“Then I’m ready whenever you are.”
Chapter 19
Eight of us piled into a different limousine than the one Vlad and I had arrived in. Due to the freezing temperature, I wore a long, thick coat over my dress. It also acted as a protective barrier for my right hand, which I kept tucked inside it. Once we were all in the vehicle, however, it didn’t move though the driver sat at the wheel with the engine running.
“What’s the hold up, Hunter?” Ben asked.
“Getting authorization,” Hunter replied, and then rolled up the privacy glass.
“Authorization? Since when?” Ben muttered.
From their glances, everyone began to figure out that I was the reason for the delay, but they chatted as though nothing was amiss. After about ten minutes, the privacy glass came down. Maximus now sat in the passenger seat, glaring at me.
“Did you really think you could sneak away?”
That brought the conversation to a halt. I stared back at him, my temper flaring.
“I’m not sneaking anywhere. I’m going out with the other residents of this house. I notice
“Because you belong to Vlad,” Maximus said at once.
My fists clenched.
Ben caught my frustrated clenching. “Hey, it’s cool. We all belong to Vlad,” he said, patting my knee in a comforting way.
Maximus’s gaze went from gray to bright green in an instant. “Not like she does, so remove your hand or I will remove it from your body. No one touches her except Vlad.”
Ben’s hand flew off my knee as if I’d channeled lightning into him. Maximus’s meaning could not have been clearer. I was torn between wanting to sink into the seat in embarrassment—or leaping forward and electrocuting him. The latter was more appealing, but then it would ruin my plans for the evening.
“Now that you’ve marked your master’s territory for him, can we leave?” I asked, icicles hanging off every syllable.
He nodded at the driver, and the car took off. Sandra nudged Joe and hissed, “Raise the glass.” He pressed the button, and the front seat was once more blocked off.
As soon as it was up—as if
I was getting drunk. Rip-roaring, stinking, worshipping-at-the-porcelain-altar drunk. Damn Maximus for his big mouth, and damn Vlad for his incomprehensible arrogance.
“It’s not like that,” I muttered, looking out the window rather than at the seven sets of eyes fixed on me. “Nothing’s happened between us.”
Sandra let out a knowing laugh. “But Vlad must intend for something to happen to make it known that you’re his.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ben shake his head. “I should’ve known something was up when Vlad came himself after you fainted. If any of us gets sick or injured, we get sent a doctor, but we don’t see
Several murmurs of agreement. I still said nothing, but I filed that away for potential mulling later.
“Tell me about this club,” I said, changing the subject.
From their description, even on a winter week night it would be busy since it was the only one in a town of about three thousand. We arrived in thirty minutes. I was by the door, so I got out first, looking around.
FANE’S was on the front of the two-story, wood and stone building. A long stone chimney puffed smoke into the clear night. The other buildings on this street looked closed, but across the street, some of them had their lights on. I liked how the streetlights resembled iron lanterns on tall poles. It added to the aged feel of the town.
Maximus got out of the limo but stayed close to me. “What, are you my babysitter tonight?” I grumbled.
He shrugged. “Call it what you like.”
Wait until I saw Vlad. This sort of crap might have worked in the fifteenth century, but it would backfire on him now.
“Do me a favor,” I said, not bitching at Maximus only because I still felt guilty over yesterday. “Stay far enough away so I don’t look like I’ve got a Viking-sized backpack?”
Maximus smiled slightly and held open the door. “I’ll try.”
I went in, surprised to see that on the inside, Fane’s didn’t look very different from the bars back in Gibsonton. A smattering of tables took up the space leading to the long, curving bar, with a fireplace adding to the restaurantlike atmosphere. Sandra first took me to the coatroom, where all of us unloaded our heavy outerwear. Then I followed her to the bar and took the seat she kindly saved for me.
“What will you have to drink?” she asked.
Red wine was normally my drink of choice, but tonight, I wanted something harder.
“Vodka and cranberry juice, if they have it. If not, vodka and whatever they have to mix it in.”
She grinned. “Oslow!” she called out. The bartender turned. “
The only word I recognized out of that last sentence was
“I ordered your drink and told him to put it on the prince’s tab.”
“Does everyone know who Vlad is?” I asked in surprise.
Sandra ran a hand through her golden-red hair before answering. “In this town, many know, but few speak of it, and never to outsiders. Romanians revere the heroes of their history and they know how to keep secrets.”
Then she slanted a glance at me. “As the object of the prince’s desire, many would consider you a very lucky woman.”
“It’s the ‘object’ part I have the biggest problem with,” I muttered, picking up my drink as soon as it was set in front of me. “And I’m going to need a lot more of these before I feel anything close to lucky.”
Six vodka cranberries later, I allowed Sandra to talk me into going to the second floor where the dance area was. Sandra, Ben, and the others seemed to get a kick out of forming a protective circle around me. I kept my right hand glued to my hip and danced like I didn’t have a care in the world. I might not understand the lyrics, but a good beat needed no translation.
A few more drinks later, I’d decided that tonight was the best night I’d had in years when a crashing noise sounded above the blaring music. The floor shuddered, too, making me look around in confusion. Did Romania get earthquakes? I wasn’t the only one peering about, but then I heard Maximus’s roar.
“Hunter, get her out of here!”
That was when I smelled the smoke. Another tremendous boom shook the dance floor, and people began to scream.
“Fire!” Sandra shouted, in case the smoke and panic hadn’t clued me in.
My circle of friends disintegrated as the crowd scrambled en masse toward the staircase. I tried to keep my right hand from touching anyone, but the crush became too tight. The person next to me dropped to the floor when she was shoved into me. Grayish images of shoplifting filled my mind, and when I blinked back into reality, I didn’t see her anymore. The rough jostling had propelled me away. I tried to find her, afraid she’d get trampled.
I tucked my right hand into my armpit to prevent any more accidental contact and fought my way through the crowd, heading