Last Enchantment

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Oliver found it difficult to believe Tegan had done that for him. Not just feeding him, but opening her heart to him, and her body so completely. She had spent thirty-four years fighting against the urges most humans found only too natural only to lose her virginity in such a terrible way. Then to give herself so generously without stint… It staggered him.

He didn’t deserve it, that went without saying, but he would do his best to honor her trust and her gift. For her to feed him, to show him she trusted him, made him feel stronger, almost invincible. A dangerous emotion, but at least he didn’t wholly believe it. Only when she looked at him, her dark eyes soft with love.

She looked untouchable. Dressing for dinner in a hurry didn’t seem to have affected her ability to present the cool, classical part of her. She wore a dark blue dress, the color of midnight, slim fitting, raw silk, with a wide neckline that showed her wonderful shoulders off perfectly and not too much of her cleavage, about which he was feeling somewhat possessive. And she’d accepted his gift, a string of pearls that had belonged to his mother, beautifully matched. Even had a pair of earrings to go with them. The dress had tiny sleeves, delicate, inviting him to push them a little further up so he could kiss the hidden flesh there, but when he’d tried, she’d brushed him off and told him he hadn’t given her nearly enough time. But she’d said it with a smile on her face.

Gratified to see he hadn’t marked her skin, he wondered if it wouldn’t have been easier just to leave the evidence of his feeding for a few hours, to let it speak for itself. He’d struggled through dinner, although he dared anyone except Tegan to see that. They’d eaten in the south dining room, the one they’d used as a breakfast room in the old days when they’d set store by having more than one dining room. These days the state dining room was mostly laid for a Victorian dinner and left that way for the delectation of the tourists and this one they used for formal dinners.

He wanted to retreat upstairs to the bedroom or to his private apartment, but since nobody could reach him there easily, he’d elected to stay downstairs while his guests were here. Some of them weren’t too happy at being allotted rooms in the new hotel extension to the stable block, but extending the guests from ten to twenty, with partners, meant there wasn’t enough room in the main house. He ran this place tightly. He had to. It cost a fortune to run. Even with his money, it would have drained him dry had he not put every inch to use.

But he’d balked at installing lions in the Great Park. That was one paw too far.

He’d kept up civilized conversation, gently reminding anyone who wanted to take advantage of sitting close to him that they never talked business over dinner here. A lie, and some here knew it, but they kept quiet. He couldn’t say anything or promise anything without setting up false hopes and promises. He couldn’t eat, either, but unlike his usual habit when sitting down to dinner after dark, he didn’t put the gentle persuasion in people’s minds that he was eating, that he’d eaten as much as they did. A shame he couldn’t eat, because the meal had looked and smelled good, but he knew from experience that it would make him deathly ill to have any of it. He could just about manage a sip or two of water these days.

Until at last the beef Wellington was consumed, the lemon sorbet went the way of all lemon sorbets and the domestics he’d hired for the occasion had charged the trumpets with champagne. He couldn’t put it off any longer. People had glanced at him and his empty plate, but made no comment. The British reserve came in useful sometimes. Most of them probably imagined he’d didn’t feel very well. Bile rose in his throat at the thought of what he was about to do.

With one last glance at Tegan, who he sat by his side and not at the foot of the table where custom demanded his hostess sit, he got to his feet, glass in hand. Conversation ceased within a few seconds.

He smiled. “Ladies and gentlemen, I hope the dinner was acceptable.” Murmurs of thanks and compliments followed. “I’ll convey your thanks to the chefs.” He drew breath, let his expression return to a gravity they couldn’t mistake. Inside, his heart was beating double-time. And he glanced at his last-minute guest.

G nodded, lending encouragement. Not many people knew what the head of CAT UK looked like. Unlike his New York equivalent, G kept a low profile, but when Oliver had called him that afternoon with his decision, he’d said that maybe it was time he came out, too. Not that he’d reveal his Talent—few people knew exactly what that was—but that he was a Talent and what his role was in this new world. He’d arrived by helicopter, freshly tuxedoed and ready for dinner, with a bodyguard of his own. Oliver had been glad to see him. He’d glanced from Oliver to Tegan and nodded but hadn’t said anything more than, “I’ll speak to you later.”

Now, now was the time Oliver’s life changed. He wanted to reach out for Tegan, but he couldn’t. He had to show strength to the board, otherwise he might as well give up.

“For the last few years, I’ve practiced a necessary deception. I wanted you to be the first to know. This is the only formal announcement I plan to make, but I daresay the word will slip out over the next week or so. Some of you must have seen that photo of me circulating in the media, the one of me on the back of a dragon. I thought of doing as I had before, saying that it was an elaborate hot air balloon, claiming it wasn’t me, but I know that won’t do anymore. I’ve had too many narrow escapes not to recognize when the game is finally over. Not that it felt much like a game sometimes. The only reason I kept quiet was because of my business. I know at this volatile time the truth might send us into a dangerous cycle.” Saying “downward spiral” would only provoke one; the market sometimes behaved like a headless chicken.

“But speculation could make things worse, so I’ve decided to be straightforwardly honest. You people must make the decision as to what happens next. I will abide by your decision. While I’m a majority shareholder, I can step aside for someone else and act as a titular chairman or even resign from the board completely if you feel that is right. But if you decide that, I will probably sell my shares and move on.” That was his threat, but it was also his defense. He was fucked if he was going to watch bad management drag down what he’d spent many years building. If they couldn’t take it, he’d move on and start again. If he wasn’t in control, he didn’t want to know.

The atmosphere changed. From convivial, if cautious enjoyment, to tense apprehension. “The gentleman here, the one who asked you to call him G is an old friend. A very old friend. He runs CAT UK. You’ve heard of CAT, haven’t you?” He didn’t wait for answers. Those who hadn’t must have been living under buckets for the last year or two. “I’ve known him longer than I’ve known anyone here.” He gave the oldest member of the board a regretful smile. “Even you, George.” He sighed. He couldn’t avoid it any longer. “I’m a vampire.”

The response wasn’t what he’d expected. A few gasps, sure, but not George’s, “Who did it to you? When?” and a glare at Tegan.

At last he could touch her. He put his hand on her shoulder and felt her warmth through the thin fabric. “My companion knows, though she isn’t a vampire herself.”

“So who did it?”

He repeated his regretful smile. “My parents. They were vampires, too.”

“Russell?”

“That was me, George. I was Russell. You’ve heard of the contrivances Talents used to go through to continue their existence without evoking suspicion? I did that. It hurt me to do it to you, but after I mentored you, I let you mentor me. And in many ways, I needed it.”

Enough. He sat down, ready to let them ply him with questions. Stunned by his own shock, at last, to say this. He’d dreamed of it sometimes, of just letting go and saying it. Occasionally he had, but never so public, never with the expectation that people would go and tell other people. Already a few hands had strayed to a few breast pockets, no doubt the holders for mobile phones. So tense, he’d had to rely on the other Talents present to read Marcus and Virginia, to gauge their reaction. It would help with the assignment, because if Marcus showed no surprise, then he was conscious and cognizant of what he’d done to Tegan. And if that was the case, Marcus would die for what he did and fuck the assignment.

At least he had Tegan by his side, but she became the recipient of questions, too. Of course, appearing at this time would cast suspicion on her, but suspicion of what, he didn’t know. That was why he’d told her before, one of the reasons, anyway. He wanted to give her the chance to back out. She could have returned to London, said they’d split when he told her. If she wanted to retain her cover. If she wanted to keep life quiet. Another reason for calling G, to make sure Tegan could bear this kind of pressure. G had assured him that she could, that her therapists had considered her cured. “Although cured is relative,” he’d added dryly. “In my opinion, it’s not something you shake off or forget.”

Oliver hadn’t given his opinion, hadn’t shared that sometimes she cried out in the night, sometimes she flinched away from him. But he just warmed her mind, soothed her, and ignored his own hurt, because he knew she hadn’t meant him.

Marcus stared at him, eyes wide. “You are fucking kidding me,” was his first response, although it showed the measure of his shock, that he used such unguarded language. Marcus liked people to think him the perfect gentleman, and gentlemen didn’t swear. A good sign, as far as Oliver was concerned.

“No, I’m not. I try not to let it affect my life more than it has to.”

“But we—and we—” Marcus swallowed. Oh yes, they had and they had. Shared women, taken pleasure in each other sometimes. He’d get to know if his best friend was thinking betrayal. He entered his mind, slid in to find Tegan there already.

How the fuck had she done that? Oh, duh, G. Knowing Tegan’s gift for analysis, he’d enabled her entry. A pang of jealousy struck him, jealousy he knew was completely unwarranted. He’d been busy, too much to concentrate on one person alone. And she’d let G help her in a way he’d begun to consider his alone. That was stupid, too. Slipping into an outer layer was as personal as shaking hands.

But G and Tegan made a good team. He gave her the power, she moved in and as he slipped deeper into Marcus’s surprisingly well organized mind, she explored it.

Then, at the first twitch of awareness, they withdrew silently and quietly. She came back to him, but G was still there. Nothing unexpected. Shock, and a start at rationalization. And some questions, like how could you have been at school with him?

I’ll have to talk to him. Do you still think he’s suspicious?

G sighed regretfully. I can’t tell. I don’t think so.

The door opened to reveal Virginia, who nodded to Tegan, and she sent a telepathic message. I heard from outside, and I guessed what you’d done. He’ll be okay.

Virginia had opted to remain in her position as security, no doubt for the same reasons Spartan had refused to join them. Being a guest tied her down too much.

Oliver felt Tegan’s warmth toward her sister. She appreciated her support and her strength, as well as the telepathy she sent her, supporting her own lack. These days she’d almost become used to leeching off other people, but she could use her skills to refine and put them to use, so she supposed there was some point to it.

There is a point to this leeching. G almost startled him, his quiet presence almost undetectable. If he wanted, he could slip in and out unnoticed. He was glad he had chosen not to do that but herald his presence. You are still good at analyzing. I could still use you, Tegan, and you would be leeching from no one.

The thought had occurred to her, he knew, but with an organization as highly powered and as packed with Talent as CAT, she had held back asking, because a rejection might have put back her gently burgeoning confidence. He was glad G had thought to mention this but pushed away his fear, an emotion he wasn’t at all used to, refusing to acknowledge or define it. He listened to the exchange, but it wasn’t for him to comment, unless she asked him.

Not many people have your experience in the field. Think about it.

I will, thank you.

You have many opportunities and many friends, Tegan. You helped many people.

But I was cold and unfeeling.

Sometimes that is what is called for. G gave her a tight smile and went deeper, so Oliver lost the contact. He guessed they were saying something about him, and he was determined not to hold her back. If that was the opportunity she wanted, he’d help her to achieve it and smile as she left.

He smiled, sweeping a glance around everyone sat at the table. “It’s usual at the end of dinner to lead the way to the drawing room. But this time let’s break with tradition. I propose we leave the members of the board here to discuss the situation among themselves. I must know your decision soon because the media is on to me and they will out me before the month is over. Don’t let them beat you to it. I intend to make a more formal announcement via an online media group the day after tomorrow at the latest, because if I don’t, they will out me first, and I’d rather be the one who takes the initiative.” He gave George an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I meant to do this gradually or at least wait until the markets have picked up, but as matters stand, I don’t have much choice.”

George merely nodded, his gaze steady but his mouth set in a straight line. “We need to do the best thing for the company.”

“I agree.”

Oliver spread his hands. “Shall we leave the board to their deliberations?”

****

Following his lead, Tegan got to her feet and accepted the support of G’s arm in true formal fashion. She felt like a fraud. Formal etiquette had been part of her education, but she’d rarely had to use it, and she always felt a bit foolish when she used it, as if she had no right. But G behaved like he’d been born to it and led her from the room. She hadn’t known G could be avuncular before, either.

In the drawing room, tea and coffee awaited them with a selection of juices and wines. She chose grape juice, although she was sorely tempted to get sauced. She’d never drunk to the point where it affected her before, as she couldn’t afford to lose control, but she was past caring. Past caring for anything except Oliver and the way he must be hurting. She couldn’t feel it in her mind, but she didn’t need to. She could sense it, almost as if her empathetic sense had returned. Maybe her reading of body language was better than she thought. No, not that. Oliver was a trained agent. He’d do his best to conceal it, especially at a time like this.

She picked up her glass and would have crossed the room to join him but found G in her way. “No,” he said. “Give him a little time to answer people’s questions. He has to be seen standing alone for a while. Let him come to you.”

It seemed hard to Tegan, but she could see the reasoning. And he was barely skimming her mind, so perhaps G was right. But she wanted to show him her support, to go to him. It took all her strength not to.

People surrounded Oliver, and although they were too polite to jabber and yell, their bodies showed all the tension and excitement anyone could want to see. It was a lesson in body language going on in front of her.

“You okay?” G sounded the same as ever, calm and steady.

“I’m fine.” She didn’t want to discuss her predicament. She didn’t have one, other than learning to live without one of her senses.

“Everything going well? You seem to make a good couple.”

The miracle happened again. She blushed, felt the heat under her cheeks. “It’s something I didn’t account for, but it had to happen.” No, she had to be honest. “I asked him.”

At least she’d evoked an emotion in him. G’s eyes widened very slightly. He was astonished. “You did?”

“I did. Otherwise, he’d have behaved like the perfect gentleman and we’d still have separate bedrooms.”

“You little temptress.”

He said it quietly, without inflection, but he let her sense his amusement, and, if she wasn’t mistaken, his warm pleasure. She’d known he worried about her, but she assumed that was because she’d been injured in combat, under his jurisdiction. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“Because you didn’t want to. You didn’t need me to. I admit it, I was horrified when that assignment went wrong. How did something so simple go wrong so fast?”

“It just did.”

Any progress on the current case?

Some. They would know soon enough. This weekend, maybe. “We’ll get there.”

I know. I told you, you make a good team. Go to work, soldier.

She was smiling when she walked away.

She didn’t go far. Only to Marcus, who was standing next to a window, watching the proceedings with a vague smile on his face, which broadened when he saw her. Her heart quickened its beat, but she showed nothing else. “Love the dress,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“I’ve been meaning to get you to myself for a while.”

Damn heart, beating so fast she had to control her breathing. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Oh, come on. You know Derrington’s reputation, surely?”

“Why do you call him Cranfield sometimes?” She asked the question to give herself time to calm down and do her job. Try to talk to him, to see if he admitted anything, let anything slip.

Marcus shrugged. “School. Everyone is known by their surname at school, and he wasn’t Derrington then.” He paused, frowning. “Only he was, wasn’t he? How could he be young, the same as me? How could that happen if he’s a—”

“Even vampires have to be young sometimes.” It wasn’t up to her to tell him. Or to explain.

He turned a startled look on to her. “He told you.”

Interesting. If he was in his right mind when he attacked her, he’d know she knew. He’d know she was a Talent, too. “Just before dinner. But I suspected something different about him. Sometimes, in dim light, his eyes would almost glow. It might have been the light color, I thought, but it wasn’t, was it?”

“And you don’t mind?”

She smiled. “Why should I? He’s the same person.”

He chuckled. “And his perverted passions.” His gaze darkened. “Some of which, I should inform you, I share. Do you?”

What was he asking her here? Oh, God, no.

Her repulsion was so strong, Oliver turned his head, looking for her. He must have picked it up. When he pushed further into her mind, demanding to know, she exerted her control, pushed away her feeling, forced it back into combat mode. No emotions. I’m fine. I just want this to be over.

It will be. Soon. Move away from him if it disturbs you.

He’d never said that to her before, never even hinted that he suspected Marcus, except as another victim. Why? Do you know something?

Nothing. But if being with him concerns you, don’t do it.

I’m fine. I told you, it’s you I’m concerned for.

He said nothing in return, but she felt his reassurance and it helped more than she could say. Enough. Time to get this over with. She wanted to know for sure, so she could develop and progress, not stay stuck with the bad dreams and the trauma.

With new purpose, she turned back to Marcus, determined to follow his lead, see where this would lead. “I don’t know if I do,” she said. “He mentioned it, sure, the things he’d done in the past, but said it was up to me.”

“It is indeed. We don’t want unwilling participants.” That sounded odd, coming from him, especially when he said it with such sincerity.

“How about Virginia?”

His dimples deepened. “She isn’t into sharing. She has other vices. But she has no objection to my taking my pleasure where I want to. She does.”

“Other vices?”

He made a tsking sound between his teeth. “She hasn’t told you? I thought you were close.”

She shook her head. “They separated us when we were young. She had the normal education. Or as normal as it could be, given the circumstances.”

He nodded. “She’s very strong. Sorcerers I can cope with. They’re the same, apart from a little extra. They have the same lifespans, the same vulnerabilities. But vampires—shit, I don’t think I’ve ever been in the same room with one before.”

“Oh, you might have done. They just didn’t tell you.”

He gave a rueful smile. “I suppose so. And I have experience at being different.” His crisp accent interested her. Unlike Oliver’s, it didn’t sound natural. “I was a scholarship boy at the best school in the country. Everybody knew it, too. Positive discrimination, and in any case, it would have come out. They knew it. If Derrington hadn’t befriended me, I’d have been bullied far worse.” He grinned. “As it was, I learned that posh boys didn’t always fight fair. They taught me a few things before Derrington took a hand.” He frowned. “I don’t understand how he did that.”

“Neither do I,” she said, honestly. Such vivid memories were hard to create. “You’ll have to ask him.”

“I’ve always considered him my best friend.” He paused, frowning. “How much of what I remember actually happened? How much is real?”

“All of it.” Oliver slipped an arm around her waist. “How about we go to the library for a nightcap, let them gossip about me for a while? You game?”

Marcus agreed with a sharp nod. “May I ask Virginia to join us?”

“Of course.”

The library was on the same floor, and not the elaborate, leather-book-lined one she’d seen on the tour. This one looked as if someone actually used it, some of the books on the shelves modern, showing signs of use with buffed edges and the occasional torn dust jacket. A computer sat under one of the tables, the screen, keyboard, and mouse resting on its surface. They’d collected Virginia on the way. She’d been standing in the hallway, legs apart, hands behind her back in that stance that indicated security more than any other. Her dark suit was the similar to the ones her male counterparts wore, and without the long hair tied back and the slight build, she looked much the same.

Oliver poured them a drink each, pressing a tumbler of amber liquid into Tegan’s hand. Very good single malt whisky, she decided after taking a sniff. She rarely used alcohol on duty, but she was glad of it. It might help her to slow her racing heart and calm. Some of what Marcus had said helped, although it puzzled her. They weren’t the words of a man who had brutally raped someone, and she hadn’t seen any signs of deception in him. Either he hadn’t done it, or he’d been as in thrall as she was. There was only one way to find out. One way she could exorcise this horrible dilemma.

“Are you not drinking?” Marcus said when he noticed the two glasses after Virginia rejected hers.

Oliver shrugged. “Not after nightfall.”

An awkward pause followed.

Marcus sipped his drink but kept his attention on Oliver, like a rabbit watching a snake. “So what happened at dinner?”

“You heard?” she murmured to her sister.

Virginia put her hand over Tegan’s. “Yes. It’s all over the house. By morning, it’ll be all over the papers and the ’Net. Do you mind?”

Tegan shook her head. “He told me before dinner.” Well, he did, but not that, exactly. “I suspected something. No, I don’t mind, of course not.”

“I don’t know how you cope.” Virginia frowned at her. “You can come away with me tonight if you want to.”

“You’re going away?”

“Only for a day or two. Another assignment. I’m leaving my guys in place.” She smiled at Marcus, and he smiled back, his expression warm and open. He really was handsome, and her sister wouldn’t have kept a secret like that from her. Except that…

“He said you have your preferences,” she said.

Virginia flushed. “Ah, yes. I do. They involve stiletto heels.”

That didn’t sound too bad.

“And nothing else. It’s a bit—but he likes it, too.”

She felt Virginia in her mind and asked her next question privately. And are you into sharing?

No. But he is. I don’t mind. Whatever floats your boat, and he floats mine. I’ve never been the jealous type.

That was right, she wasn’t. In the schools they’d both attended, one of the disciplines was to sleep in an old-style dormitory, sharing with other sorcerer children. It ensured the defenses stayed in place while they were sleeping. But it did lead to a more communal point of view.

Strange that when she thought of sharing Oliver, she saw red. No way, no how. Very strange. Her upbringing had taught her not to feel emotions so strongly, not to let them take hold, but they were sure taking hold.

Oliver stared at her glass, so she dumped it on a coaster on a nearby table. A measure of his state of mind tonight. More than ever she was glad she’d fed him, sustained him for this ordeal he was obviously not enjoying.

“So,” Marcus said, putting his glass down. “School. How could you fool me that way?”

Oliver sighed. “I didn’t set out to fool you, not in the way you mean. We live longer than you do, so we had to pass unnoticed. We either invented characters that didn’t exist or moved to a new life somewhere else. The boy who supported you in the early years wasn’t me. He died of scarlet fever. I removed that memory from you and substituted myself. I came to the school for the final two years for a reason. I took his place, and the records were altered to ensure they recorded me, not my cousin. I knew the boy who died of scarlet fever, you see. He was like me, the child of vampires, but he never grew to maturity. Someone got to him first. I went to that school to catch whoever did it. And while I was there, I went as a younger version of myself. And yes, I discovered who killed him.”

Oliver snorted. “Scarlet fever, my ass. Someone discovered what he was and killed him. It doesn’t have to be a stake, but in this case it was. During the daytime, when he was mortal, not vampire. He’d only been full vampire for three years.” He turned away and poured another drink. His hand wasn’t quite steady. “I brought the murderer to justice.”

A case. He’d met Marcus while he was working a case for CAT.

The silence grew so thick she could hardly bear it, but she didn’t want to be the first person to break it. She daren’t. But she crossed the room to Oliver’s side and touched his arm. He turned his head and smiled at her, so sweetly she caught her breath. “I’m glad you caught whoever did that.”

“I just merged the memories.” He glanced at Marcus. “I could have planted false memories in your mind if I’d wanted to, and Talents used to do that, but they wouldn’t have been so detailed. You’d have just remembered me, but not had much to do with me. After that, I decided to play the game forward and let my previous identity die.”

“It’s complicated, isn’t it?” she said.

He gave a half smile. “You bet. So we, that is Talents, decided to end it. Now people know what I am. I won’t have to do that anymore.” He took her hand, and she squeezed it.

A small beep heralded Virginia’s phone ringing. She took it out and glanced at the text. “I’m sorry, someone is going off duty. I have to debrief him. Then I’ll go to bed.”

“Sounds interesting.” Marcus’s weak joke broke some of the tension in the room, and Oliver reached for his glass so he could refill it.

Virginia left the room on a “Have fun, kids.”

Would they? Yes, she decided with sudden, fierce determination. They wouldn’t leave this room until they knew for sure how Marcus had been involved and why.

Half an hour later she’d had another glass of whisky and felt lightly buzzed, enough to do what she needed to. She was sitting next to Oliver on the wide leather couch, and she nudged him playfully. “So Marcus says he likes to share.”

“And watch,” Marcus put in with a lascivious wink. “Knowing you’re a vampire makes it even more exciting. You know my tastes, pal.” He’d lost the edge of the crisp accent that irritated Tegan from time to time and sounded more normal, less formal.

Oliver raised his glass. “But I’m not sure Tegan enjoys it.” I should take you to bed, forget this. What do you have in mind?

I want him to see the brand. I want to register his reaction. He won’t be able to hide it, if he did it, if he’s seen it before. Then we move in. How deep can you go?

He’s an old friend. I can do it. But I don’t want you to.

She pushed every trace of fear and doubt out of her mind. I can do this. I want to. Nudity means less to us Talents, doesn’t it?

Jesus, fuck, I can’t let you do it. You’ve only just—

Lost my virginity? Had it taken from me. Let me do this, Oliver. It’s my mission. She didn’t just mean the assignment, either. Her mission to herself. But no, she wouldn’t let this bother her as much as it could. And by the time they left this room, they’d know.

She glanced around and rose from the sofa, bending to lavish an extravagant kiss on Oliver’s lips. He responded but spoke into her mind. The minute you say stop, that’s what we do. I’m only doing this because you need it.

Shocked, she opened her eyes and stared at him, close up, the kiss stilled. He’d penetrated that deep?

He had. The knowledge was in his eyes, in his mind.

For you, sweetheart. Nobody else. But don’t ask me to share you. He can watch, he can even see the mark, he can strip if he wants, but no, I won’t share you.

How do you expect to stop him?

Damned if I know, but I will.

She wasn’t sure, either. This might destroy what they had if she went too far, let Marcus fuck her. The thought made her shudder, but she’d do it if she had to. Anything to get her memories of that night clear, to know for sure what happened. If she was accusing an innocent man, then she wanted to know. Oh, he did it for sure, but if he was under compulsion or as drugged as she was, someone else was responsible. The more she thought about it, the more it looked like a setup, like someone wanted her to recognize him. And one way was to see him naked, to see if it was the same as her startling vision.

I want to see him naked. I want to see his body. He had a few scars, none of them startling, but close up they were noticeable and formed a pattern she imagined was unique. If someone had compelled her to see his face but imposed on someone else, she wanted to know.

She wanted to be free.

Sexy, she had to be sexy. Inviting. She shimmied over to the door and made sure it was locked. Then she crossed the room, knowing she had the attention of the men, and locked the other door. Then she dropped the key down her cleavage. “Anyone want to see that again, they’ll have to come to me.”

Marcus swallowed, and she bestowed a lingering smile on him.

Taking her time, she returned to the leather sofa and sat, the creaking of the leather loud in the silence of the room. She smiled at Oliver. “You need this, don’t you? Poor baby, you’ve had a terrible night. How about taking a bite?”

Marcus groaned. “Fuck, that sounds sexy.”

“Why don’t you get comfortable?” Lowering her eyelids, she gave him what she hoped was a sultry gleam. “Take off your tie.”

Without taking his avid gaze from hers, Marcus stripped off his bow tie and tossed it aside. Then he started on the buttons of his shirt but paused after the first two. “Your turn.”

To her shock and surprise, something else rose unexpectedly in her. Arousal. How could that be?

Oliver’s voice came softly into her mind. We still have to explore some aspects of your sexuality. Go with it, darling. Let your senses guide you.

Oh, wow, she’d never expected this. An ordeal, yes, not the fulfillment of some sexy dream she’d never imagined she’d have. So inappropriate.

Reaching under her arm, she found the tab of the hidden zipper and slowly tugged it down.

Marcus groaned. He quickly finished undoing his buttons and then sat, the fabric pushed open but not removed. “Now you.” He glanced at Oliver. “And you.”

Grinning, Oliver threw his jacket off and made short work of his tie and shirt. Unlike Marcus, he took the garment off completely and dropped it on the floor between them, like a gauntlet thrown down as a challenge. “You’re getting behind.”

He wanted Marcus to reveal his body for her. If he did it first, she wouldn’t have to expose much more of herself. But she wanted to. God help her, she wanted to, and her body’s response appalled her. Her juices were flowing, the thought of stripping for two men turning her on. Perverse, she had to be perverse. How could this be right? How could this man do it to her? But it wasn’t the thought of Marcus seeing her that did it. It was stripping for Oliver.

She swayed as if to a sultry tune. She caught the strains of one in her head, one she’d heard on the radio but didn’t know the name of or even the words. But the tune had embedded itself in her head. Keeping her gaze on her lover, imagining they were the only people in the room, she watched him, watched his lips flush with desire and his eyes darken as he watched.

Taking the hem of her dress in both hands, she tugged it over her head and let it fall next to his shirt. Marcus’s groan told her he was watching, as did his murmur of “Beautiful,” but she ignored him, did this for Oliver. He loved it. Did he love it when she did it in front of others? She’d have to ask him. Perhaps, perhaps another time—

She imagined a dark club with many tables, the places around them filled with people all watching her, their avid stares taking in every part of her, all her secret places. They wanted to see her; they’d paid to do it. Swaying to the music in her head, Tegan turned around, unclipped her bra. She’d chosen a dark blue satin bra to match her dress tonight, and she had on matching panties. No longer restricted to plain cotton in black, white, or nude, she had pretty sets, underwired and teasing.

“Now I know what you see in her,” Marcus said. “And I can’t wait for my turn.”

She had him, she was sure. But she couldn’t look. Pretended he was just another customer. Soon she’d be naked, she’d walk among the audience and let them touch, but she’d drift past, so they could only get a brief touch of her. Until she’d decided on the one that she wanted, the lucky one she’d take back onstage to fuck her while everybody watched.

A gush of liquid dampened her panties, and she turned back, cupping her breasts, still swaying provocatively. “Like me?” she asked Oliver.

“Oh, fuck, yes.”

She hadn’t realized both men had stripped. Her attention went to their cocks, hard and shiny with desire. “Delicious,” she murmured, taking her time, then putting her thumbs in the sides of her panties, deciding to tease before she showed the rest of her body.

Then she came to with a jerk. What the fuck was she thinking? Marcus was naked. No need to go any further. She could see all she needed to. At the end of each sofa was a side table, and on them rested large table lamps. They were lit, flooding the men with enough light for her to see what she had to.

And it was him. Not that face imposed on someone else’s body, not mistaken identity.

Desire left her, panic shooting through her in its place. And recognition, such that she couldn’t hide. For a moment out of time, she stood, staring at the tell-tale small scar on his shoulder.

She turned, displaying the brand on the side of her breast. “Recognize this?”

It wasn’t just shock she saw in his face then, but torture. Sheer bloody torture. He was suffering as much as she was. He knew, and he’d done nothing about it, nothing to bring whoever had done this to justice. And she saw something else she’d never expected to see in Marcus. Fangs. Gleaming in the light from the lamps, fully extended. Vampire fangs.

Oliver had left the whisky bottle on the side table, next to his glass, but when she’d started to strip, Marcus had put his tumbler down and not touched it again. As Oliver rose from his seat, Marcus turned around, grabbed the bottle, and swung it at Oliver in one smooth, preternaturally fast move.

Oliver fell to the ground among all the broken glass, bleeding from small cuts and larger ones, taken unaware by Marcus’s fast action. He didn’t move. Marcus had moved faster than they expected. How could he be this? How could he have kept it from someone like Oliver? Why hadn’t he recognized one of his own? Why hadn’t Virginia?

The door. Virginia, she needed to alert her sister, but with Oliver unconscious, she had no way of using psi. It was hardly likely Marcus would lend his. Her one chance was to make like a victim, open the door, and scream the place down.

Before she got halfway there, he was on her, like some jungle beast, leaping onto her back and bringing her down. On her and in her, pushing into her body for the second time, but this time with fangs and cock, a travesty of Oliver’s tender care.

How could she have let this happen?