The words just popped out of her mouth. One of them could escape this curse and go back to their normal lives. They'd been destined to fight it out since he'd walked into her office. And if they fought right away, before Mikhail got weaker, the fight would almost be fair.

"With all due respect, sir, I wish you wouldn't."

"Then you marry him."

"If only I could."

He was joking-and not joking. "Don't ever be telling me you have a crush on the lad."

"Your Irish accent is execrable, sir. And yes, I think I do. I like him a lot."

"Fantastic." Alya buried her face in her hands. "He's seduced you and my cat."

"Faustin was up at first dark, not today, but the night after the rescue. Before I was up. He could scarcely walk, but he was restoring your defenses. He disposed of the bodies. He set everything to rights, not me. And you should see the mods he's made to your security system."

She raised her brow at the idea of Mikhail mucking with her security system, and hitched it higher at the idea Dominick would allow him to do so.

"We'll go over all his changes, of course. But it's not back door stuff. It's just smart."

"So he's a good security man. A good housekeeper, even. I hire useful men. I don't need to marry them."

"He cares about you."

"It's an illusion, don't you see? He has no choice but to want me." After thirty years with a curse gnawing on his brain, he'd do anything to complete the bond. Even fancy himself in love with her.

"But it seems you have a choice in the matter."

"I won't submit to the bond."

"In that case, how do you know he's not exercising choice, too?"

That bit of logic made her brain twist. Her stomach grumbled, making her peevish. "I don't care. I know what I want and what I want is not to be the wife of G.o.dd.a.m.n Mikhail Faustin!"

Dominick clasped his hands behind his back. "Sir, you've always listened to my opinions, which is more than most princes would do. All I'll say, and it will be the last I say on the matter, is that it would be a shame for the two most promising princes in generations to kill one another when there may be alternatives."

"Just suppose I do this. Say I marry him. What are you going to do when House Faustin moves west to claim its new territory? Ah, I know. Perhaps you'll find a role in the civil war that breaks out as a result."

After the wedding, she'd be nothing. In a legal sense, she'd hardly exist. All her property, including her territories, would go to him. The families who'd sworn fealty to her would not be happy about that. Behind closed doors, she'd rea.s.sured several patriarchs she'd never marry before signing treaties with them.

"Perhaps he'll agree to let you keep some-"

"Stop. Listen to yourself. I don't rely on anyone's benevolence."

"A prenup?"

"Human law? Right. That'll hold water. And no matter what he agrees to, he'll be squeezed on all sides by his council, his families, and his own father. Old Faustin is an acquisitive b.a.s.t.a.r.d if there ever was one. I can't give an inch to those people. They hate me too much."

Most of vamp society thought she was a freak, because she didn't live by their rules. But they couldn't deny her existence when she was ripping land right out from under their noses. She was already a legend, the only female prince in three hundred years. If she married, and began to breed Faustins, they'd get the ending for the story they wanted. Once there was this strange girl who called herself a prince, but she married and settled down. It took a Faustin to tame her, but tame her he did.

Dominick said, "He won't fight you. He knows he just has to wait you out."

Alya wasn't worried. She wasn't called the queen of the d.a.m.ned for nothing.

It took a long time for Mikhail to staunch his nose, so long he fell asleep with the ice pack on his face. He woke with a start, his stomach twisting, his head aching. Under normal circ.u.mstances he never napped, but he was running on empty. The longest he'd ever gone without feeding had been a week, but he hadn't been tapped when he did it.

He lifted Lulu off his chest and changed into a black shirt and a black pair of pants, identical to those he'd been wearing before, which were identical to all the other shirts and pants folded in his bag, which were identical to those hanging in his closet at home. Madelena said he had the wardrobe of a morbid obsessive compulsive. He called it functional.

His nose had acquired a decided leftward slant. Grimacing into the mirror, he popped the bone back into place. Better. He washed his face and straightened his collar and cuffs. It was time to continue the conversation, whether Alya liked it or not.

The bond led him straight back to her bedroom. As he neared her door, he stretched his senses, listening for her thoughts or any hint as to her mental state. What he picked up was too muddled to understand, and it didn't begin to prepare him for what he saw when he walked in.

Alya was lying on her bed, splendid in a voluminous crimson robe. Two lithe bodies twined around her. One was the female feeder he'd met the day before. Maya. The other was male. Not Christian Rider, but another of the same type. Alya had her face buried between the girl's full b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The boy was nuzzling between Alya's thighs.

Maya rolled her head his direction, her eyes fogged with pleasure.

Alya turned toward him and smiled. Blood smeared her mouth. She put her hand to the boy's head, stilling him.

"Mikhail," she purred. "Come try a sip. Maya is the sweetest feeder I've ever found. Maybe you'll be able to drink from her."

Impossible. It wasn't possible for her to eat anymore. And why were these creatures in her bed, touching her...

Struggling for control, he made himself speak. Speak instead of explode. "You're not bound?"

"I don't know what I am-" she paused to lick her lips clean, her eyes bright with mockery, "-but I know I'm not going hungry."

No hunger. No leverage. No hope.

In that moment he understood with cold certainty that he'd never win her over. He snapped his fingers at the feeders. "You. You. Out."

They both cringed. Alya gestured for them to stay and left the bed to confront him, equal parts scornful and defiant. Her mind was closed tight, but she knew as well as he did what this meant for them.

In fact, she must have arranged this little viewing for his benefit. "You want me to be the aggressor."

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"d.a.m.n you to h.e.l.l, Alya Adad. I challenge you to a combat before witnesses. Weapons of your choice."

She put her hand to her heart. "But I thought I was your lady love."

Mockery. She was deliberately destroying any possible future for them, and she was laughing as she did it. He backhanded her. The feeder girl shrieked. The bedroom lights flickered.

"You disgust me," he said. Killing Alya would violate all the laws of love and nature. And he looked forward to it with all his heart.

The blow staggered her, but she didn't return it. She didn't say anything, either. Just closed her red robe tightly around her throat.

Mikhail growled through locked teeth, "Give me your throat or name your second."

Ghastly pale, she raised her chin. "Dominick, of course."

"Gregor will second me. There will be no retaliation from my family if you should win. I'd like to do it as soon as he can fly in from New York. Do you need more time than that?"

"Oh no. I'm quite at your convenience."

They exchanged bows.

The moment Mikhail left, Alya bolted to the toilet and vomited until she thought she'd damage herself. The regurgitated blood scalded her throat and tongue like vitriol. It didn't hurt half as much as her conscience.

Jared retreated downstairs, but Maya stayed with her, holding her hair out of the way during the worst of it, and staying to dab her face with a damp cloth. "Poor Alya! What's wrong?"

Alya fought a bad case of the shakes. "Nothing, love. Just something I ate. I'll be better soon."

Mikhail stalked into the garden. He visited the place he'd pinned her down and sucked the honey from her veins. He should have drained her then and there and saved himself a lot of trouble.

Coming into this, he knew her character. He knew she could not be made into a wife. If he'd followed his common sense he would have finished her off that night. But he'd followed his so-called heart, only to end up at the same place but with worse odds.

Reaching up, he grabbed a stout branch of her old olive tree and swung up among branches bobbing with unripe fruit. Trees calmed him. Always had. He had several favorites in Central Park, but he'd never sat in an olive before. Resting his back against the trunk, he called his family. Gregor first, not only because he was his second, but because Gregor could be trusted to be pragmatic. Alex would be worried. His parents, disappointed.

"I knew it," Gregor said when he'd told him. "I knew all that 'gift of the angels' talk from Ma was c.r.a.p. The woman is a freak."

"Alya's no more a freak than me."

Gregor heard the threat in his voice and backed down. "Okay. Whatever. The challenge is on the table. How strong is she?"

Mikhail rolled a velvety green olive between his fingers. "She's ex'd six princes. That I know of. Halverson two nights ago."

"Halverson? What was he doing in LA?"

"I'll explain later. Point is she's amazingly strong. Fast too."

"But you've got height on her, and weight. Longer reach."

More to the point, this time he'd honestly be trying to kill her. She hadn't seen him determined yet, so she'd be overconfident. Still.

"I'm fasting. She's still eating. We have to do this before I get much weaker."

"Understood. I'll be there at sundown tomorrow."

"Good."

"What are the weapons?"

"She's choosing. Her second is named Dominick. I'll get you his number."

He heard Madelena's voice complaining in the background. Gregor m.u.f.fled the phone, then said, "Maddy says she has to talk to you."

Mikhail rolled his eyes. He'd ask Gregor not to give the phone to her, but he knew Gregor couldn't refuse his wife anything.

Maddy said, "Talk to me."

"Talk?"

"Talk. It's when you open your mouth and let other people know what you're thinking. Tell me what's going on. Tell me how you feel."

Feel? At this point all that mattered were facts. "She's fed from me, but isn't bound. And she's made it clear she doesn't want anything to do with me. It's hopeless. Only one of us can live now, and I'm going to kill her to get my life back."

"Wait. Just wait. Something is wrong. That woman could not taste you and remain unmoved. I promise. Your blood ran through me when I was on that hospital table. I've never told you, but I do remember every moment of it. I know you inside and out, Mikhail Faustin. You're a good man. She'd have to be crazy-"

"It meant nothing to her."

"That's complete bulls.h.i.t. She's your destined bride. Your blood should mean everything to her. You should mean everything to her. She's lying to you, pretending she doesn't like you when she really does."

"This isn't high school. I've just offered her a formal challenge. She's accepted. That means she'd rather die than be with me. That's not ambiguous."

"Something's up. Count on it."

Mikhail grunted. She'd had her chance. He'd given her everything, up to and including his life, and it wasn't enough for her and he was tired of playing her games.

Madelena's voice tugged him back to the moment. "...sure everyone hates her, but everyone hated Catherine the Great and Cleopatra, too. You and your brothers are pretty open minded, but you know vamp society isn't exactly progressive-"

"I have to go."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"No. Absolutely not. I forbid it."

"Mikhail, I have to. You sound like you need a hug."

Chapter Twelve.

The feeder, Maya, stopped him before he got in the cab.

"Where are you going?"

"I left a note for your mistress." It was inappropriate for him to stay in the house before the challenge-and intolerable.

"But she wants to talk to you. She sent me to find you." The girl's doe eyes were guileless, but he'd just seen her writhing under Alya's mouth. Even though she was just a feeder, he hated her.

But she was brave, because he knew his dislike showed on his face, but she took his hand anyway and said, "Come. Please."

He told the driver to wait and the girl led him through the house to a door padded in burgundy leather and studded with bra.s.s tacks. It led to the cellar. He knew that from studying the house plans. The cellar would be the most secure room in the house, light proof, defensible. Mikhail nodded to himself in approval. Considering the likelihood of retaliation for the slaughter of the Halversons by the Northern families, she would be smart to conduct her business in a safe place. But there was one problem-she wasn't down there. He could tell.

"She's not down there. She's..." He spun on his heel like a compa.s.s needle and pointed to the northwest corner of the house. Upstairs.