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“Is that right?” I ask, moving closer to them. They’re tall, but not as tall as Ambrose. As if thinking of him conjured him, my skin prickles with awareness. Peering over the brutish vampire’s shoulder, I see the narrowed gaze of the vampire king. His golden eyes meet mine and I wink. His shoulders loosen, and he leans against the mezzanine railing with idle curiosity replacing the irritation in his eyes.
“Sure is, sweetness,” the brute growls and puts his meaty hand on my hip. I look down at it in distaste before leaning closer to his ear, making sure the shifter leans in to hear me as well. Ambrose is snarling, glaring at the vampire’s hand.
“Unfortunately for you, I have plans for this evening. And I doubt you can give me half as enjoyable a time as he can.” As I say the last bit, my eyes find Ambrose’s once more and my stomach warms with the promise in my words.
The brute snorts and squeezes my hip. “Ya sure about that? What’s his name, maybe we know him?”
I pull back and pinch his thick finger to pull it off of me, my nose scrunched. “Oh, you absolutely do know him.” I cock my head and look between them. “Why would I settle for two mangy street curs when the king is waiting oh, so, patiently for me?”
They both freeze, their muscles tensing, before the shifter lets out a nervous laugh. “No fuckin’ way the king is botherin’ himself with a human chick like you.”
Rather than be insulted, I put a hand on one of their shoulders each and push. This time they fall apart as if I have the same strength as Malachi. As I step between and past them, I look over my shoulder.
“Bothering? No,” I say. “Supplicating? Absolutely.”
I stalk towards Ambrose, who hasn’t moved from his spot at the rail, ignoring the disbelief coming from the two men behind me. My vampire looks at ease leaning against the rail, ignoring the males and only having eyes for me. When I stop just in front of him, his eyes don’t have any sign of red but there’s a hunger there. Hunger that burns me, and drives my own higher.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” I say, knowing we still have the attention of the other two males. I hold Ambrose’s gaze, challenging him, as I offer my hand to him. Will he make an example out of me in front of these two peons and make me submit or will he indulge me in my display, letting me maintain the power I’ve claimed?
“Never, ma lionne,” Ambrose says with a toe-curling purr and takes my hand, dipping his head to press a kiss and nip to my fingertips. “Shall we?”
I nod once, and as he holds my hand as if we are at court in the sixteenth century, I look back at the males, only to laugh when I see they’ve disappeared.
“Riffraff should recognize royalty when it nears them,” Ambrose whispers in my ear, his sensuous voice somehow drowning out the overwhelming music. He steps behind me, still keeping my hand in his, and wraps his other arm around my waist, pressing his front to my back. Molten lava pours between us and the hard length of him presses into me.
“Did you like watching that?” I ask, tilting my head to the side, arching my neck for his gaze.
Ambrose takes the offer, running his lips up the column of my neck, the barest scrape of his fangs making my knees weak. “Absolutely.” Ambrose nips the bottom of my ear, and I moan. “Watching you act like the queen you should be is now the second favorite thing I’ve seen.”
I twist in his arms, only enough to meet his gaze as he holds me with insurmountable strength. “The second favorite?”
The grin that spreads across Ambrose’s mouth is lewd and perverse. “Oh, yes. Watching you shatter in pleasure against my mouth is absolutely my favorite.”
The damn vampire pulls back, walking me the last few steps to the booth. “Mr. Garner and I have nearly concluded our business,” he says, his gaze going to the politician already seated. Surprised, I raise my brows and the man raises a half-filled tumbler in salutation.
“Eloise,” he greets and at my confusion, he takes a long sip as I sit. Ambrose slides in after me, his arm coming around my shoulders and pulling me close. “I remembered where I’d seen you before. A reporter interviewed me a month or so back, a Desiree—Denise—”
I don’t realize I’m gripping Ambrose’s thigh until his hand covers mine. “Deidre.”
Michael Garner uses his tumbler to point at me, his face open with recognition. “Deidre! Yes. She was asking about my plans for community support in the Barrows. We got on the topic of her, and she showed me a picture of the two of you.” He finishes his drink and slides out of the booth. “If you see her again, tell her hi from me. I always like having reporters as friends. Ambrose.”
Not waiting for Michael to be out of sight, I turn towards Ambrose with wide eyes, heart in my ears. He presses a finger against my lips, stilling my questions, and glances towards the retreating politician. Stomach twisting from Michael’s comments about Deidre, I try to keep the questions from erupting. After an eternity, which was likely no more than a few seconds, Ambrose drops his finger.
“He knows Deidre—”
“I know,” Ambrose says, his face close to mine so I can hear. My fingers dig into his thigh again, urging him to continue. “He’s more involved with her abduction than we first believed.” When I try to stand, my thighs hitting the underside of the table and rocking it, Ambrose grabs me by the shoulders and forces me back down. “I’m handling it, Eloise. He may be a rising star of Topside politicians, but he will not go unpunished for Deidre or his other transgressions. Can you trust me?”
I chew my lip, searching Ambrose’s face. With the strobe lighting, I only see him clearly in quick flashes but what I can see tells me he isn’t lying. I nod, looking down at the table as I try to force the anxiety from my stomach. He releases me, but leaves a hand on my back, rubbing comforting circles there. It doesn’t take long for my body’s natural response to this man to replace the anxiety with a different type of nerves.
“Do you want a drink?” he asks, a lock of dark hair falling out of place. I reach up and smooth it back into place before tracing his sharp jaw with my fingertips. How I ever thought I could resist the pull Ambrose creates in me, I have no idea. Right now, I don’t want to resist it. I don’t want a drink and I don’t want to dance.
Leaning forward, I brush my lips against his in a ghost of a kiss before moving to his ear. “I want you, Ambrose.”
Chapter Nineteen
Ambrose
Ibarely stop myself from sweeping Eloise into my arms and racing through the crowded dance floor. Instead, I settle for holding onto her hand and charging through it like a madman. If the dancers had swayed and flowed out of Malachi’s way, they’re racing and leaping out of mine. When one dancer doesn’t move fast enough, I grab him by the shoulder and fling him to the side with a snarl.
