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Salazar had thick wavy black hair to his shoulders. He had a menacing look enhanced by the large contingent of oversized, bulked-up vampires that ranged behind the two men in a protective arc.
Once the men were settled, drinks in hand, Eve would lead the way and introduce her, then begin the fashion show by enumerating the lines and unique qualities of each costume.
Claire wondered briefly what supermodels thought about just before they walked down a runway. Probably admonitions not to trip and break an ankle.
“Showtime,” Eve whispered.
Lucian, here goes nothing.
You’ll be great.
Thanks.
Eve moved onto the stage first, a real Amazon in her own pair of stilettos so that she stood close to seven feet tall. Her stride was about a mile long. And talk about presence.
She stopped center stage, but cracked her whip with tremendous precision, hitting neither the pillars on each side of her nor the sheer swags overhead.
Eve made her introduction, welcoming Claire simply as “the auburn beauty.”
Claire took a deep breath and focused on what Eve had said about her natural confidence. Still, she trembled, blinked, and tried to remember exactly how to put one foot in front of the other.
Eve waved her forward, bending her knees and slinking backward, dragging her whip with her.
Then Eve’s voice was suddenly in her head. You’re doing fine.
Talk me through it. Tell me exactly what to do.
Eve told her how many steps to take, when to pivot, where to put her hands, when to dip her knees or slink a little as she moved.
As Claire headed down the runway, she kept following Eve’s directions but couldn’t bring herself to look Arsen or Salazar in the eye.
When she reached the end of the runway, Eve told her to make a very slow turn to be sure both men got an eyeful.
Claire, you’re doing incredibly well and the guards are so focused on you that they won’t feel this train when it hits. Head back toward me, not too fast. Time for costume two.
The next outfit, all black and white crystals, with a choke collar and platforms seven inches tall, became a different kind of trauma. But Eve stuck close, using her whip for effect until Claire got to the top of runway once more.
Good news, Claire. The men have each had three drinks and some of their excitement has given way to that glazed look, more lascivious than alert. We’re almost there.
Claire took her time, giving the whiskey a chance to do its work.
The last outfit, however, freaked her out all over again. “There’s nothing to cover even an inch of my br**sts.”
“Yeah, I debated about this one, but the side panels will push everything together.”
Claire stared at her. “And that makes things better, how?”
Eve shrugged. “Not one of their guards will be looking anywhere but at your assets.”
She focused her attention on Lucian. The vampire needed to be warned. Eve says you’re set to attack as soon as I appear on stage in this third costume, is that right?
Yes. His voice sounded edged-up.
I’m ready but listen, don’t look in my direction. Got it?
Why?
Eve saved the worst for last, and by “the worst” I mean there’s not much there and what is there is pushing things around. Lucian, just don’t look. I’ll get off stage as fast as I can. You have to stay focused. How’s the disguise holding up?
Like a cloak I’ve always worn.
Perfect. Now let’s get us some bad guys.
The music changed, and Eve beckoned for her.
Claire trembled as much from the fact that she was all but na**d as from the knowledge that an attack was about to follow. She focused on the latter, on how important it was to keep the attention of the bad guys focused on her and to sustain the disguise.
Eve’s commands flowed once more through her mind. Claire began to move, slinking and turning, knees bent, back arched, down the runway.
She hoped to hell somebody did something soon because she was ready to bolt as Arsen leaned forward in his seat and shouted, “I need some of that and I need it now.”
As the two vampires started to levitate from their seats, she met Lucian’s gaze. If you’re going to do something, do it now.
* * *
Lucian’s rage flowed hot toward Arsen and Salazar as each levitated toward Claire. His blood boiled and a red hue covered his vision.
Drop the disguise, Claire.
The next moment the wavy violet lines disappeared. Rumy’s team went straight into action as each man shifted to levitated flight and let out a war cry. The guards turned, startled, and a flash of blades ran up and down the line.
Lucian flew faster than he ever had before, landing in front of Arsen, whom he gripped around the neck, then flung off the stage. From his peripheral vision he watched Claire hurry from the stage, Eve with her.
But Salazar, the bigger of the two, had more fight in him. He lowered his arms and shoulders, bending his knees, a knife in his hands.
Lucian drew his own blade from his battle leathers. He circled, watching Salazar’s dark eyes as he turned his blade in his hand. Salazar lunged. Lucian shifted away from the strike, but Salazar’s momentum brought him close. Lucian struck down hard on Salazar’s arm. He heard the snap of bone. Salazar shouted in pain then began to shift to altered flight.
But Lucian caught him midair, preventing his escape, and with his Ancestral power kicking into high gear he threw Salazar against the red-crystal wall to the right of the stage. Dislodged crystals flew everywhere.
The entire theater was alive with battling vampires, but Lucian needed to make sure that he had control of both men. He glanced to his left and saw that Arsen was out cold; one of Rumy’s men stood guard over him, nodding to Lucian.
Turning, Lucian saw that Salazar was rising up quickly. Lucian body-slammed him back into the wall. Salazar’s head connected and a cracking sound ensued. He slid the rest of the way to the floor and fell inert.
Lucian reached down and felt for his pulse. Good. The bastard still lived.
At the same moment he sensed an attack coming from behind him. He went with his instinct and dove out of the way, which sent a bodyguard’s dagger hard into the stone wall of the cave.
Lucian, on the floor, flung his dagger before the vampire had even turned in his direction. He halted mid-flight, dropping to the tile floor, both hands on the hilt of the blade. Lucian took out his thinnest chain, got behind the man, and decapitated him. Blood spurted everywhere.
Killing like this was damn messy work.
He turned and saw that Rumy’s men fought hard. Time to get to work. He whisked one of his long battle chains from his leathers and started the weapon spinning. Using levitated flight, he maneuvered swiftly, up and down then sideways.
