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  “He shouldn’t have touched you.”

  “Posers don’t know the rules.” Brett grabbed the men’s glasses by their stems, then met Harry’s gaze. “And that trinket you gave her might soothe your conscience, but that’s all it’s good for. It didn’t stop them”—he jerked his head toward the now empty table—“and it won’t stop—”

  Harry moved into his space. “Do you have an issue with my choices? Something we need to discuss?”

  A vein in Brett’s neck jumped. He breathed out through his nose, a low angry noise like a bull about to charge.

  “Harry? Rodrigue is asking about you.” Emilie sidled up next to Harry and slipped her arm through his.

  His focus still on the bartender, Harry didn’t even glance at her. “Brett?”

  The tension was thick and cloying, made it hard for Lindsey to breathe. She wanted to step out of her heels and run. But where? She had nowhere to go.

  “No. Nothing to discuss, at least with me. Sounds like Rodrigue may feel differently, though.” Brett strode from the space, brushing against Lindsey as he went. She glanced at him, expecting some acknowledgement or sign of support, but his eyes were locked on the bar, and he moved past as if he’d forgotten she existed.

  Stepping forward, Harry held his hand out to Lindsey. “It appears the die is cast.”

  “Or the blood is set.” From behind him, Emilie smiled.

  “Emilie, it is time for you to go.”

  “But Lindsey doesn’t want me to go, do you?” The woman sauntered past Harry to stand at Lindsey’s side.

  Lindsey stared at her, not really wanting her companionship but also not sure she wanted to go with Harry alone.

  “You can see her tomorrow.”

  Placing a hand on her hip, Emilie turned. “Promise?”

  Harry’s gaze barely flickered. “Leave.”

  “Fine, but I want a full report.” One dainty heel lifted behind her, she pirouetted back to face Lindsey. “Promise?”

  Sensing if she didn’t agree, the woman wouldn’t, despite Harry’s obvious ire, leave, Lindsey agreed. “Promise.” She knew no one else in the city, and perhaps Emilie could help her find Karin.

  As Emilie sashayed past the gorilla of a bouncer, Harry again held out his hand.

  This time she slipped her fingers into his.

  “There’s someone you need to meet.”

  “Someone who knows Karin?” Lindsey let Harry lead her forward.

  “Perhaps better than anyone,” Harry murmured.

  “Oh.” Excitement caused Lindsey to hurry her steps. Her conversation with Brett had been disappointing, and the other waitresses hadn’t seemed to have any more information for her. Having Harry introduce her to someone who knew her cousin well was an unexpected boon.

  As they walked through the bar, people stepped out of their way or stared over the tops of their martini glasses. One woman leaned sideways to murmur to her date. He shot her a warning glance. She paled in response, her gaze darting to a table at the very back of the bar, a table surrounded by other tables—all empty.

  The royalty Brett had mentioned.

  Lindsey didn’t know what the term meant, but she could see by the bar’s occupants’ reactions that whoever this “royalty” was, he or she was important.

  She smoothed a hand over her hair and wished she’d taken a few moments to check her appearance in a mirror. “How do I look?” she murmured.

  Harry barely glanced at her. “Fine. He won’t be able to take his eyes off of you.” The last was little more than a growl, and then they were in front of the table. Lindsey had no more time to worry or suppose; she was staring into the clear blue eyes of the most exotic and beautiful man she had ever seen.

  He appeared to be around thirty, with long dark hair that he had pulled back in a low ponytail. His cheekbones were high, his skin bronzed, and she knew instantly why he was called royalty. His body exuded power.

  He was wearing a loose-fitting shirt, open at the neck, that on anyone else would have looked ridiculous but on this man seemed natural. At the table with him were two other men and a woman. Lindsey did little more than note their presence. The man eclipsed them all.

  He stared at her for a count of five, his face showing no expression. The others with him, however, sat up as if their chairs had suddenly become electrified.

  Harry took a step forward, pulling Lindsey against his side as he did. His arm slipped around her waist, and she could feel each of his fingers pressing into her flesh. She could also feel the tension thrumming through him.

  She licked her lips and waited for someone else to speak.

  “Mon oiseau.”

  The words were no more than a whisper.

  Harry’s fingers dug deeper into Lindsey’s side. “Rodrigue, this is Lindsey. She came to St. Louis looking for her cousin, Karin.” His voice deepened on Karin’s name.

  The man, Rodrigue, lifted one brow. “Karin?”

  His voice was thick with an accent Lindsey couldn’t place, French, she guessed, but not quite. With his dark skin, he didn’t look French. Creole, perhaps. Except that didn’t seem right either.

  “Karin is Lindsey’s cousin. She came here hoping to establish a connection.”

  “Ah.” Rodrigue lifted his chin. Then motioned for the men and the woman who still sat with him to leave. With no question or sign of resentment, they did, moving perhaps ten feet away, still in sight but out of the range of hearing.

  “Sit.” Rodrigue stared into Lindsey’s eyes, leaving no doubt he was speaking to her, but Harry’s hold on her hadn’t loosened.

  Rodrigue shifted his gaze to Harry. “Both of you, of course.”

  Harry tilted his head in acceptance and lead Lindsey to the table. After helping her into her chair, he seated himself, moving his chair so it was almost flush against hers.

  Again, Lindsey waited for one of the men to start the conversation, but again they both seemed content to sit in silence, Rodrigue watching her and Harry watching Rodrigue.

  Unable to bear the uncomfortable quiet any longer, Lindsey spoke. “Harry said you know my cousin, perhaps better than anyone.”

  “Did he?” Rodrigue’s gaze flitted to Harry before settling back on Lindsey.

  “Is she…” Lindsey fidgeted in her seat. “Do you know where she’s gone?”

  “Your cousin never goes far.”

  “So she’s done this before? Left?”

  Rodrigue laughed but without humor. “Ah yes, mon oiseau has developed a talent for disappearing. Is that not so, Harry?” His eyes darkened; the mood of the room darkened.

  “To disappear, someone has to appear, at least for a while.”

  “True, and mon oiseau has not appeared, as you say, in quite some time.”

  Confused, Lindsey placed her hands on the table and leaned forward. The cross Harry had given her fell out of her shirt and onto the tabletop. It made only a tiny clink, but Rodrigue stilled. Then he smiled.

  “A gift, cousin of mon oiseau? From perhaps the generous Harry?”

  Lindsey clasped the cross in her fist. “Yes, from Harry.” She wanted to ask why he’d said Karin had not appeared for some time when she had just left Harry’s bar a week prior, but it seemed rude to interrupt him. No, more than rude, unthinkable.

  “If I may?” Rodrigue held out his hand. His fingers were long and smooth, elegant. Without questioning, Lindsey leaned forward and let him take the cross between his fingers.

  Beside her, Harry stiffened. Behind her, bar guests murmured. The bar was still watching and now, it appeared, commenting on her exchange.

  He flipped the tiny charm over. “Protegees et venger.” With the cross still lying against the pad of his finger, he looked up into her eyes. “So the dhamphir has promised to protect you? But there is another promise here. What of it? Be aware, one may outweigh the other, and you, cousin of mon oiseau, may get caught between the two.”

  He dropped the pendant so the cross fell against Lindsey’s ches
t. He stood, sending his chair flying backward. In response, his three companions left their own seats and seemed to glide forward until they formed a kind of wall around him.

  Startled by his abrupt dismissal, Lindsey tried to stand too, but Harry had already moved. He stood behind her now, his hands on her shoulders keeping her in place.

  Rodrigue and his companions moved through the bar quiet, confident, and completely in control.

  Once they had left, Harry released his hold.

  Lindsey faced him. “What did he mean?”

  “About what?” Harry’s gaze moved to the front of the bar, where the bouncer still stood, blocking anyone from entering. He held up his hand. The bouncer nodded, and four more groups cleared the doorway.

  He looked back at Lindsey. “I believe you’re ready to take on more tables now. Talk to Brett. He’ll make your assignments.”

  “But—” Her discussion with Rodrigue hadn’t answered any of her questions. In fact it had raised many new ones. Like why he called Karin by what was obviously a pet name. Why he said her cousin hadn’t appeared in quite some time when Lindsey had received an email from her just a week ago. And why he’d thought Harry meant to protect Lindsey. From what?

  So many questions and Harry was already walking away.

  “Harry?” she called after him.

  He stopped mid-stride. When he turned back, there was a question in his eyes, but something else was there too. A wariness? Lindsey frowned, thrown by what that might mean.

  “Yes?” he prompted.

  “A dhamphir. What is it?” It wasn’t what she had meant to ask. It wasn’t even a question she had considered asking, but somehow it was what made its way past her lips.

  Harry smiled, but his eyes were cold and dead. “A half-breed, a mongrel. But then Rodrigue is too, just in a very different way.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking very tired. “He meant no insult. It’s just a fact. One I cannot escape.”

  Before she could apologize or ask anything more, he’d walked away, across the bar and into his office.

  Feeling strangely hollow, she went to find Brett.

  o0o

  Harry lowered his body into his office chair. Lindsey knew what he was now. Would she look it up? If she did, would she believe what she read?

  Did he care? If she learned the truth, that he was a dhamphir, born of a human mother and a vampire father, he would be forced to tell her her own family’s truth.

  Then what would she do? Run? To where?

  Rodrigue had seen Lindsey. Randall, one of Marie Jean’s followers, had seen her too.

  There was no going back now. If Lindsey wanted to survive May Day, she would have to trust Harry.

  And she had to wear the cross. Not to ward off vampires—the tiny adornment would work only on the most freshly turned—but to call Harry to her side if she was in danger.

  He pinched the matching cross that dangled from his wrist between two fingers. He had taken as many precautions as he could. Now he would just have to wait and see if Marie Jean came to the bait.

  Chapter Four

  Marie Jean

  Laclede’s Village, Illinois Country

  November 15, 1792

  Rodrigue met Marie Jean at the door. “Mon oiseau, where have you been?” He was naked from the waist up, making him look every bit the savage warrior.

  “Home.” She patted him on the cheek as she walked by. Fool that he was, he loved her.

  His blue eyes darkened, and his brows lowered.

  “Again? You will have no family left.”

  “And what will that matter? I will have my power.” She dropped her kid gloves onto the walnut table that sat by their door.

  He scowled.

  Realizing she was at risk of pushing him too far, she walked her fingers up his bare chest. His skin was smooth, so unlike the bear of a husband she’d suffered for years.

  “Three in the past six months! I told you—”

  She stepped even closer so her breasts pressed against his chest. “It is still six months until the anniversary of my turn. Can the difference be that much? And after each visit, I feel”—she rolled her head backward, letting her hair, which she had loosened, cascade down her back and baring her neck to him—“powerful.”

  He growled. She could feel desire rumbling through him.

  “What you feel is fleeting. For real power—”

  “I know, the anniversary. May Day is six months away. If I promise to wait until then, will you forgive me?” She cut her eyes to the side, knowing he would.

  He always would.

  “Six months. You will wait? What you are doing…it is too dangerous. Your family will grow suspicious, bring in—”

  “Who? A hunter?” She laughed. “You have said yourself none exist.”

  “Here. But this country is young. Hunters will come or be born. It will happen.”

  “And we will be ready. We will be strong.”

  “Only if you pace yourself. Kill off all of your family, spend them like beads rather than pearls, and you will be left with nothing, no well to draw on.”

  She sighed, ran her hands up around his neck and dug her fingers into his hair. “I will wait. I will pace myself. My sisters and their daughters will continue to have babies, like the subservient bitches they are, and I will continue to take them from their husbands, continue to grow strong on their blood.”

  “Un.” He held up one bronze finger. “Un per year.”

  “Of course.” She rose on her toes and scraped her fangs over his skin. “But what will I do in between? How will I feed my hunger?”

  His arm tightened around her back. His hands moved lower to cup her buttocks through her skirt. “Ah, mon oiseau, I can most certainly help you with that.”

  He lowered his mouth to her neck and pierced her skin with his fangs. She nestled against him, let him take her blood.

  Pain and power. Rodrigue knew when to use each. Her breasts tightened, and she squirmed, knowing she wouldn’t be able to resist him much longer.

  She would give in tonight. There was no question of that.

  But soon, Rodrigue, all men, would be forced to her will, her desires. She would be the one with the power.

  o0o

  The next morning, Lindsey realized she had no food or coffee in her kitchen, and she had forgotten to ask Harry where he had moved her vehicle, which left her stranded.

  Luckily, there was the café right below her. She wandered down the building’s wide staircase and out into a rainy spring day. Her head bowed, she hurried into the café. She was carrying her coffee and croissant to one of the inside tables when she saw Harry.

  She stopped, unsure how to approach him.

  After Rodrigue had left, Harry had disappeared too. She hadn’t seen him until her shift was over. Then he had waited as she counted her tips and walked with her to the apartment building’s front door. She’d thought he might come in, but he’d only waited for her to go inside and then left.

  He hadn’t said two words to her the entire time, not even a response to her own muttered “goodbye.”

  This morning, however, he didn’t wait for her to acknowledge him. He motioned her to a table; then, a few minutes later, he joined her, his own cup of steaming coffee in his hand.

  “You’re an early riser,” he commented after sitting down.

  It was after ten, not in Lindsey’s mind all that early, but Harry had still been at the packed bar when she’d left at two.

  “I’m afraid I have bad news.”

  She looked up, startled and immediately worried.

  He smiled. “Not that bad, I hope. It’s your car. When it was moved last night, I’m afraid it died. I had it towed to a shop a few miles away. The mechanic called a little while ago and said it didn’t look good.”

  The news was far from surprising. Lindsey had been praying her entire trip from New Orleans that the fifteen-year-old vehicle would get her to St. Louis. Its demise was, however, a major inco
nvenience and made her more grateful than ever that Harry had offered her both the job and the apartment.

  “He’s looking for parts. He said it might be a week or more before he finds anything, and even then you might be better off replacing it.”

  If she had the money, which she didn’t, but she didn’t want to admit that to Harry. Trying not to look concerned, she wrapped her hands around her cup and nodded.

  Apparently buying her act, Harry tested the temperature of his coffee with the pad of his index finger. The cross on his wrist tapped against the heavy ironstone mug.

  The sound reminded her what else he had done for her. She reached for the matching charm that hung around her neck. The cross felt warm against her skin, comforting.

  “I don’t think I thanked you for this,” she murmured, dropping her gaze to her coffee. She wanted to ask him why he’d given it to her, but the question seemed rude. So she just clasped the charm tighter.

  “You seemed like you needed it,” he replied.

  “Needed it?” She believed in God, she supposed, but she had never attended a church regularly.

  “Yes.” He caught the cross attached to his wrist between two fingers. “I’m not religious, but someone who meant a great deal to me gave me this. Wearing it keeps me on course.”

  “Oh. Then I really shouldn’t keep—” She reached up to remove the necklace.

  “No.” His eyes flashed. “I want you to have it. I want you to wear it.”

  Surprised at how sudden and intense his reaction had been, she lowered her arms.

  He laughed. “Sorry. I know that may seem odd, but it’s part of the promise I made to this person.”

  “That you would give someone else a cross too?” It seemed like a strange promise.

  “If I thought they needed it.” His gaze held hers. “You do, don’t you?”

  And strangely she knew then that she did. She couldn’t say why, but the cross made her feel safe, something she had never felt before.

  “So you’ll keep it and wear it?”

  She could tell it was important to him that she say yes, and the idea that he had given her the necklace as part of a promise to someone he loved was so endearing, she couldn’t see why or how she could say no. She nodded.