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“Unsurprising, because having a vampire attached to your neck, sucking on your blood, would undoubtedly be a rather distressing experience,” Monty replied in a sage sort of tone.

“She actually prefers the inner thigh, rather than the neck,” I said. “Apparently, the closer the blood is to the sexual organs, the sweeter it tastes.”

His gaze jumped to mine, expression a mix of surprise and disbelief. “Seriously? You know this how?”

“She told me. Or at least, she told me the first bit, and I was left in no doubt about the second.”

“And why were you discussing such a matter?”

“Maelle volunteered the information. Maybe she thought I’d be curious enough to be tempted.”

“And maybe,” Belle drawled, “she simply figured that if you allowed a werewolf to go down?—”

“Belle!” I cut in, and pushed her arm. “Monty does not need that sort of image in his mind.”

“Monty does not,” he agreed. “So why don’t you two head on into that club before this conversation disintegrates any further. Just be careful.”

“Aside from the fact Maelle’s expecting me, she wants me to rescue Roger. She won’t hurt either of us just yet.”

“If she damn well even tries,” Monty growled, “Roger won’t be the only one fucking staked.”

He found a source for white ash stakes,Belle explained.They arrived a few days ago.

You didn’t mention it.

Thought I’d let you enjoy a few days of engagement bliss before the shit hit the fan again.

Thanks.I paused.Has he checked his stock to make sure none are missing?

The minute you mentioned Roger being staked. All are accounted for.

Ah, good. I switched my attention back to Monty and patted the arm he was resting on the windowsill. “Just remember that she likes a bit of violence with her meals.”

He rolled his eyes and pointed at the club. I grinned and obeyed, although my smile quickly faded as I stepped onto the pavement and a curtain of dark and dangerous energy descended.

It wasn’t aimed at us, and it wasn’t a spell of any kind. It was emotions. Raw, deep, and darkly furious emotions.

“Oh,” Belle muttered, “that does not feel good.”

“No.”

I studied the airlock-like front door but couldn’t see anything to indicate violence or forced entry. Yet that veil very much confirmed that something bad had happened—if not here, then somewhere else.

I took a deep breath that did little to ease the gathering tension, then slowly reached out and gripped the door handle. The metal was oddly cold to the touch, and though my skin crawled, I had no sense of evil or danger.

I opened the door and stepped inside, Belle a couple of steps behind me. The foyer area was in the same state of disrepair as before, although the booth where you checked your coats and paid the entry fees now had a new glass and metal window installed. The doorway into the main club area remained covered by heavy plastic, but this time, doors were here, ready to be installed. I pushed the plastic aside, stepped through, and held it up for Belle.

But as I dropped the plastic back into place, a cloud of raw emotion hit, its force so strong it felt like a punch to the gut. I gasped and leant over, sucking in air as I frantically raised additional mental barriers to quell the emotional tide. Belle’s presence sharpened in my mind, and a heartbeat later, the tide dissipated. Not fully, but enough that I could breathe and think again.

“Thanks,” I said, pushing upright again. “I should have thought to strengthen my shields, given what we sensed outside.”

“I don’t think either of us expected—” She stopped, her gaze widening in shock.

My head snapped around.

Maelle walked toward us, her normally meticulously bound chestnut hair falling like string all around her face, and her eyes … Fear stepped into my heart.

Her eyes were usually a gray so pale there was only the slightest variation between her irises and the white. But here—now—they were black. All black. Ghoulish black.