Death's Mistress (Dorina Basarab, #2)

“Are you trying to get rid of me, ’Du?” I asked thoughtfully.

“Yes! Yes, I am! It’s nothing personal, Dory, but your condition—”

“I’m a dhampir. It isn’t catching.”

“But it’s hardly going to help the Club’s reputation, is it? You’re the sort of thing most of the guests stay here to avoid.”

“They’re not going to see me with the door closed,” I pointed out, swirling the amber liquid around my glass.

“See, no. But scent—”

“I smell like a human.” I knocked the drink back, faster than the quality deserved. But it was a shame to waste good cognac.

“Perhaps so,” he said crossly. “But you see how it is.”

“I’m beginning to.” I put the delicate crystal glass down carefully on the side table, and was out the door before he could stop me.

There were only three other rooms on this floor, so my odds were pretty good. The one right across the hall was empty and obviously unrented, with a light film of dust over the antiques. The one next door to Radu’s was occupied by the blond human, who was lying on the bed flipping through a magazine.

“I’m disappointed,” he told me. “The last time you paid us a visit was a lot more dramatic.”

“I’m not done yet.”

I went to the last door, which opened before I could get my hand on the doorknob. “Merde.”

“I suspected the family would have the whole floor,” I told Louis-Cesare.





Chapter Fourteen


“How did you find me?” he demanded, exasperation in the glassy blue of his irises. They matched the fresh blue shirt he’d put on over impeccably pressed charcoal trousers. The shirt had a tone-on-tone stripe in a satiny weave that caught the light, like his perfect shining hair. Mine was everywhere, my borrowed T-shirt was wet with sweat and I smelled like cigarettes and beer. And I hadn’t even gotten to drink the beer.

I scowled. “You mean after you left me naked and defenseless—”

“You are never defenseless, and I left you your weapons.”

“—in a club full of vampires—”

“I made a commotion upon leaving. Lord Cheung’s men followed me!”

“Oh, well. That makes it all right, then.”

He frowned. “How did you find me?” he repeated.

“Because I’m just that good,” I lied. “Now let me say this nicely. Give me back my fucking head!”

“We cannot do this now!” he told me, trying to push past. Like it was going to be that easy.

I caught his arm and spun him into the wall hard enough to cause a cascade of photos, small mirrors and the vase on the hall table. “Sure, we can.”

He scowled and pushed off the wall. “Go home, Dory.”

“Give me what I want, and I will!”

Radu appeared in the doorway. “I know this is a stupid question before I ask it, but is there any chance that we can discuss this like civilized people?”

Louis-Cesare glanced at him over his shoulder, then looked back at me, eyes narrowing.

He stepped back a pace and dangled the duffel off one long finger. “Come and get it.”

I stared. “Oh, no, you didn’t.”

“Oh, yeah. He did. You gonna take that?” Raymond piped up from the depths of the duffel.

“You really want to do this?” I demanded. “Because I’m not going to play nice. You know that, right?” The only answer I got was a flying tackle that caught me around the knees and sent me skidding on my back over hard wood.

I grinned. Well, all right, then.

“That’s what I thought,” Radu sighed.

I’d landed at the top of the stairs, with my knees up and Louis-Cesare on top of me. So of course I flipped him. He went over my head but didn’t fall far because security was on their way up again. He landed on a couple of guards, who grabbed him for the second it took for them to recognize him as a guest. It gave me a chance to jump back to my feet and topple over a grandfather clock.

It went chiming downward, only to be batted aside by Louis-Cesare in a blow that turned it into musical kindling. The same was true for a marble statue, a painting in a heavy gilt frame and a large potted plant. The junk in the stairwell caused a few vamps to lose their footing and slide backward, and the disorienting sphere I pulled out of my duffel and exploded in their midst had the rest staring around in bewilderment.

Except for Louis-Cesare, who in one inhumanly liquid movement topped the stairs and caught me in a tackle that sent me sliding backward again, this time on the carpet runner. It was tacked down, so it didn’t move, leaving me with a massive case of rug burn. “Ow,” I said distinctly.

“This wouldn’t be necessary if you would—” He smelled the blood and flipped me over, yanking up the T-shirt. “Dieu! I never know what to do with you!”

“How about telling me the truth?”

“Would you know it if I did?” His voice was sharp enough on the edges to cut steel.

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