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The vault door in the vestibule unsealed. A vampire appeared and stood with his arms draped over the decorative gate, his unshaven face split by a lecherous grin that made Jackson rise from his chair in alarm.
“Cassidy.” Serge’s baritone voice purred with appreciation. “You ordered takeout.” Unlike his lord and master, who still digested the events of Cassidy’s day, Serge didn’t know what the human was doing there.
“Be nice,” she said. “He comes bearing gifts.”
“Oh, yes, he does.” Serge unlatched the gate and sauntered across the kitchen, barefoot and rumpled, his curly caramel hair sticking out in every direction, the vampire equivalent of a man in search of coffee.
Jackson glared at him. “Sleeping with the boss now? You’ve come up in the world.”
“Sleeping? No. Not I.” Serge puffed out his barrel chest with pride. “I stand guard over my lord.”
His lordship materialized beside Serge and delivered a brotherly slap to the back of his head. “More likelieguard flat on your back,” he said in his lyrical French accent.
Serge growled, much as the cat had earlier. “But I am always with you.”
“I know,” Dominique concurred with a dramatic sigh. “There is no getting rid of you.”
“And you are glad for it, blood-child. Admit it.”
Cassidy smiled at their antics. Tall, lean and grace incarnate, Dominique was the polar opposite of both the stocky Serge and muscle-bound Jackson. Even dressed in his usual exercise pants and T-shirt, both black, few would mistake him for the ordinary man of twenty-seven he had been when he was turned into a blood-drinker. Carved cheekbones and a knife-blade nose dominated his profile, and his expressive mouth could instill terror as easily as convey gentle humor—not to mention bestow mind-blowing kisses.
But it was the eyes that were the most striking thing about him. Their quiet depths missed nothing and could flash from warm and beguiling to full black and disturbing in the space of a heartbeat. Gold flecks danced in the hazel irises as he looked at her.
“Bonjour, mon amour,” he murmured and held out his hand.
“Bonjour,” she said, moving into his embrace.
The world around them fell away, and they stood together in her memories of the sunlight streaming through the foyer. He rubbed the back of her neck with his thumb while she nuzzled into his thick hair, inhaling his heady clean scent that reminded her of an early spring day.
“Indeed. He brings gifts,” Serge said, pulling them back to the moment.
Uh oh,she thought.
His tone had lost its swagger and turned dreamy. It meant he saw “shadows” in the aura of whoever he was looking at, or impressions of the future. When Serge had his visions, disjointed and insubstantial as they were, changes were coming—usually not for the better.
Though Dominique appeared unconcerned, Cassidy felt the tension skitter through him. Neither of them dared to interrupt Serge as he studied Jackson with an intense interest that no longer had anything to do with his warm blood. The human man returned the stare, his hands wrapped over the back of the bar stool as though preparing to pick it up and use it as a weapon.
Serge turned to look at Dominique with a wide, gap-toothed grin of wonder. Then he chuckled with obvious glee.
“Oui?” Dominique prompted. “Did he bring a good gift?”
Serge laughed.
Jackson offered a tentative smile. “I suspect you’ll like it.”
Just like that, Serge stopped laughing.
In a flash, he was by Jackson’s side, his eyes bugging out of their sockets. “Beware the fire,” he whispered in a hiss that made Cassidy’s skin crawl.
Jackson took a hasty step back.
“Beware the fire,” Serge repeated, now looking at Dominique. Then he laughed uproariously and disappeared.
Dominique closed his eyes and struggled for patience.
“What…was that?” Jackson said.
Cassidy rubbed the chill out of her arms. “That was Serge. You remember him, don’t you? The vampire you tried so hard to kill?”
