“Darling, it’s also the fact that you’re not just some random shopkeeper in London, or a solicitor, whatever. You are Rowan Summerwaite. Vessel, Hunter, mated to the Scion of North America. Raised by the First. Our world is crawling with those who are fascinated by any or all your myriad strengths and miracles.”

  He quite disliked it when she discounted just how incredible she was.

  She shot him a smile. A secret flash of appreciation and affection and he soaked it in.

  “It all adds up to those in our world are too in my business for me to be able to keep this prophecy stuff secret. What’s a secret weapon, however, is whatever information I get from these dreams and knowings and goddess knows what else I might start doing.”

  He frowned at that last bit. “Let us hope dreams and knowings will be enough. You will inform me as soon as possible if not immediately if anything else happens.” Not a request. He didn’t care that David, Elisabeth, and Betchamp were around.

  Rowan gave him a look, he knew, considering insulting him or arguing in some way. But the line of her mouth softened.

  “As for the rest? I think it’s a fair approach and an excellent example for the paranormal community of your strength and cunning.”

  “If it scares off even a third of those who might have made a run at me, it’s a win. I wish they all respected me and didn’t act like dicks, but sometimes you gotta use terror as an example.” Rowan shrugged.

  “I most certainly agree with that. If they fear you, they will avoid crossing you. It makes my job easier as well. If my Vampires are convinced you’re too much to take on, some will choose to find another way to deal with a need or a problem that doesn’t include breaking the Treaty.”

  David picked up his phone when it chimed at him, but it was the soft intake of breath and the shift of his attention to Clive that sent a chill down Clive’s spine. David seemed to be giving Clive a few seconds to be the one to tell Rowan about whatever it was before he did.

  Chapter Nine

  Sage, salt, copper, and the slightest thread of ozone greeted Genevieve when she stepped from the car she’d parked in her garage. Darius pulled his motorcycle next to her and she didn’t stop herself from taking in the way he moved as he swung one long leg over the seat to saunter over to where she stood on the driveway.

  Motes of power floated freely, sticking to her hair like snowflakes. Slowly melting into her. It had been that way since the first time she’d been to the house she now called hers. So much power it seemed to fall from the sky, swirl around her like autumn leaves or springtime cherry blossoms.

  Three houses ringed a large cul-de-sac with drought-resistant plants in their front yards. All sat back from the street and sidewalk and the scale of the curve they all stood in was large enough that while they were neighbors, there was plenty of space between each property.

  There were other noises rising in the air all around them, but her attention snagged on Darius. Nothing else was as interesting. He stepped close enough that the width of his shoulders haloed the light around him.

  She’d noticed that. Light seemed to have different rules when it came to Darius. Sometimes it seemed to flirt over his features, at turns fierce and shadowy or bronzed and sensual. Always intense. There was a sense of deep time that emanated from him that humbled her. Fascinated her. His magic was vast and ageless and seemed as integral a part of him as Genevieve’s own was.

  But his was elemental in a wholly unique way. It seemed endless and without form. A huge, churning sea of power and magic that called to her. He was the moon, drawing her, swelling all around until she was drunk with him.

  Glorious.

  “Already our ground feels different—better—with you here. Your magic has...flavored ours. I can taste you.” He sucked in a deep breath and held it for a moment before exhaling.

  His magic seemed to come to life, swirling around hers as he exhaled. Glittering onyx shards, slivers of gold, and mists of silver caressed the air, landed on her skin, leaving a tingling in its wake.

  Right then, the earth at her feet, the sand and sage and that vein of salt all surged up, pleased to greet her. That welcome had filled an empty spot and had soothed the voices inside. Had settled that anxious need she’d had for the last two decades to float around.

  The moon hung overhead, heavy and fecund. Even the time was magic as it passed, weaving between them something deeper. Achingly intimate.

  * * *

  Darius looked at this ethereal witch and yet another part he’d thought frozen over forever thawed. Sparked to life once more. It had happened more than once since she’d walked into their bar the month before.

  Moonlight silvered over her, highlighting her beauty and that bright spark she carried within, Her facets like the glittering center of a precious gem.

  He hadn’t wanted so deeply in thousands of years.

  Each breath he took was full of her as the night settled all around them. He held his elbow out and she wrapped her hand around it; the heat of her sent a wave of pleasure through him.

  “That’s new,” he said as they reached her front door and noted the explosion of blooms on the giant bougainvillea on either side of her porch.

  “Oh. Yes, yes, it is.” She smiled and he turned to face her.

  She was so close he could scent her skin and the myriad flavors of the magic that ran through her cells. Spicy. Alluring. Sweet. A little bitter here and there. All her.

  Genevieve tipped her head back to look at him better, her lips slightly open, and there was nothing else he could do but lower his head to capture her mouth with his own.

  She only looked soft and fragile. The moment he met her lips and the kiss had begun there was no hesitation. She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck as they both stepped closer, body to body.

  He hissed at the contact. Little arcs of electricity zipped between them, the storm of his power rising to greet hers, not quieting, but calming. Containing itself to keep her close. His awareness of all the levels of his othersight—his magical ability to see the world around him in myriad ways—seemed to expand outward, farther and farther. Her power seemed to amplify his, boosting his sensitivity, stealing his breath.

  Her taste was tangerine and allspice. Her tongue stroked his and she made a small sound in the back of her throat he’d kill to seduce from her again. Against him, her body was lithe but strong, the fire of her existence warm and bright as the sun.

  He’d wanted this. Had thought over and over about the moment their slow dance became something deeper. His mistake was in underestimating his attraction to his pretty witch. Thought perhaps she was an itch to scratch and some fascinating company in his life.

  But her kiss, those arms wrapped around his neck as she gave as good as she got, their power coating one another until it rendered him drunk, told him this craving for her had dug its claws in. The way he wanted his hands or mouth on her every moment of the day had come to live in him and had no plans to move.

  It was bigger than he’d assumed, but far too late to do anything but continue forward to see what else this witch had in store for his life.

  His hands had come to rest at her hips, and for long moments the image of holding her like that as he slid deep into her body over and over sent shivers racing over his skin. With a shudder at the effort it took, he forced himself to break the kiss before he slid his palms down to grab her ass and haul her to the bedroom.

  They paused for long moments, both breathing a little harder than usual.

  “There’ll be more of that,” he said. Not a question. A statement because the heat between them was only the tip of his attraction to their priestess.

  “I’m pleased to hear it,” she said, her lips quirking up into a smile.

  “I smeared your lipstick,” he told her, using the pad of his thumb to swipe the side of her mouth.

  “I know.” She stepped to a mirror in her front entry and reapplied a pretty pink shade to lips swollen from his kiss and quirked into a smile. There was something so secret and special between them right there, in that bubble of time. Things had changed after the kiss. They’d drawn closer. She wasn’t wary or afraid at all, so he set aside that worry that she’d be discomfited by what he was. The feral quality he and all the rest of the Devils possessed scared a lot of people. Usually that was great because it kept them out of Devil business. But if he’d have seen fear in her eyes—fear of him—it would have sliced to the bone.

  He stepped to her side, grabbing a tissue from the table fronting the mirror she’d just used so he could erase the evidence they’d been kissing. The outward evidence. Inside everything had changed and there was no wiping that away.

  Lorraine called out from the center of the house and as one, he and Genevieve headed to her.

  Darius had developed a tender spot for Madame Lorraine. Gruff, cranky, and no small bit tyrannical, she ran Genevieve’s house and her life with confidence, force, and deep love.

  In a French so old it had taken him a few days to remember how to speak it, Lorraine pointed at the large envelope on the nearby table. She nodded her head at Darius in greeting and he bent over her hand to kiss it.

  From the corner of his gaze, he noted Genevieve’s soft smile as she turned to the papers she needed to sign.

  “Have you eaten?” Lorraine demanded as she poked a finger into his ribs like he wasn’t a being that scared people off from feet away.

  Before he could answer, she took his hand and pulled him to the kitchen island and ordered him to sit.

  Guess he was eating.

  “Is all well?” he asked Genevieve, who was still examining the paperwork.

  “No. What I do know,” she said, laying the small stack back on the table, “is that I’m not going to sign anything before more research.”

  Lorraine put a sandwich wrap in front of him, along with some sort of pickled vegetable salad. Genevieve told her she’d eaten only an hour before at Rowan’s. And she got a death stare and a plate with a smaller version of his wrap and the pickle.

  Guess she was eating too.

  She pulled out a pipe and lit it, taking several slow, deep hits, blowing the funky fragrant smoke out in a long stream. He’d noticed the difference since she’d taken on the position of their priestess. She needed to smoke less. Got lost in those facets of hers less. It pleased him that the Trick had done her a measure of good because she’d most certainly done it for them. Since she’d joined them, her magic had created a veritable daily feast for the Devils. So much energy flowed now that she’d opened the taps.

  “Can you talk about it with me? Whatever is bothering you?” he asked, wanting very much for her to share.

  “Two days ago when I was at the Conclave for meetings, it came to my attention that there were rumors of some families working together to force the Senate to relax rules regarding magic use and humans. This proposal is to allow magic use for entertainment purposes at a casino owned by a prominent family within the Conclave. Normally, I don’t much care when it comes to magic shows or illusionist acts.” She shrugged one shoulder. “But this is asking to use coercive magic in situations where humans might refuse otherwise. Card tricks on stage aren’t misuse of magical talent. But.”

  He waited, not speaking. Just listening.

  “This feels connected to those rumors. And I oppose any move that chips away at our laws restricting our talent to make someone do something they would not do otherwise. If there’s no consent, I don’t support it outside situations of self-defense. I don’t know any of these witches well but for one unpleasant encounter before my first meeting the day before yesterday. I can remedy my information deficit on the rest by asking trusted sources.” She shook her head.

  “You are no youngling, Genevieve. You understand there are things you know because there’s concrete proof in front of you, and things you know because on some level, your magic is saying to stop and look closer. Don’t sign anything until you’re satisfied you looked closely enough. If this family does not like your delay, they can speak to me about it.”

  Her laugh exploded from her, showering the whole space with joy that was uniquely hers. “Oh if I could, Darius. What a delight that would be.”

  “They will be frightened enough of Genevieve,” Lorraine said. “She only looks soft and pretty. Inside she is a warrior.”

  “On the outside too,” Darius murmured. “The beauty is what they get caught up in, but the ferocity is on the surface as well. In shadows and dips, in the shift of her gaze, and the confidence of her walk in sky-high heels.”

  “You two will turn my head and spoil me. I shall have a rather high opinion of myself and then what?” Genevieve teased.

  “Then you will have finally taken the lesson of your worth,” Lorraine said shortly.

  Genevieve moved from his side to Lorraine, taking the other woman into her arms, embracing one another for long moments.

  * * *

  “I am entirely certain I could not survive without you. Thank you,” Genevieve said softly in Lorraine’s ear.

  A pang then that brought tears she managed to hold back. Because she would have to survive someday. Even Lorraine, as long-lived as she was, wouldn’t see more than a hundred and twenty or thirty years. She would die and Genevieve’s heart, the part that belonged to this beautiful woman who held Genevieve’s life together so well, this witch who’d mothered her even as her own never had, would break. There were many cracks in her heart where she’d borne the loss of others of Lorraine’s line who’d been with her over the centuries. She would survive because that was what she did. And it was better to have loved the people who passed from this world over and over through her long lifetime, than to turn remote and cold, treating those who served in her household as if they were just the jobs they did.

  Lorraine, and before her Serah, and before her there was Britta, Helene, and Margaux, who’d been the first.

  “Pardon,” she said breaking the embrace, “I was woolgathering.”

  “Now you can sit down and finish eating. I did not make it for you to waste.” Lorraine narrowed her eyes and pointed, but the shine there was of affection and concern.

  Darius grinned at her for one moment.

  “Magnifique,” she whispered as his grin transformed his face. Another side of him. Easier. Open. This man she could see at her side at night as well as the day. She could tell her secrets to this man. It set her heart pounding before she could blow out a breath and get herself under control once more.

  “Now whose head is getting turned?” he teased.

  She made a face at him before turning back to her plate. Lorraine’s wooden spoon was nearby and she was quite fast with it when she was displeased.

  “You were accosted by someone other than Tristan at the Senate?” Darius asked and Lorraine’s attention homed in on the words.

  She told them both an abbreviated version of that bizarre scene with Hugo Procella.

  Darius grunted. “Can I throw a knife in his eye at least?”

  Her phone rang. At that time of night it was most likely bad.

  Samaya said, “Are you with Rowan right now?”

  “No. Why?” Worry had her shooting to her feet.

  “Just open your email and call me back when you’re done reading what I sent you. No one is in immediate danger.” Samaya disconnected and Genevieve looked to Darius, who’d gone very still.

  Waiting to do whatever it was she needed.

  “That sounds ominous,” Genevieve said as she opened the attachment Samaya had forwarded. She read it twice and called Samaya back.

  Chapter Ten

  Clive had been about to simply ask David what was going on when his phone signaled an incoming document. As he read it his spine straightened, his focus getting tighter and tighter as he finished the attached note from Alice. Bloody fucking hell.

  His very observant wife demanded, “Is everyone going to look at their phone without telling me what the fuck is happening or what?”

  Clive drew a deep breath and quickly glanced to David before he locked onto Rowan once more. “I think perhaps you should read this and then we can discuss. I don’t want to color your perception.”

  “Just fucking great. So bad no one wants to tell me about it? Vampires are assholes,” she muttered as she brought her phone out as it too started to make noise. She snarled and began to read her screen.

  Elisabeth added some more food to Rowan’s plate and after a distracted but genuine thank-you, Rowan continued to read while she ate.

  She was silent so long Clive nearly interrupted.

  Finally, she looked up, put her fork down, and dabbed her mouth with her napkin before setting it aside as well.

  “Did you know about this?” she asked him, deadly calm.

  “No. I only learned of it right here. Alice has friends who forwarded this to her, and she sent this to me and said she was calling to verify with human staff. Rowan, I don’t think Nadir knows either. When we spoke yesterday, she’d have said.” Clive looked at his watch and calculated the time difference. “It’s nearly sunrise at the Keep. Chances are she’s only just found out this was sent. We may not hear from her until sunset there tonight.” Which caused concern because when the sun finally went down at the Keep and Nadir got to work, it would be morning there in Las Vegas. He’d be at daytime rest and unable to intervene if necessary.

  Rowan asked in a flat voice, “Is Theo in on this?”

  Clive very carefully answered. “As I’ve said, I had no idea this was going to happen and given all I know I don’t believe this is an official Nation response. Which means Nadir doesn’t know. If she doesn’t, he most certainly won’t.” He paused. “The First has taken a hands-off approach with these Vampires. For reasons I’m sure make a great deal of sense to him, but I cannot possibly intuit.” It had been, Clive believed, a way for the First to keep Rowan’s attention. Play a game with her. Not malicious, but careless. So careless it was cruel. She would feel manipulated. Controlled. And deep down in places she told herself and everyone else had healed, she was bleeding that he hadn’t just chosen her.