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“Call me Silver Rose,” said the thrall dancing with me.
I learned she was from Quebec City, but she’d moved to Montreal for the clubs.
“And the vampires,” she added with a suggestive rub of her breasts against my tux.
I smiled down at her, only half-listening. Zoe was dancing now, too, this time with a dark-haired vampire.
Silver Rose caught the direction of my glance. “I heard the princess is choosing a mate tonight.”
My grip tightened on her. “Princess Zoe?”
The thrall’s throat worked. She tried to pull back, but I kept her close.
“Answer me.”
A quick, nervous nod. “You didn’t know? Everybody’s talking about it.”
I forced my fingers to loosen. “I heard something,” I lied. “I didn’t know it was set for tonight.”
“That’s what I heard.”
A black fury blanked out my vision. Zoe was taking a mate? Over my dead body.
I gave myself a shake, reminding myself why I was here—to find out what the Tremblays knew about Zaq’s kidnapping. Not for a do-over with Zoe.
Around me, the crowd had grown larger, louder. The air conditioning pumped out icy air, but it struggled with the heat of so many human bodies. The emotions of a hundred horny thralls scraped at my skin.
Silver Rose pressed her lips to my jaw. “You seem on edge. I could help you with that.”
I focused on the thrall. Maybe she was right. I wasn’t doing Zaquiel any good in this state. Hell, I could barely form a coherent thought beneath the steady drum of the blood hunger.
Feed. Feed. Feed.
My nape tingled. My head swung around.
Zoe was dancing with Étan now. She stared at me over his shoulder, forehead puckered.
Like she could see through my glamour.
7
ZOE
Rafe Kral was here. In the chateau.
My slow-beating heart jolted into a faster, almost-human rhythm.
I dragged my gaze away from him and forced myself to focus on Étan.
It couldn’t be. I must be imagining it.
I chanced another look.
He’d made an attempt at a glamour. His hair was longer and streaked blond, and his face different enough—shorter nose, weaker chin, thinner lips—that your gaze slid past him. But it was him all right.
How in the Lady’s name had he gotten through security? Even if he’d somehow forged an invitation and managed to finesse the password, the men at the door should’ve seen through the glamour. It was like a gauzy veil laid over his sculpted, Greek-god features.
Yet no one but me seemed to see through it. Victorine was cheek-to-cheek with her current favorite thrall. Lainey was being fed chocolate-covered strawberries by Olivier, unaware that #darkangel was dancing a few yards away from her.
