Turquoise realized where she had seen the painting of Midnight—also in Lord Daryl’s manor, hanging on the wall of his office. However, Jeshickah’s gaze had settled on Ravyn. “Jared’s pet, wasn’t she?”
“Perhaps.” Nathaniel glanced at Ravyn absently. “But I don’t recall anyone quite like her.”
Throughout the exchange, Ravyn’s gaze had remained on the car door. Her expression, however, she could not control.
“She’s not broken,” Jeshickah observed.
“Not quite,” Nathaniel agreed. “I thought Jaguar might enjoy that. I was going to present the girls to him directly.”
“There was a time when you would have enjoyed them yourself,” Jeshickah responded. Turquoise saw Nathaniel’s expression cool to a blank, unreadable mask. The words had struck a nerve.
“Jaguar is much more qualified than I ever was,” he answered.
Jeshickah growled a rather unflattering expletive under her breath. Aloud, she added, “The little cat had talent, but I’m afraid time has liquefied his brain. I think I’ll come with you and see what he makes of this fine pair. Jaguar will certainly deal with their pride.” She sighed, and with an air of regretful practicality, added, “Or he won’t, and I’ll tear out the bleeding heart he’s developed and make him eat it.” She said the last words brightly and with a smile as she led the way toward Midnight, not even bothering to glance back to see if Nathaniel had heeded her commands.
“You two, follow,” Nathaniel ordered Turquoise and Ravyn. The tone was surprisingly similar to the one with which Jeshickah had spoken to him, and as the mercenary had obeyed, so did the hunters.
CHAPTER 5
JESHICKAH’S BOOT HEELSmade a sharp
The imposing, carved door opened to reveal a young boy, probably no older than fourteen. He started to walk outside, and then froze when he saw Jeshickah. His aborted step turned into a stumble, at the end of which Turquoise flinched to hear the impact of the boy’s knees on marble. He moved as if to stand, and then rethought the action.
Jeshickah regarded the boy as if he were a sickly dog.
“Can I help you, milady?” His voice was soft, and he kept his eyes carefully on the ground.
“Stand up and get out of the way,” she suggested. Carefully, the boy rose to his feet and slid aside, still never raising his eyes. He waited for Jeshickah, Nathaniel, Ravyn, and Turquoise to pass before slinking after them.
“Mangy cur,” Jeshickah growled under her breath. She ignored the boy, who was following them, and spoke only to Nathaniel. “His name is Eric. Jaguar treats him like a son, gives him free rein of the building and grounds, even lets him into town when he wants to go. The creature is obedient, but spoiled.”
Jeshickah led the way to Midnight’s interior, which was slightly less intimidating, but no less elegant. An oaken panel ran halfway up the wall, where it broke into a rich jade green. A carpet of oriental design covered the floor, soft and plush enough that Turquoise could feel it through her sneakers.
Near the end of the hall, Jeshickah pushed open a door and let the party into a dimly lit room.
Long ago, Turquoise had learned that the most evil creatures in the world were frequently the most beautiful. The Master of Midnight was no exception.
Jaguar—and it could only be him—was sprawled on his back across a black leather couch, one hand beneath his head, with his eyes closed. His skin was the color of a deep, golden tan, and his hair was black, perfectly straight and long. When he stood, it would probably hang to his lower back. He was wearing soft, black pants that hugged a body that Turquoise tried valiantly not to stare at.
That was it—no shirt, no shoes, no jewelry. The whip Nathaniel had mentioned was curled on Jaguar’s chest like a black viper. His hand resting on the handle reminded Turquoise of a child with a beloved stuffed animal.
As she paused in the doorway, the vampire’s eyes fluttered open—black eyes, like obsidian, they seemed to reflect the light cast from the lamp in the corner. They lit on Jeshickah instantly, and the expression on his face snapped from sleepy contentment to wary aggression as he stood.
Turquoise expected the two to come to blows in the moment of silence that passed, but instead Jeshickah spoke. “Have a good nap, pet?” she purred.
It took obvious effort for Jaguar to ignore her as he spoke to Nathaniel. “These the girls you called me about?”
The tension that Turquoise had seen in Nathaniel the instant he had sighted Jeshickah’s car was either gone or flawlessly hidden. He nodded, explaining, “They aren’t perfectly broken, but they’re smart enough not to give you any trouble. Besides that, they’re both healthy and fairly attractive. There’s some scarring on that one,” Nathaniel continued, gesturing toward Turquoise, “mostly on her arms, but nothing unusual.”
“Let me see.” The command came from Jeshickah.
Nathaniel had prepared Turquoise for the inspection, and so she was wearing her only tank top, over which she had thrown a cotton shirt despite the August heat. She hesitantly removed her outer layer.
The scars had been hers for nearly three years; she had hidden them for nearly that long. With only the tank top, she felt half naked.
“Whip?” Jaguar asked, frowning at the semicircle of scarring around Turquoise’s left wrist, a smooth pearl bracelet cut into her skin.
Turquoise felt the muscles between her shoulder blades tense, but she kept her eyes down. She had already concocted the story she could tell if asked about her past. Only Lord Daryl would be able to contradict her, and she counted on his pride to keep him from doing so if the opportunity arose.
“Her first trainer wasn’t as careful as most,” Nathaniel answered vaguely.
Jaguar seemed to accept the answer. “How much for the pair of them?”
Nathaniel was in his element now. He was a green-blooded mercenary. Any fondness he had for Turquoise or distaste he held for Jeshickah or Jaguar faded as soon as the question of money was raised.
Jeshickah forestalled any bartering. “Allow me, kitten. You need a few more toys around here.” Jaguar’s glare met the nickname, but Jeshickah had already turned away from him. “Nathaniel, shall we haggle in private while Jaguar gets to know his new acquisitions?”
Jeshickah wrapped an arm around Nathaniel’s waist. They walked out together, but the contact did not appear friendly.
In the silence of their departure, tension began to drain from the room. Jaguar let out a slow breath. Vampires by nature did not need to breathe, but human habits died hard.
Without speaking, he walked around the two humans, a silent inspection. It occurred to Turquoise that they were lucky to have this job so shortly after Challenge. They both had plenty of bruises and new cuts, the absence of which would have been suspicious. Turquoise watched her new master as long as he was in her line of sight. Jaguar moved like his namesake, all grace and muscle. His black hair was a black pelt smooth against his skin.
“Names?” he asked finally.
“Audra.” Turquoise understood Nathaniel’s suggestion not to use the name Turquoise Draka—her name was well known as a vampire hunter’s—but there was no power on Earth that could make her start using Catherine again. Catherine had been innocent, a child—defenseless prey. The memories of that girl’s life, her family and friends, were bittersweet at best.
“Ravyn,” the other hunter answered defiantly, stupidly ignoring all advice.
Jaguar gave no sign of recognizing the girl. Instead, he offered, “If you have questions, ask them now.”
“Are there any rules we should know, sir?” Turquoise could not have managed to say “milord” or “master” without choking.
She knew the one general rule of slavery: Do whatever you are told to do. However, there were always
