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Cassidy hated them. Always had. Always would. Secrets had destroyed so many things in her life. Dominique knew better than to keep them from her.

Or at least he should have.

She lay in his arms, staring up past the enormous spinnaker sail swollen with moonlight and wind. They had made a nest for themselves in the webbing suspended between the catamaran’s twin hulls. Stretched out on a quilt and pillows, they watched the stars sway overhead as a steady wind carried them across long, lazy Atlantic swells. Beneath them, black water hissed against the twin hulls. Above, lines creaked in the rigging.

If not for the mysterious new secret looming over them, this outing on Serge’s new pride and joy, the aptly christened Sunseeker, would have been perfect. The forty-one-foot sailing catamaran was a gift from Dominique, who had purchased it with cash thanks to the wealth he inherited along with his power and title.

He had presented Cassidy with a gift as well—a new home. All she had to do was find it. He wasn’t picky. Anywhere, any style, any price was fine with him, so long as it contained a bomb-shelter-grade room for him to spend his days. She took her time researching the options in the high-end real estate market, an arena in which she never imagined herself as an active participant, much less a money-is-no-object buyer. In the meantime, the beach cottage worked fine as a cozy place to hide away in. Even if that meant the vampires in her life spent their days buried in a dune.

Another gift was a new job. She had left the Gazette six weeks ago, not just to tackle luxury house hunting, but also for a challenge she couldn’t refuse—coordinate the launch and operation of a new online service catering exclusively to the blood-drinker community. A more-than-generous salary came with the position, which took hefty chunks out of her student loan debt and nicely padded a personal savings account. Her heart and soul might be bound to a vampire, but her ability to be self-reliant was growing by the day.

Dominique interrupted her mental inventory of events and blessings by brushing stray hair out of her face. When he slid a fingertip down the bridge of her nose, she met his eyes. They were soft and warm and alive with mischief. Moonlight cast the planes of his face and bare torso in a magical glow and made blue highlights shimmer in his wind-tousled hair. He looked every inch as suited to the night as dolphins were to the ocean—and twice as graceful.

Lord of Night.

It was how Kambyses had thought of himself, and Dominique warmed to the title soon enough. Not that he actually lorded it over anyone but Serge yet.

A soft cough pulled Cassidy from her reverie. Annoyance flitted across Dominique’s features, but was gone by the time he turned to face the intruder.

“Am I interrupting?” Samantha asked.

“Delaying the inevitable,” he said, earning himself a quizzical look from Cassidy. God, how she hated not being in his head. Surely he meant to remedy that tonight? Surely that was at least one reason he had suggested they accompany Serge and Samantha on this outing?

Samantha didn’t look convinced. “Uh-huh. I see an awful lot of canoodling going on up here and nothing that looks like meditation practice.”

He flopped on his back with a groan.

She squatted down and placed a wide-bottomed thermos cup on the solid deck beside Cassidy’s pillow. “I brought you some hot tea, sweetie.”

“Thank you.” Cassidy extended an arm from her blanket cocoon and reached for the blessed promise of heat. The early spring day had been hot enough to qualify for summer, but she underestimated the chill of the sea air at night. Her sun dress might as well have been nothing, and the sweatshirt helped only a little. Samantha herself was as-ever attired in yoga pants topped by a bulky sweater.

“I have refreshments for you, too—” She stroked the thick blond braid draped across her shoulder and glanced at Serge, who manned the helm only a few feet away. He nodded vigorous encouragement. “My lord, Dominique,” she finished.

Cassidy rolled her eyes at the title Serge insisted on using and at Samantha’s continued efforts to get Dominique to feed from her. These two were so made for each other. Space cadets, both of them.

“Do you?” The Lord of Night sounded intrigued by the proposal.

Samantha licked at her bottom lip and tucked a fluttering strand of hair behind one ear. Her fingers trailed down the side of her neck, drawing the eye. “It’s all right with Serge—and me, of course—if you want to.”

So, it was true. There was nothing Serge wouldn’t agree to if he thought it maintained his lordship’s good humor. And for good reason. Based on one of his visions, he had talked Dominique into a mutual exchange of blood. While the resulting telepathic bond dissipated as usual, other effects appeared to be permanent. Serge was now profoundly susceptible to Dominique’s moods—and the age-old instinct to terrorize his meals had been replaced by a craving for affection. In short, Serge proudly considered himself “re-sired” by the new Lord of Night.

Dominique appeared to give the offer of “refreshment” serious consideration. “Will you serve your vintage to me in a wineglass?”

Samantha looked scandalized, but Cassidy heard the teasing undertow in his voice. “Will you mind if I throw my tea at you?” she countered sweetly, though she would have been loath to lose the warmth nestled in her hands.

Dominique burst out laughing with infectious delight. In the cockpit, Serge chortled right along with him.

“Ah, mon amour,” he purred. “Promise me you will do exactly that if you ever see me taking blood from anything but a vein.”

“Promise,” she said, and sipped more tea.

“Je suis désolé,” he told Samantha. “I have all the…refreshments I need tonight right here.”

“Could have fooled me,” Cassidy said into her cup, knowing only Dominique would hear her. A dimpled, lopsided grin full of promise was her reward.

With a sigh, Samantha deflated. “Oh, well. Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“But of course,” Dominique concurred with exaggerated smugness.