And she'd give him some grief about it. Nerves made her wander over to the window and open the blinds. "Does he sleep all day, or can I speak with him?"

"Master Lucan is not available."

So he slept all day. Sam looked down at the parking lot to see if Burke had left her car in front of her building, which he had.

Next to it someone had parked an unfamiliar blue sedan backward so that the windshield faced her building. She could see a man sitting behind the wheel and pointing a telephoto lens at the window of her apartment. "Can I leave him a message?"

"No, madam," Burke said. "The master does not wish to speak to you, and I have been instructed to inform you that you are no longer welcome here."

Sam thought she heard him wrong. "Could you repeat that, please?"

"The master regrets that you were caught up in Kyn business," Burke said, as if reading it from notes. "He is grateful for the assistance you provided, but no longer wishes your involvement. He wishes you good health and happiness."

I hope one day someone gives you what you really need, Samantha, and takes it away from you the minute you start enjoying it.

Keri wasn't getting her wish. "Put Master Lucan on the damn phone."

Burke smothered a cough. "I cannot, Detective. He does not wish to speak to you."

"What if I come down there and drag his ass out of his coffin?" Sam suggested. "Will he speak to me then?"

"The master does not sleep in a coffin," Burke told her. "If you come here, you will not be admitted to the premises."Sam couldn't believe it. He was ditching her like a one-night stand? After everything they'd been through together? "Your master is still a suspect in two murders that I'm investigating."

"You are not on active duty, Detective, and those cases have been reassigned." Burke's voice went low and cautious. "The situation has become too dangerous for human involvement. It would be best for you if you forgot what happened last night."

"What situation?" Sam demanded. "Burke, what is going on?"

"I have no further information for you, madam. Good day." Burke hung up.

Sam stared at the phone, and then back at the man taking pictures of her. He had put down the camera and was pulling out of the parking space, and as he turned to leave the complex, she got a clear look at the side of his face. It seemed that Wesley Dwyer was stalking her again.

Cake, she thought dully. Iced.

Lucan walked into his office and overheard the last of what Burke said before he hung up the phone. "For whom do you have no further information?"

His tresora looked up at him. "That was Detective Brown, master."

He had showered twice to remove every trace of Samantha's scent from his skin, and yet hearing her name filled his head with her dark perfume again. After she had fallen asleep in his arms, he had summoned Burke to take her home. She had been so exhausted that she had not woken when he had put her in his tresora's arms.

"She is well?" he tried to ask casually, thinking of the windows.

"She seems fully recovered. I related your instructions and wishes to her." For the first time since coming to serve him, Burke didn't sound particularly afraid of him. "She was upset."

Samantha had given herself to him, and he had rejected her as harshly as he could. She had the right to be upset. "There is a change to the program for tomorrow night's concert. The performance artist will not be torturing herself for our patrons. Call Alisa and tell her I require her services for the show."

"Will she be replacing the artist, master?"

"No. Alexandra Keller will."

Lucan went out to the empty bar and sat down in front of the small stage upon which the club's Friday- and Saturday-night bands played. It was hardly large enough for his purposes-Carnegie Hall would be more fitting-but he would make do. He had only to create an illusion for his guests, one that would provoke the necessary response.

As he had with Samantha. As he had with Frances.

Lucan had left Frances in Rome with her dying lover, and gone back to his duties to Richard, and pretended to forget about her for the next forty years. For his own amusement-or so he told himself-he had her kept under close watch. She had never remarried or taken a lover, but devoted herself to raising her child. Toward the end of her life, when her son had left England to seek his fortune in America, she sold most of her belongings and retired alone to a tiny country cottage, where she grew flowers and walked the moors alone.

Business for Richard brought him to that part of the world once, and Lucan had made the mistake of going to see her.

She had recognized him as soon as she unlatched the door. "My lord darkness." She did not seem at all surprised to see him. Instead of inviting him in, she stepped outside. "Let us take a turn through my gardens."

Frances had always been able to coax the most amazing things from the dark earth, but as he strolled with her down the narrow aisles of grass between her flower beds, he looked down at her. She had aged, her hair silver and wrinkles marring the fine skin around her eyes, but she was still as slender and straight as the fierce young woman he had left with her dying lover in Rome.

"Why have you never come for me?" she asked. "I expected you to. I would not have resisted long, I think."

Lucan had a thousand scalding retorts prepared. He heard himself tell her the truth instead. "The boy. He deserved a mother to care for him."

She paused and looked up at him. "As yours never cared for you."

"Yes."

Frances nodded. "I will thank you for my son, then, sir."

He forced himself to apologize for the one wrong that still haunted him. "I regret that I left you in Rome. You should not have had to watch him die alone. I should have arranged a companion for you."

"It happened a few days after you left, while I was out at market buying more candles. By the time I returned, they had already removed his body." She walked a little farther, then slowed and sighed. "You do well to avoid old age. My rheumatism keeps me on a short leash."

Lucan had escorted her back to her cottage, but refused her invitation to tea. "I must go. Is there anything you need? Funds, a housemaid, better lodgings? You have only to say." He looked around the tiny house with disdain. "I would be delighted to arrange it for you."

Frances smiled and shook her head. "Your last gift to me was all that I could ever wish."

"My last gift?"

"You let me go, my lord." She folded her hands in front of her like a young girl. "My life may not seem grand to you, but it has been a good one. I have been happy. I have been loved. I have watched my son grow to be a fine man. And soon I will be with his father again."

"I could have given you so much more, if only you had come with me," he heard himself say. He reached out to touch her cheek with his gloved hand. "You are the only woman I have ever loved, Frances."

"I know. That is why your gift was so precious to me. Goodbye, my lord." Gently she closed the door in his face.

Lucan had stood there, one hand against the wooden barrier that separated him from Frances, for what seemed like forever.

She never came to the window to look out. She never opened the door again.

The next day, after he had executed ah inquisitor responsible for the deaths of five Kyn in Canterbury, he received word that Frances had hanged herself in her pretty little cottage the same night he had gone to see her. He waited until she had been buried before he sought out her grave. He placed a single white lily atop it, along with what was left of his heart, and walked away from her for the last time.

The sound of Rafael's voice interrupted his reverie, and he looked over to see that his seneschal and a small group of humans had gathered at the front of the club.

Rafael was issuing orders to the guards to station themselves at various points around the building and the entire block. When the men dispersed, Lucan called him over.Rafael came to him. "My lord."

"I assume you were successful."

"We were, my lord. I took the liberty of installing Dr. Keller in the safe room." He set down the case he was carrying and checked his watch. "The last dose of sedative I gave her should be wearing off now. Should I use more to keep her unconscious?"

"I will wake our Sleeping Beauty." Lucan turned on his heel. "Arrange a Kyn nurse for our guest. She will need to be fed by IV.".

"She will be more compliant if you starve her."

Lucan glanced back and saw the contempt on his seneschal's face. "If you wish to be released from my service, Rafael, you have but to say, and I will set you free. You have made your place among humans. I would not deprive you of the joys of serving them."

"My place is at your side. My duty is to advise you." He removed one of the copper daggers he carried and placed it on a table. "She is blameless in this thing between you and Cyprien. If you mean to kill her, do not cause her to suffer first. Give her the dignity of a clean and merciful death. You can say whatever you wish to him; he will never know how she died."

"She carves the very heart from your chest with those eyes, doesn't she?" Lucan smiled as his seneschal flinched. "Don't be offended. I nearly stole her from him in New Orleans, just so I could keep her for myself and wallow in her light. Get the nurse."

He went up to the floor below his suites, where the offices had been renovated to serve various functions. Rafael had placed Alexandra Keller in the safe room, a suite that had been reinforced to contain the most unwilling of guests.

Lucan checked the room's security monitor and saw Cyprien's sygkenis on the wide, comfortable bed before he released Kyn- proof bolts on the outer door. Inside, her lavender scent perfumed the cool air, drawing him into the master bedroom to look down at her unconscious form. She wore a short negligee and a diaphanous robe in a shade of peach that complemented the sun-kissed golden bloom of her flawless skin. Rafael had taken the additional precaution of chaining her to the bed with copper, he noted, but had protected her wrists and ankles by lining the manacles with flannel padding.

"Sleeping Beauty, indeed," he murmured, using his finger to dislodge a curl of hair that had tangled with her long dark eye- lashes. Fangs flashed, and Lucan barely had time to pull his hand away before Alexandra sank her sharp teeth into them. "Good morning, Doctor. I trust you slept well?"

"Bite my ass."

"I should be happy to." Ah, she was beautiful when she snarled. "Roll over."

Chains rattled as she strained against her bonds. "Let me out of these fucking things."

"I would like nothing better," he assured her, "but I must insist you stay as you are for the time being."

She stopped jerking on the chains and glared up at him. "This has got to be the stupidest thing you've ever done."

He thought of Samantha, naked and willing under his bare hands, and his smile faded. "Not quite."

"Cyprien will be back by now. Your walking lightbulb didn't kill everyone. Phillipe saw him, and will tell Michael what happened, and he'll come for me. He'll bring the whole freaking vampire army with him, too. But that's what you want." She peered at him. "Can't you guys just kiss and make up?""Your master has taken everything from me that I ever wanted." He sat down on the side of the bed, keeping just out of her reach. "Now he will experience firsthand what that feels like."

"Another vampire pissing contest. Marvelous." She looked at the copper bars on the window. "So he comes here and you two battle it out until someone dies. Is that the plan?"

He ran his glove along her bare leg. She had very shapely legs, and arched, dainty feet. "You could choose to stay with me of your own volition."

"Oh, yeah, I'm going to do that." She laughed.

"Sacrificing yourself for the one you love is such a noble thing." He traced the spaces between her toes, admiring her pink- polished toenails. "I wouldn't kill him if you became my woman."

She jerked her leg away as far as the chains would allow. "Now? You're dreaming."

"I'm not the monster you think I am, Alexandra." Here was a solution to both of his problems. He could rid himself of his inconvenient longing for Samantha and strike a crippling blow to Cyprien at the same time. "Think of all the lives you would save."

"I'd rather screw a snake, thanks." She bit her lip as he climbed over her and settled himself on top of her. "Lucan, wait. Wait."

"I have, my dear. Two hundred years and better."

Alexandra was smaller than Samantha, more delicately made. Her scent was softer, rather sweeter than he had expected, but it suited her. He could see why Cyprien had taken so many risks to take and keep her. She was the kind of woman a man would gladly gamble his life to have and to hold. In fact, he was counting on it.

"Don't do this," she said, turning her face away from his when he came closer. "You can't ever take it back."

"I should hope not." He pinned her manacled wrists on either side of her head, and bent to put his mouth to her throat.

Chapter 20.

Richard Tremayne, high lord of the Darkyn, walked through the empty private airport terminal and out to the waiting car. He was well aware that this was likely to be his last journey away from Ireland, so he took his time, enjoying the warmth of the tropical night air, and the sight of palm trees silhouetted against the moonlight sky.

Paradise.

This trip had cost him dearly-buying out every chartered flight scheduled to land at the small commercial airport within two hours of the arrival of his private jet had been only one of many expenditures involved-but he allowed himself so few amusements that he did not count the expense. He had been working diligently to orchestrate certain matters so that his two prodigal sons would be properly positioned and motivated to engage in their final battle. That they had anticipated him was simply the universe agreeing with his logic. Whoever prevailed would be worthy to lead the Kyn, and Richard would at long last be shed of the last of his responsibilities.

Only the strong survive.

The driver took him to the private oceanfront estate owned by an international rock star presently on tour in Europe. To Richard's eyes, which had admired centuries of some of the world's greatest architecture, the sprawling contemporary villa had as much aesthetic appeal as a refugee camp. His choice of lodgings was unhappily limited to that which provided adequate security, and the only other privately owned domicile that met those standards and was available for short-term lease was located one hundred miles to the north.

His tresora, eliane Selvais, waited patiently at the top of the winding drive. She dismissed the driver and escorted Richard into the house. "Your trip was uneventful, my lord?"

"As ever." He viewed with distaste the cacophony of modern furnishings that crowded each room. "Is there somewhere we can sit that does not celebrate the triumph of idiots over art?"

eliane opened the doors to a small library. Although most of the books were devoted to modern music, something Richard often compared to recorded bouts of public flatulence, the furnishings were more traditional leather and wood, and did not attempt to illustrate the entire spectrum of the rainbow.

His tresora first brought him a glass of bloodwine, then sat with her legs crossed at the ankle with a notepad waiting in hand.

eliane's cold, pale blond beauty infuriated Richard's wife, Elizabeth, whose carefully cultivated facade of gold seemed brassy in comparison. It had nothing to do with Richard's relationship with his tresora, naturally. Elizabeth's real hatred came from being made to remain in Ireland while eliane was permitted to travel with Richard all over the world. Still, aside from a few petty indignities she occasionally inflicted on his patient tresora, Elizabeth did not protest her usurper. She had not tolerated Richard all these years only to relinquish her portion of his kingdom to avenge herself on a pretty human servant.

Richard did not remove his mask. To drink the wine and look upon eliane without impediment was tempting, but his beast had been caged inside an airplane for twelve hours. "Tell me what has happened since I left Dundellan Castle."

His tresora consulted her notes. "Faryl Paviere attacked Lucan last night near his nightclub. Both were wounded slightly, and two Kyn guards were killed, but Faryl managed to escape by water. The seigneur is searching the swamps with Gard Paviere and has yet to return. He does not yet know that Lucan's seneschal abducted Dr. Keller."

Richard nodded. "Where is Dr. Keller?"

"She is being held captive inside Lucan's household. The last report indicates she is still alive." eliane looked up at his empty glass. "Do you wish to feed, my lord?"

"Not now." He would have to temper his hunger before he indulged it; feeding had become, like almost everything else, a dangerous business for him of late. "Lucan will not kill the doctor unless it serves his purpose. Michael presents the immediate problem."

His tresora's nose wrinkled. "She is his sygkenis. He will never forgive the suzerain for taking her."

"Which is precisely why Lucan took her." Richard felt the itch of desire, always stirred by bloodwine, and beckoned to eliane.

She set aside her notepad and came to stand before him. "We must prevent my children from slaughtering everyone around them as they settle this thing." He watched her strip down to her skin, appreciating the perfection of her body and her self- discipline. "On your back, if you please."