"Oh," Evelyn said, pouting and disappointed.
"But there is a way," Damali said, her voice cooing.
Evelyn perked up, her eyes searching Damali's. "Please, tell me."
"I want him to live through this hunt so he can show you," Damali said, her voice dropping to a seductive purr. "Only when he siphons me is he at his best. Unfortunately it drives us female vamps crazy - makes us want to fight. However, I could let him gorge and then send him to your room."
A sheen of perspiration dampened Evelyn's brow. "You would do that?"
"Or, I could stay and the three of us - "
"Please," Evelyn whispered, closing her eyes. "The hunt will be hours from now and the anticipation is already killing me."
"I just wanted you to know that I am truly sorry if I upset you earlier." Damali sat back and waited.
"It does make you want to rip out the female's throat," Evelyn admitted, finally opening her eyes to only half-mast. "But the residual effect is a wonderful high. There's nothing like pure adrenaline."
"Uhmmm-hmmm," Damali said, toying with the table linen.
"And when it hits the master's systems, they bulk to mortal-combat proportions, and will fight you on the way down. But the adrenaline hit that you both get on the double-plunge..."
Evelyn let out a slow, erotic hiss. "Say no more, please. Just tell me when."
"Perhaps after the concert." Damali held Evelyn's gaze. She needed an ally in the castle, and needed to be sure that at least one vamp couple would guarantee their safety through the blood sport going down tonight. Damali chose her words with care. "However, I'm concerned the other ladies might not understand... and Carlos and I rarely discuss such intimate details unless there's been a bond."
"The other ladies will not present a problem," Evelyn said, and reached out to caress Damali's face.
Okay, seal this shit like Carlos showed you, sister. Damali caught Evelyn's wrist and held it hard, then turned into it and planted a long kiss in the center of Evelyn's palm. "Ensure no ambush, and after I'm done with Harold, Carlos and I will come see you."
Evelyn shuddered hard. "I'll tear those bitches' eyes out if they offend my most honored guest."
Damali gave her an air kiss. "Thank you, darling. I'm so glad we had this little talk."
"The girls seem to be gettin' on," McGuire said, glancing over his shoulder.
"Yeah," Carlos said, a little anxious about what he'd just witnessed. Damali was awfully close up on Evelyn, and had taken the woman's wrist. Had Damali turned back, or what? And why did he have to find that shit so sexy?
Suddenly the sound of the choppers could be heard in the distance.
"Incoming," McGuire announced, his expression excited. "Let the games begin."
Chapter Sixteen
Damali didn't say a word as she stood by Carlos's side on the top step of the castle's grand entryway, Harold and Evelyn three steps below them, watching the entourages dismount from the choppers. It was a spectacular sight as they watched each master inspect the staff lines, not trusting the skills of the master that had walked the line before him. Paranoia was thick in the air. She was just beginning to understand the whole twisted culture of the vamp empire.
Everything meant something. Every conversation was about power shifts, even play was about the acquisition thereof, or to show prowess and ward off an attack. The way they ate, they way they spoke, the way they made and betrayed alliances, the way they had sex - made love was too nice a phrase, this shit was carnal. Primal, beneath the polished exterior.
One by one, she sized up the targets. The first to arrive had been the Chinese ambassador. He was slim, muscular, of moderate height, and wore a very understated navy blue suit, white shirt, silk tie, and dark shades and a large insignia ring on his left hand where a wedding band might have been. He looked like he had been in his late thirties when he had turned, and he carried himself like the King of Siam. His gaze was mildly haughty but civil. His wife, however, was over the top. Damali had to give it to this female. She was all that.
Wrapped in a raw silk red sari trimmed in gold, she had a body like she could dance the seven veils and start a war. She had large, dark brown eyes set in her perfectly proportioned, beautiful face. Her jet-black hair hung in a long straight wash of silky onyx down her back all the way to her behind. Her skin looked like it had a faint hint of bronze beneath, and her cultured voice had an opalescent quality to it that practically shimmered as she spoke. She nodded before she bowed, her eyes seeming to hold a lethal secret. But her aloof air was like that of a pampered, arrogant, pedigreed cat梑ored, but watching everything. Damali could feel that she was old... real old. Okay, didn't want to sit next to that one in the chopper.
But when the Transylvanian couple appeared, Damali squeezed Carlos's arm. His carriage screamed old power and entitlement. Looking down his nose with a scowl, his dark gray eyes narrowed as he whipped off his shades, his military formal cutaway tux not showing one crease. His chest was affixed with medallions and crests that boasted a long lineage. He walked with broad shoulders back as he strode down the lines with an air of superiority.
His auburn hair was swept back from his forehead in waves that reached his shoulders and as he walked he shook his hair back, his Romanesque features making him look like a cross between Czar Nicolas and Timothy Dalton. His stride proclaimed him a thoroughbred, and the power that exuded from him almost broke the staff lines as he passed each one, said, "That will do," and moved on.
Then came his mate, perhaps. Damali wasn't sure if she was his first wife, or just a lair kitten he'd brought along. She was the most genteel-looking, fragile creature she'd ever seen. Her blond hair shone in the moonlight as she stepped beside him, her eyes were blue ice, her skin as white as porcelain, and her clothes simple elegance. Just a sheath of crŠme, a whisper in the night, that made her seem more like a ghost than a vampire.
When the African master exited his helicopter, Damali almost turned around and walked back into the castle. The master looked to be maybe forty-five, tall, blue-black handsome, six foot seven if an inch. She could feel Carlos bristle as she studied the chiseled features of the master's hard-set jaw, but his profile nearly made Damali's breath catch. Have mercy.