went to her head, pressing against her temples as if she could physically force the memories back. Not. Now.
Turner lunged, nothing more than a pale streak of movement to her eyes. Spade whirled, more red appearing on Turner as if by magic. Another rush of flesh, a cry, and Turner stumbled back, clutching his stomach. Something thick and wet hit the floor.
Denise wound her hands in Spade's discarded shirt to keep from screaming and bolting out of her chair. Spade's whole hand and wrist were red, not to mention the knife, but he stood there almost casually, waiting while Turner gasped in pain, bent over.
"Hurts quite a bit, doesn't it?" Spade asked. "It's one thing to get cut up in a brawl, but another to have your guts spilled out of you. Have to be very strong to fight through that sort of pain. You're not nearly strong enough, but you want to be Master of your own line?"
"No one's...strong enough," Turner got out, straightening at last. His stomach was healed, but it had taken several seconds. Long enough for Spade to have killed him multiple times over, if he'd wanted to.
Spade's brow arched. "Is that so?" He tossed the knife at Turner's feet. "Strike the same blow, and if you can land that blade through my heart before I've recovered from it, you win your freedom."
Denise sucked in a horrified breath. Was Spade crazy? Why wasn't anyone else speaking up about what an insane suggestion that was?
Turner's blond head seemed to merge with Spade's black one as he leapt at him in a flurry of movement. For a few frenzied moments, their bodies were a crystal-and-red splattered whir, until Turner fell back with the knife's hilt buried in his chest where the red X had been. Spade stood over him, one hand across his stomach, something red and squishy-looking near his feet.
"Yield, or I'll twist that knife," Spade said darkly.
Turner looked at the blade sticking out of his chest and then his head flopped back. "I withdraw my challenge," he rasped.
Denise felt an instant of overwhelming relief. Then she threw up into Spade's designer shirt.
Spade slid into the car, his coat the only thing on over his pants. Denise was waiting in the passenger seat, looking like she wished the ground would swallow her.
"I'm so sorry, I'll have your shirt dry cleaned," she said as soon as he shut the door.
He let out a short laugh. "That's quite all right. I threw it away."
"There's no way to describe tonight without using the phrase cluster f**k, is there?" she asked dryly.
My dear Denise, you have no idea. "It changes things," he said at last. "No one would believe you're merely my property after tonight."
Her expression flittered between sorrow and accep tance, then she forced a smile. "I understand. Thanks for all you've done. I know where not to look for Nathanial now, and that's a start. Oh, and you don't have to worry. I still won't involve Bones. I'll find another way."
Spade continued to stare at her, unblinking. This was his chance to be rid of her. He needed to take it. It was for the best.
Instead he found himself saying, "I won't leave you without help."
Gratitude flashed across her face. "I'll be so much better with whoever you refer me to. I'll act obedient, I won't puke on their clothes - "