Maybe the King’s Audience House number?

No. There were rules against fraternizing with humans, ones that she was very certain precluded underground-fighting in a sea of Homo sapiens and trying to kill members of that species in front of hundreds of those rats without tails. If she called the King’s people, both she and this vampire were going to be in huge trouble.

And Rhoger had to come first.

“Is there someone I can get for you—”

“Go,” he said between labored breaths. “You must leave me. Save yourself!”

His voice was very deep and really rough, and when she didn’t respond, his eyes focused on her with a glare that shot right through the back of her skull.

“For godsakes, female, take care of yourself.”

It was the very last thing she expected him to say, and when he repeated the strained words, Mae got to her feet and stumbled back. As she moved away, his hard stare tracked her, even if she wasn’t sure he was seeing her.

“Go,” he ordered in spite of the blood coming out the side of his neck. “Go!”

“I’m sorry—”

“Like I give a shit!”

Trembling from head to foot, Mae closed her eyes and tried to concentrate.

When she was finally able to dematerialize, the gurgling sounds of the dying vampire haunted her. But she had her own problems, and he was right. She had to take care of herself. Her brother was depending on her.

Besides, if you lived by the fight, you died by the fight.

It was a fact of fate, and not something someone like her could try to change.

How do you know we were supposed to be in Paris?”

As the triplex’s Mrs. presented the quite reasonable question to Balz, he found himself totally distracted by what she looked like under that ceiling light. Those breasts of hers were . . . tight-tipped because it was a little chilly . . . and that thin, ever-so-slightly-seethrough silk was almost better than completely naked.

Because it gave a male a job to do. Slowly. With his tongue.

While he made a short film of the two of them together in his head, the Mrs. started talking to him again, her mouth moving, her expression expectant but not alarmed. Courtesy of the images in Balz’s mind, however, all he heard was the Teri Hatcher line from that Seinfeld episode: They’re real and they’re spectacular.

“. . . you?”

“What?” Balz murmured. “I’m sorry, I was distracted.”

“Are you taking that.” The Mrs. pointed to the Cartier jewel case. “In your hand.”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “I am.”

“Oh.” Her expression grew remote. “My husband bought that necklace for me a year ago. For our anniversary.”

“You want me to snag something else, then?”

After a moment, she shook her head. “No. That’s fine.”

Balz smiled some more. “You think you’re dreaming, don’t you.”

The Mrs. smiled back. “I would be terrified otherwise.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“But you’re a thief, aren’t you?”

“Thieves steal objects.” He tapped the jewel case. “We don’t hurt people.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Her eyes drifted to his mouth. And then continued down across his chest. His abs. They lingered on his hips . . . like she was wondering exactly what was behind his fly and how well he could use it. “That’s really good. Yes.”

“Tell me something, is your husband here?” Balz murmured as he felt his body stir in places that had been woefully underutilized of late.

“No. He’s in Idaho.”

Balz blinked. “Idaho? Is that why you didn’t go to France?”

“Idaho is more important. Even though it’s our anniversary tonight.”

“I can’t fathom that math.”

“He has a company that’s headquartered there. It’s a manufacturing firm. They need a lot of space, and the land value is very reasonable. He has his own plane and they have a runway for him.” Abruptly, her eyes lowered. “But business is not why he’s really going there.”

“Why’s he going?”

“He has . . . a friend. In Idaho.”

“What kind of friend.” When she didn’t elaborate, Balz muttered, “That man is a fool.”

Those pretty dark eyes returned to his own and her hands, graceful and worried, went to the bodice of her nightgown. “Do you think?”

“Think what. That he’s missing out, not being with you? Fuck yeah—” Balz put his free hand forward. “’Scuse my French.”

As the Mrs. blushed faintly and looked down again, it was beyond sad that this beautiful woman needed reassurance from a thief. Then again, who better to ascertain value?

“So he’s in Idaho.” Never had Balz liked a state more. “How nice, especially this time of year.”

The Mrs. lifted her eyes. “Oh, no, the weather is awful in the early spring.”

“I disagree. I think the weather is perfect for him.” May the bastard get frostbite on his pecker. “Just like things are better for you here in Caldwell. Much, much . . . better.”

After a moment, she nodded slowly. “It is very nice here. This time of year.”

Funny, he reflected, how two strangers could ask and answer things using words that had fuck all to do with what they were really talking about.

“And I think you’re wrong,” Balz said as he popped the lid on the necklace box. “If your husband bought this for you for your anniversary, you should definitely keep it.”

Her eyes went to the jewelry case. In a hard tone, she muttered, “It’s insured. So he’ll get his money back. He always gets his money back.”

“Still, there should be a sentimental attachment to it.” He freed the collar of diamonds from its velvet nest with his pinkie and tossed the case over his shoulder. “Something to make you smile when you wear it.”

“You think so?” she asked.

Balz nodded. “I know so. And I’ll prove it to you.”

“Will you?”

“Yes.” He walked over to her. “Right now.”

The scent of her arousal totally got him going. But like his erection needed help considering her body?

Balz unclipped the clasp and then he turned the diamonds around so they faced front and reached across the electric air between them.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I’m putting your husband’s necklace around your neck.” He lowered his lips right next to her ear as he refastened the clasp. “So I can fuck you with it on.”

Her gasp was erotic as hell. “Why . . . why . . . why would you do that?”

Balz eased back. Her heart rate was flickering at her jugular, and as she breathed fast, the silk of her nightgown moved up and down over her nipples. Fuck, he was hungry all of a sudden. Ravenous.

“It takes more than just diamonds to make a woman feel beautiful.” He trailed a fingertip over the skin at the base of her throat, following the necklace’s contours. “It’s something that husband of yours should remember. And since he doesn’t care, I’m going to give you all kinds of memories to go with these cold, icy stones.”