“Relax, Tracker, this will only hurt a little bit,” he murmured as his lips covered mine, the taste of coppery sweet blood coating the inside of my mouth. His power washed out over me, and I responded to the heat of his kiss, my mind blank as to why I shouldn’t. He let go of my hands, and I didn’t push him away, instead twinning my fingers through his hair and pulling him tight against me. The taste of his blood was sweet like honey and I couldn’t get enough of it or him. His arousal pressed against my belly and I squirmed, wanting more of what he had, what he was forgotten under the haze of what he was doing to me.

His fingers slid down my arms, taking one hand and shifting it between us, placing it over his hardness, groaning as my fingers clenched on him.

And then the world around me scattered, pain lighting up my nerve endings for a single heartbeat before I was inside his memories.

*-*-*-*

O’Shea had no f**king idea where he was. London, yes, but other than that his senses had been completely turned around. When they’d reached the carriage, Milly laid a spell on him blocking his sight and hearing. Except for his nose, which kept on picking up the scent of fish, he had nothing to rely on.

His gut still churned from what had happened at the police station. The look on Rylee’s face, the fact that he’d charged her and could have killed her if Milly had commanded him too. There had to be a way for him to stop this. He had to believe that he could break this spell or he’d go mad.

Finally a gust of new air washed in and around him; likely Milly had opened the door. Not that he could do anything about it anyway—commanded as he was not to move. Ocean air filled his nostrils followed by a sharp tang of men’s sweat, diesel fuel and fish. Lots and lots of fish. They were either on the docks or very close.

With a blinding flash, he could see and hear, the noise of the docks making him cringe—or they would have if he’d been able to move. Yes, they were on the docks, a large boat trimmed in red and black waited directly ahead of them. The Saint Marie II.

“Come along, Liam.” Milly called over her shoulder as she headed toward the boat.

Come along? Could he circumvent that? He took a step toward her and then one to the side. Yup, he could do this his way. With her back to him, confident in her spell, she couldn’t see what he was up to; this might be the only chance he got. Zig zagging he tested the limits of what he could do. As long as he went in her general direction, he could go side to side. On the far left was a vendor selling wax candles and a thought popped into his head. Would the torc work if his ears were plugged?

He ran hard for the candle maker, feeling the tension of the torc on his neck increase the further from Milly he got. Literally at the end of his leash, his throat tensed, squeezing shut on his breath.

“Liam!”

Shit, she was on to him. One last heave and he leapt toward the candle maker’s stand, sending the entire wares and the shop owner crashing to the ground. Fumbling in the mess, while the shop owner screeched creating a perfect diversion, he grabbed a chunk of soft wax and tucked it into the hole in the waistband of his khakis. It would have to wait for later, but it gave him a bit of hope that perhaps Milly hadn’t bested him yet.

There was no way he was going to just lay down and let her win, not with his life, and more importantly, Rylee’s on the line.

*-*-*-*

Faris’ memories were not what I expected.

In fact, there was no blood, no gore, no tearing of throats or even mutilated bodies.

I was at a ball, one of those old school, big fluffed-up dresses kind of balls. Blinking, I stared around me, knowing that I wasn’t there, not really. A waltz played in the background, smooth and elegant; it seemed to be keyed to the dancers instead of the other way around. All of the couples who swept past me were vampires, the tilt of their heads, the tips of fangs glimpsed and then gone, showing me clearly what I was looking at. They weren’t trying to hide what they were. The thing is, there were only about thirty couples, which meant that every goddamned vampire in the world was attending this soiree.

“I’ll be buggered,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. Faris wanted me to see a ball and some dressed up vampires? Was he trying to prove how civilized he could be?

My feet didn’t move, but the view shifted and I was now across the room standing next to Faris. Not the Faris I knew, but one that was dressed up in a puffy shirt with long drooping lace sleeves, knee high boots with pants tucked in the top and several over the top bling-bling rings on his fingers. How very Lestat of him. Seeing him like this, I could imagine how easy it would be for him to find his victims. If he wasn’t a vampire, I could have acknowledged how good looking he was. No, that was too tame. Even in his ridiculous clothes, the vamp had “Fuck me, baby” written all over him. His hair was longer, trailing past his shoulders, but tied back with a leather thong. Icy blue eyes took in everything, softening here and there. That took me aback. Then he, Faris the vampire that had been trying to play some twisted wicked game with me, winked at one of the serving ladies. She was quite a bit older, dowdy, and obviously not used to attention from the vamps. She blushed and he gave her a smile.

Well, I’ll be buggered, he was being . . . nice. I didn’t like it. I didn’t need my view of him challenged. A hazy feel of lips on mine, and my hand on a hard piece of decidedly male anatomy filtered through me. What was going on with my real body? Shit, this memory had better hurry up.

The music faded and the crowd parted for a matched pair of vampires, a perfect set, thin circlets set on their heads. My guess was these were the previous leaders, the ones who’d been killed by none other than Faris. Emperor and Empress. They drew close to Faris, and so, of course, just as close to me. Even knowing they couldn’t see me, I stepped back.

Red hair the color of dried blood flowed down their backs, and dark, almost black eyes regarded Faris with a cool detachment. They were beautiful, stunning, but in a sharp, cruel way that made me want to cringe.

Faris went to one knee, inclining his head ever so slightly. A subtle gasp went around the room. How was I not surprised he would give them offence?

“Faris,” the Emperor intoned, his voice rippling out over the crowd amplified right to the point of making you want to cover your ears. “You are being difficult again.”

“My liege, never have I been difficult.”

The Empress laughed and leaned forward, giving me an ample view down the front of her shirt. Small bite marks marred her creamy skin as far as I could see.

“Nasty,” I mumbled and her head snapped up . . . as if she could hear me. I froze in place. Had Faris somehow transported me here? Fuck, I was so dead.

“What is it?” The Emperor asked.

She shook her head, eyes searching where I stood.

“I felt someone, as if they were here, but not. A shadow of a soul.” She laughed, soft enough that her lips moved only fractionally. “It feels like the kiss of a lost one.”

She might as well have grabbed me around the throat and squeezed. That was what Giselle had called me. Sort of. She’d said I had the Blood of the Lost ones in me. I took a breath, held it, and then let it out slowly. No, they couldn’t see me; I wasn’t really here. Was I?

The Empress shook her head again, and then looked back to Faris.

“You know the rules, Faris, and you know we have changed them.”

“To favor your so-called child.”

Again, the gasp went up around the room. I got the feeling no one took on the vampire royalty. Again, how did it not surprise me that Faris was doing just that?

“Yes,” the Emperor said, smiling down on the still kneeling Faris. “We would favor her. She is the one the Empress saw, the one who will bring the world to its knees, and put our kind where they belong. Ruling the humans.”

I grit my teeth. I didn’t like this, not one bit. But I had to admit, at least to myself, that it was fascinating to watch this little drama play out. The tension was building and I knew from experience that something big was coming.

“That is a fool’s way,” Faris snapped, lifting his head to glare up at his leaders. “We would decimate the population; our kind is not meant to live that way.”

There was a subtle shift in the room, a collective stepping back. Everyone was getting out of the way.

Faris straightened his legs and stood, facing the redheaded vampires. “You would go against the very creed?”

The Empress tipped her head and once more looked at me; I squirmed where I stood.

“I believe you are challenging our right to rule. Is that correct, Faris of the muddied blood?”

The vampire I stood beside shivered, his blue eyes going glacial.

“You have no right to dictate.” He acted as if she hadn’t insulted him. “The Old One is to be asked and then the challenge given. That is the way. That is how we have survived each passing of our liege to the next.”

Before the Emperors could respond, Faris lifted his hand, beckoning someone from deep in the shadows of the room.

There was a shuffling behind us and a petite old woman stepped into view. She was ancient, her face a line of wrinkles, yet they were surprisingly pleasant. There was the look of a sweet old granny in her, and I struggled with that thought knowing that she was a vampire, the slightest flash of fang confirming my thought. She was dressed in a floor length grey shimmering gown that was offset by her long train of bright white hair. Her hazel eyes were clear though, sharp in their intelligence. Maybe the sweet old granny analogy wasn’t as close as I’d thought.

The Old One came forward, using an ornate walking cane to guide her. Faris stepped back to allow her into the presence of the Emperor and Empress. The Old One did not bow nor scrape. She got right to business.

“I have seen in my visions the coming of a new dawn. Soon your bones will be dust and ashes.” Her voice had only a slight tremble to it. I wondered how old of a vampire she was if she looked and sounded as old as Yoda.

The Empress put her hand to her chest. “You are not the only one with visions.”

“I am the only one with true visions,” The Old One replied, surprising me with her strength and razor sharp sudden anger.