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A moment later Rumy called to alert him that Salazar and Arsen, along with a detail of two dozen of their best, had left the compound and would arrive in the next few minutes.
“Get your men over here.”
“They’re already on their way.”
He let Eve and Claire know the ETA and asked that Claire come to the stage to create her disguise.
When Rumy’s team started arriving, he had them line up at the back of the theater to the left of the double doors. Without Claire’s disguising ability, the plan wouldn’t work, not even a little, since the theater had no place for Rumy’s detail to hide.
Rumy chose to stay out of the fray. He wasn’t a warrior, and he didn’t want to inadvertently alert either Arsen or Salazar that anything else was going on besides a simple fashion show followed by a would-be auction. He’d also provided wait staff to serve drinks, two vampires who also belonged to his security detail, but who were short like him and knew how to carry off a servant’s attitude. When the fighting started, these men would join in.
When Claire arrived on stage, she looked ill at ease in the tall stilettos, though he wasn’t surprised. He was, however, thankful that she still wore the robe.
Time to set up the disguise.
Okay. Then she smiled. Let’s get this party started.
He smiled in return, his chest swelling as he watched her straighten her spine. He felt her nerves, which only made him all the more proud of her for doing what he knew to be way outside her comfort zone.
Lucian turned and explained the situation to Rumy’s men: From this point forward the security detail was to remain at attention and in place. Only when Lucian gave the signal could the men move. Claire heard his directives at the same time. Though she’d be able to see all of the men, Salazar and Arsen, as well as their guards, would have no idea what awaited them.
Rumy didn’t allow guns of any kind in The Erotic Passage, and Salazar’s men would have to go through an initial security check. But all that meant was that the weapons of choice would be a variety of switchblades, daggers, and battle chains.
He watched Claire close her eyes. His double-chain sang at his neck, and the next moment a violet wave flowed in his direction. He stood in front of the ranks, at a central point, then glanced left and right, watching as the disguise covered them all. He could see through what looked like a wave of violet streamers. The men glanced at one another, brows raised, then resumed their positions. Rumy had trained them well.
* * *
Claire stood behind a screen and peeled herself out of her robe. Her fingers shook. She tried to calm herself down, but it was a struggle. How could she do this?
The music was already blaring and a video set up showed the theater to everyone backstage. She saw the wait staff, just a couple of men in what looked like leather pants, white collars with black bow ties, and bare chests. Chippendales came to mind.
Eve helped a lot, though. She just kept laughing at Claire’s nerves and said, “Hey, if you’re shaking out there, they’ll love it. They like their women scared to death—death of course being the goddamn operative word. Bastards.”
The first costume was made up of a few straps of sequined hot-pink reinforced spandex that ended up conforming to her body like a glove. Naturally the one-piece had a thong, and a strange one-inch hot-pink ruffle at her waist that just reached to the top of her ass-crack. It covered nothing, but then again, that was the point.
In front, another tiny ruffle ran in a slight curve at her abdomen. At least that part of her was covered, though not by much. The cut was French-high so that the straps ran across her pelvic bones, then split at the waist to rise to a strap across her back in support of a bra-like structure in front.
There wasn’t very much fabric in front, just enough to cover her ni**les.
When she stepped out from behind the screen, Eve clapped her hands. “Beautiful. I think we’re ready. Now just try to relax.” She left the room, taking the last of her people with her.
But she couldn’t. She shook from head to foot.
Then suddenly Lucian was right there. “I could feel you trembling like a leaf.”
Claire had never been so glad to see him. He was exactly what she needed right now. “Look at this.” She held out her hands, her fingers shaking.
She gestured down at the costume, but she’d forgotten the other side of the coin—how Lucian would feel seeing her dressed this way.
He seemed to freeze, his gaze taking the same long journey as when he’d first seen her at the photo shoot. He shook his head side-to-side repeatedly. She felt the war within him start: desire, refusal, desire, anger, desire, need-to-punch-something.
She plastered herself against his chest. I need your courage, Lucian. I’m trying here, but I’m scared to death and what Eve takes for granted, what is so easy for her, is like lava on my skin.
Slowly, his arms went around her, enfolding her as his desire-rage combo slid away. She felt him shift his focus to her. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you.
It feels impossible. I’m not quitting. It just feels bigger than me right now.
I know what you mean, but you can do this. His chest rose as he took in a deep breath. We’ll both get through this. When we have those bastards, it will be worth it. You’ll see.
Okay. I’ll toughen up here, but thank you for coming to me. I just needed to take a moment.
I know. It’s okay.
When she’d recovered, she spoke against his chest. “Listen. I want you to just leave. Don’t look at me, okay?”
“Okay, but I have one problem here.”
“What’s that?”
Lucian frowned slightly. “I won’t be able to see the men at the back of the room. Can you guide me back in?”
“I’ll do better than that.” She walked him out to the stage and rolled back just the central portion of the disguise. He flew quickly. The moment he took his place and nodded to her, she sealed up the disguise.
Eve waved her off stage, a panicky look on her face. “They’re coming.”
“Oh, God.”
Eve led her to the side stage and whispered, “You have great presence, Claire, even if you don’t know it. You have a natural confidence that I admire like hell. Focus on that for the next half hour.” She slid her hand through a slit in the stage draperies. “Oh, and the boys have arrived. Arsen’s wearing a yellow silk suit. He looks like Tweety Bird, you know, from the cartoons?”
Claire smiled. “Well, that helps a lot.” When Eve waved her forward, Claire moved closer so that she could see these vile traffickers. Eve was right. Arsen wore yellow head-to-toe. He was also blond, which made his whole ensemble a bit of overkill.
