“He has the key because you couldn’t get along with him safely. That was your decision, not mine.” Heidi studied her. “As for whether or not he will
She wanted to bang her fists against the desk, but she curled them into fists, nails biting into her palms. Temper never persuaded Heidi. “If he frees me, you lose two lead dancers in as many months.”
“True and I have an entire chorus line to choose from. Sit down, Roseatre.” Heidi waved to the chair opposite her and picked up her pen. “You need to think this all the way through.”
To her amazement, Heidi went back to writing in her book. Still holding the snuggling Minion, she obeyed the stage manager and sat. “Think what through?”
“All of it. You’re reacting—a bad habit of yours I must admit. I would think you learned that lesson when you joined the show, but apparently not.” Heidi’s pen scratched along the paper.
“I’m not reacting. I’m trying to protect—” She broke off on that sentence. Anthony said she was trying to protect him as she did her shield-sister. She wasn’t allowing him a choice in the matter.
Nor had she really allowed Cerveau.
“And now she thinks.” Heidi didn’t look up. She simply turned the page, dipped her pen in the inkwell and returned to her notes.
Minion patted her hair. “You don’t have to think. It’s a lot more trouble than it’s worth.” The little one giggled and bounced off her shoulder to land on the desk—perching carefully lest she disturb the page Heidi worked on. She picked up a puzzle box and began to work the shifting pattern on the top.
“Why is Anthony here?”
“Because I needed an act to help bring more customers inside. We’ve had too sharp a decline since Pandora left.”
“I get that.” Roseatre tread carefully. “But why Anthony? Why a weretiger when you know my Tribe and his Pride have been mortal enemies for centuries?”
“Have they now? How very Bronze Age of them.” Heidi sighed and set aside her pen again. Roseatre refused to take the bait of the deflection and stared at the stage manager. “Let me ask you a question. Why are you here?”
“You know why.”
“No, here in my office. Why are you here?”
“Because Anthony won’t let it go.” At Heidi’s arched eyebrow, she fumbled and clamped her mouth shut. Why was she asking for Heidi’s help? Just the thought of Anthony made her pulse race. She loved his scent. Adored how he wrapped his arms around her and insisted that she stay in his suite even when the sun claimed her soul.
The pain and torture in his eyes that turned to light when she awoke each of the past four evenings welcomed her, embraced her—seduced her. Working together the last three nights, even as grueling as rehearsal became, were some of the best in recent memory.
Her heart squeezed in her chest.
“Do you still wish me to intervene?” Heidi and Minion both stared at her, twin expressions of patience and amusement on their faces.
“No.” Roseatre shook her head slowly and then more firmly. “No, thank you.”
“Excellent. You have rehearsal and I have work.”
Dismissed, Roseatre stood and gave Minion another pat before walking out of the stage manager’s office and into Anthony leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest. His body said relaxed, but the sharp, assessing look in his eyes told her he heard everything.
“I’m sorry.” She thought it would be hard, but the words came out easily.
He tilted his head, brows lifted in mild question.
“I need more time.” It was an evasion, but it smacked of the truth. She wanted Anthony to stop asking her because she wanted to say yes.
But how did she reconcile the desire to be with him and break her oath with the need and in all honesty, the desire, to honor her oath?
“Okay.” He cupped the back of her neck and drew her to him for a kiss as soft as a spring rain, the touch of his lips searing her to her soul. “Cats are very patient.”
She chuckled. “Since when?”
“Since you need me to be.”
“Cat.” Cerveau stared down at him. He’d shifted to get ready for their dress rehearsal, but the Amazon waited just off the stage in the wings where they would be hidden in the shadows.
He studied her face as she knelt down and brought herself level with him. It was a risky position for a warrior to adopt—particularly when he could take her throat out or rake her from breast to belly in one strike. He canted his head, nose twitching. Hints of a familiar scent clung to her—no—came from her. The touch of exotic spice accented the bite of bronze.
Even her eyes were different—warm like the Mediterranean—melting the ice he’d seen there before.
“Don’t let her stay here because of me.” Of all he expected her to say, that was not it. “I don’t understand it most of the time,” she continued, darting a look around to make sure they were still alone. He flicked his ears. No one was close enough to hear her hushed whispers. “But I know she stays because of me. If you can persuade her to go—do it. Don’t let her say no.”
He would love to deny her a choice in the matter. She wore slave bands. He could strip them off tonight when they were done and free her. But that would only infuriate her and if she went into them once, what would it do to him to have his mate submit to it again?
He sneezed and shook his head. He couldn’t force this decision. No matter how much he wished otherwise. He’d tried to corner the stage manager, but she ignored him. Roseatre asked him for time.
He would give it.
“Please just—” If he hadn’t been watching her, he might never have seen it but the deep blue of her eyes retreated behind walls of frost. The guard returned to her expression and the soft pleading in her mouth firmed to a hard line. “Do as you will, cat, but she made her choice and you won’t change her mind.”
She rose in one fluid motion, pivoted and marched back out on the stage. Anthony sat back on his haunches.
Another clue.
The woman who encouraged him to get Roseatre out of here was trapped behind another far colder and indifferent one. The flattened scent she left in her wake confirmed his suspicion.
Roseatre strolled toward him, her hips swaying, and he tipped his head back to catch the flavor of her against his tongue. She brushed a hand across his head and stroked his ear. “Ready to go to work?”
He rubbed his cheek to her leg, marking her with his scent and purred. Yes, he was definitely ready to work for his answers.
Chapter Twelve
“So how does one get an audience with the Overseers?” Anthony stopped her heart with that question. She stared at him, scrambling mentally. “And don’t try to placate me. The sun rises in two hours. You will leave me for that gray, lifeless hell.” The growl in the last words betrayed his lack of patience.
But could she blame him? For the last week, they’d fallen into a pattern. Rehearsals for hours, returning to his suite sometimes with just a few precious minutes before the sun rose and the world would fade away from
