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Helen fluttered a dismissive wave.“Oh, but these parties are such a bore. Nothing but politics and formality. Marcus and I have invited several of our guests to join us at one of his clubs for the after-party. You should come. It will give us an opportunity to catch up.” She stroked Jericho’s biceps, unfazed by the brain-frying laser beams Alex burned into her skull.

“A generous invitation,” Jericho said in a seductive tone, sounding far too interested. “In fact, I paid a visit to Pulse just a few nights ago.” He directed the comment to Marcus, skillfully steering the conversation.

“Laramore mentioned you had a meeting scheduled the night of the rogue attack.” Marcus’ impassive expression revealed little.

Alex struggled to bring him back into focus, wishing she could reach for Jericho’s hand. Something that was impossible whileHelenhung from his arm like a sloth in heat.

Jericho continued, “Unfortunately, the rogue appeared before we had a chance to talk.”

Satisfaction slithered over Alex’s nerve endings, the source indistinct. Without Jericho to ground her gift, the crowd bombarded her senses. She fought the instinctive urge to slam her blocks into place while grappling to reestablish a link with her target.

Marcus’ brow furrowed. “I’m grateful you were there, or many more lives would have been lost. As it was, the damage was extensive. The report I received indicated the attack was a result of yet another overdose.”

This was it, exactly what they needed. She dialed into Marcus’ rising frustration. Braced to delve deeper. Closed her eyes and blew out a breath.

The room spun, and her stomach took a nauseating swan dive.

Her eyes snapped open, and a dull buzzing sounded in her head. What was that? Again, she closed her eyes, exhaled and—nothing. The link to Marcus was gone.

Quiet.

Absolute…quiet.

Every emotion in the place had vanished. Never in her life had she experienced such bone-chilling silence. What the hell was going on? Was it possible the stress had short-circuited her ability?

When Marcus commented on the rogue outbreak, Alex wanted to stomp her foot. Damn it, what was making that buzzing sound?

Prickling heat burned the base of her skull. She ran her palm over her nape, casting a wild glance around the room. Not far from them, a startled blonde with a flower tucked behind her ear met Alex’s curious stare. Eyes wide with surprise, the woman lowered her hand from her neck. She lingered at the edge of a small crowd. With her richly embroidered, bohemian dress, she was a delicate wildflower among a sea of thorns.

Beside her, an ebony-haired woman slid a possessive arm around her, speaking quietly in her ear. The blonde nodded and dropped her gaze submissively. A vampire and her Chosen? While they seemed familiar, Alex was certain she hadn’t met them before.

She watched the two, fascinated. The female vampire commanded the attention of every male gathered, and her crimson lips held a seductive smile. Her black gown was a daring mix of solid and sheer fabric that teased and yet left one guessing. When her eyes lifted, Alex was caught staring.

Recognition flickered in the other woman’s expression, and her focus shifted to Jericho before darkening with displeasure.

What the heck was that about? Alex dragged her eyes away, only to discover Helen studying the pair as well. As she stared, a broad grin lit the viper’s face before she turned back to Jericho.

Once more, Alex tried to focus her ability and picked up little but the feedback from her own frustration. Marcus mentioned something about a private investigator, and her throat tightened. This was exactly what Victor wanted, and Alex was failing. So many times, she’d wished her gift away. Why was this happening now?

As they spoke, Helen took every opportunity to press her ample bosom against Jericho’s arm. When he smiled as though he enjoyed the attention, Alex wanted to arch her back and hiss.

Did vampires get boob jobs? There was no way those things were real.

Damn it, Alex had one job to do and was failing miserably while theCFO of Hootervillewas rubbing all over Jericho.

His thick arm circled Helen’s waist, and the look he shared with her was full of promise. Alex should know. He’d used it on her just this morning. Bastard.

Her serene smile pulled into a sneer. The air grew stifling, and she wiped the sweat from her brow. When a waiter walked by with a tray of drinks, she snagged a glass as he passed.

“Goodness, Jericho,” Helen scoffed. “You allow her to drink?”

Champagne washed up Alex’s throat, close to shooting out her nose. Shit, Chosen weren’t supposed to consume alcohol since it thinned the blood or some nonsense like that. Who could remember all these stupid rules?

Jericho’s brows drew together, and a look of stern reprimand put Alex over the edge. She tightened her grip on the glass, resisting the urge to throw it in both their faces.

Instead, she slammed it back, chugging campaign like a champ, then shoved the flute into Jericho’s hand. Helen gaped at her as if she’d gone mad.

“Excuse me, please. I need to piss,” Alex croaked before spinning on her heel.