“Won’t it be a little difficult to guard her in New York?”
Caedmon sent me an old look. “I will not endanger all of Faerie for one woman’s convenience, as you surely must know. But do not be alarmed.” He stroked my side as if I were a flustered pet. “It may not be an issue. Perhaps there is no pregnancy at all, or possibly the child is female. Then your friend may stay where she likes.”
“What, women don’t rule Faerie?”
“Certainly not.” He feigned shock. “Or, rather, not in the civilized areas. The Alorestri presently have a female leader—terrible woman—but they have always been unorthodox. It comes from living so near the border, practically side by side with the Dark. They need every pair of hands for defense, and once women are warriors, it is difficult to keep them out of politics.”
“How distressing for you.”
Caedmon smiled. “Oh, I like strong women, Dorina.” I hadn’t seen the hand that had wormed its way under the covers, but I felt it when it slid up my calf. “In fact, I prefer them.”
I reached under my pillow. “And precisely how can you help me?”
He eyed me in amusement. “Refrain from stabbing me and I will tell you.”
I let go of the weapon, but kept it near to hand. Caedmon noticed, but didn’t appear worried. “You are in a difficult situation, little one. If you are to get back your friend, you must give this Dracula the lives of two others whom you esteem. Either that or risk attacking him and possibly losing her nevertheless. Is my summary accurate?”
“Close enough.” He didn’t get any kudos for that; he’d had enough clues from the letter. “What do you propose to do about it?”
“You need two men,” Caedmon said. “One is already here, and the other—” He thumped himself on the chest theatrically. “I can be him.”
I stared. It was hard to imagine anyone who looked less like Mircea. “You? Not on the darkest of nights! I doubt you could fool a myopic servant, much less his own brother!”
“You forget my people’s ability at glamourie. I assure you, I can.”
I shook my head. “And you forget the vampire sense of smell. Drac could tell the difference from across the room—from across several rooms! He’d never buy it.”
“But I will not be across the room, little one. He will never see me so close—”
I was about to ask how he expected to manage that when I heard something. It was faint, but this house had settled long ago; there was no reason for the stairs to creak unless someone was on them. Judging by the way his hand tightened on my leg, Caedmon had heard it, too. So much for questions about his hearing—it was at least as good as mine.
Or maybe better. “Louis-Cesare,” he mouthed. I don’t know how he knew, but I didn’t question it. The last thing I needed was for Louis-Cesare to think I was in collusion with the Fey. He was suspicious enough as it was. Caedmon seemed to reach the same conclusion, because he tossed the coverlet on the floor, threw a leg over me and started kissing my neck.
I pushed at him, but it got me exactly nowhere. I was getting extremely tired of strong manly types. Whatever happened to the ninety-pound weaklings? The kind I could maybe still beat up? “What are you doing?”
“Providing me with an excuse to be here,” he murmured in my ear. Then he bit it.
“Caedmon!”
“Dorina!” Louis-Cesare’s muffled voice came through the thick wood. I stared at it, wondering why I suddenly felt guilty.
Caedmon took the opportunity of my distraction to cop a feel. I didn’t bother to repress a squeal, since I knew his excuse wouldn’t work. I had a reputation for being very cautious about my lovers—with good reason. I’d had more than one try to kill me. No way was Radu going to believe I’d invited someone I’d just met for a rendezvous.
The Fey had started working his way downward. Warm lips slid along my collarbone, putting the long line of his neck directly under my nose. I did the only thing I could under the circumstances. I bit it.
Caedmon leaned into the feel of my teeth in his flesh as if to a caress. It startled me enough that I jerked back, ripping my fangs through his skin instead of sliding them out as I’d planned. Blood dripped down the perfection of his chest in a dark stain, and he groaned loudly. I don’t think it was from pain.