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VAN

C eleste’s lips were soft on mine and her scent enchanted me. I pulled her closer, pressing her soft curves against my body, as she looped her arms around the back of my neck and trailed her fingers through my hair.

Mine.

Yes. My jaguar purred inside, languid and content. Mate.

She pulled away, and her eyes fixed on mine—searching. I was still dazed by the unexpected kiss that threw me off like never before.

Celeste appeared just as flustered, but ran her hands down the sides of her dress. She glanced to the side and exhaled, relaxing her shoulders. “He’s gone.”

“Who?” I questioned as I returned to earth, coming back to our surroundings.

“Lucien,” she said. “My ex.”

“Oh, right.” I shook my head, which seemed to be filled with angels singing a sweet song about destiny and my jaguar’s insistent mantra about finding our mate.

Could it—could it be possible?

She placed her hand on my cheek. “Thanks, Van. I think that discouraged him thoroughly from bothering me tonight. I’ll see you later.”

She turned to head toward a door leading back inside.

“Wait,” I called, stepping toward her.

She stopped and turned halfway. “Is something wrong?”

Wrong? No, everything in the universe was suddenly right after having her in my arms and kissing her.

But everything was wrong about her leaving.

To her, it was just pretend. I’d be a fool if I thought otherwise.

“I’ll talk to him.” I straightened. “Warn him to leave you alone.” If he didn’t, I’d be more persuasive. Such as ripping his snarling head off his undead neck.

“No need for a confrontation,” she said. “But I think seeing me with someone else is finally nailing it into his coffin that it’s over.” She motioned toward me. “Are you free at midnight tomorrow?”

I had a show earlier in the night but would be finished by then. “Yes.”

“Interested in art?”

“Art?” I repeated.

“Yes, there’s an art auction for the late-night crowd.” She chuckled. “Essentially rich vampires. Want to join me as my date ?”

“Of course.” Then my throat tightened. I had less than a day to try to learn something about art so I wouldn’t look like an idiot.

The next day after practice, I headed over to the library. Piper, a witch with pinkish hair who worked art auctions and was my bandmate Rex’s mate, sat at the desk. She helped a woman check out a book.

When she saw me, her eyes widened. “Van, is that really you— in a library ?”

“Yeah.” I ran a hand through my hair and exhaled. “You work here?”

“Not usually. I was asked to cover for someone for a couple of hours. Easy enough gig.”

I stepped closer. “Piper, can you help me?”

“Sure, what do you need?”

“I—uh—” I glanced around. Shelf after shelf of books. “I need to learn about art.”

She squinted at me. “What specifically?”

How would I know? I adjusted my weight, my hands feeling clammy. “Whatever you’re showing tonight.”

She snapped her head back with surprise. “At the art auction?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you coming? I’ve never seen you there before.”

I nudged my chin up. “I have a date.”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, a date, eh?” Several weeks ago, Piper and Kylie had talked about placing bets on who would be next at finding their mate—Caleb or me.

I’d sworn that it would never happen for me, but that was before a tall, stunning vampire with sleek black hair had stepped on board.

And now? I didn’t know what the hell was going on. I couldn’t really have found my mate, could I?

Yes , my jaguar insisted.

“And I want to impress her,” I told Piper. “She’s—elegant, sophisticated, rich?—”

Piper let out a low chuckle. “Sounds like she’s out of your league.”

I grunted. “Exactly. And I don’t want to sound like a bumbling baboon. Can you give me a quick overview of art?”

Piper glanced at a clock. “That would take more than a few minutes, Van, so I’m afraid not.

I have to close up the library and then I have stuff to do before the auction.

Our main attraction tonight is a painting of a dryad in the forest.” She clucked her tongue and then flashed a teasing grin.

“That means no time to help you get laid, Casanova.”

I straightened, somewhat uncomfortable. Sure, I wanted to sleep with Celeste, but she was more than someone just for the night. “It’s not like that.”

Piper drummed her fingers on the desk. “But I can reserve two front-row seats for you, if you like.”

“Yes.” I nodded eagerly. Anything to impress Celeste. “Thanks, Piper.”

“No problem.” She stepped over to one of the bookcases and pulled out a book. “Here you go. Plenty of pictures and short but interesting overviews.” She handed it to me.

I glanced at the book on art history and peeked inside. “Is this a kids’ book?”

“It’s an overview,” she said. “Skim through it and stop on anything you find interesting. Then you can bring it up later.”

I was pretty sure it was aimed for kids, but wasn’t complaining. “Good plan, Pipes.”

“Pipes?” she echoed, narrowing her eyes. “I’m not part of the ship’s plumbing system.”

I chuckled, said thanks, and left the library.

After taking the stairs two at a time up to the pool deck, I found an empty chair where I could bask under the sun while I read.

Ah, the warm, sunny skies of the Caribbean.

So different from our Alaskan route with its majestic views.

I opened the book, flipped through some of the pages, and promptly fell asleep.

I stood outside Celeste’s suite just before midnight, feeling like a penguin in a sauna.

Damn, this monkey suit was uncomfortable.

I was sweating in a suit I’d borrowed from the ship’s costume department.

It was a little snug in the shoulders. But hey, dressing fancy was the way to go if I wanted to impress a woman like Celeste.

When she answered the door wearing a dark purple dress that clung just so to all the right places, my tongue felt dry. I swallowed. Then her scent hit me, that intoxicating mix of midnight flowers and moonlight.

Mate.

What the hell? That wasn’t my jaguar responding that time, but me . I cleared my throat. “Celeste, you look stunning.”

A small grin spread across her face before she appraised me. “You clean up well yourself.”

“Thanks.” I puffed out my chest but the tightness of the suit restrained it. “I’ve secured us prime seats at the art auction,” I announced in what I’d meant to sound suave but instead came out in a faux posh accent. To run with it as if it were intention, I added, “Shall we?” I offered my arm.

We took the elevators down and headed into the Mermaid’s Gallery.

A fox shifter, Sloane, handed us numbers and explained how the bidding worked.

Her number was sixty-eight and mine was sixty-nine.

It took a tug on my self-control to bite back a dirty joke about it.

I wasn’t shooting the shit with my band, and now was not the time to sound immature.

Supernaturals were dressed up in their finest clothes, flaunting their money with fancy jewels. A server handed us champagne, hers tinted pink, and I was sure I knew why.

We wandered through the paintings on display before the auction began.

With all the wealth surrounding me, I felt as out of place as an ogre in a teashop.

I wished I’d read up on art and hadn’t fallen asleep so I could have something intelligent to say.

Damn, this woman got to me good. Not only was I suited up, but trying to discuss art?

Marcel, the vampire who was Piper’s boss, spoke to a couple about another painting. I tried to eavesdrop on their conversation but only caught “magnificent” before they moved on.

When we reached the painting, I gaped at the abstract swirls of color, searching for something profound. Pointing out that it looked swirly didn’t sound too cultured.

“Now this piece is magnificent , isn’t it?”

Celeste’s lips twitched. No doubt she’d heard Marcel and realized I was echoing him. “Quite magnificent,” she agreed.

I stared at the painting, trying to drum up something interesting, but nothing came. Instead, I turned the focus on her. “Are you interested in anything particular tonight?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “There’s a piece supposedly painted by a druid. I love a painting with a good story. Fun to point out at parties.”

Ah ha! I knew that painting. I only wish Piper had told me more about it.

Celeste’s mention of parties with talk of artwork reminded me how different our worlds were.

I’d frequented rock clubs before I’d joined the Moonlight Siren.

The fanciest piece of art on the walls was more like a neon flashing sign advertising cold beer.

“Then you must have it,” I declared. What the hell was I talking about? I’d never been to an art auction before and had no idea how this would all play out—nor how much the artwork would go for.