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He smiled slowly. “I like to watch.”

“Dirty, dirty boy.” She winked and slid a hand over her breast. His whole body twitched as she rolled her thumb back and forth over it until it puckered. “Okay, if you like to watch. I’ll make sure it’s a show.”

She stepped under the water and left the door open. She took her time rubbing the water onto her skin. Eventually, she added soap, and when the washcloth glided up between her thighs, he launched off the wall and into the shower.

Scooping her up, he pressed her flat against the wall and claimed her mouth, thrusting into her in the same motion. Her laughter rang into his ears, and he let himself drown in her touch.

Thirty minutes later, he helped her into her dress and laid a kiss against her shoulder. “I love you, Kristina. Please don’t forget that.”

“I love you too.” Her easy declaration made his soul sing. “I may not remember where we met or all the years we spent together or even how I ended up here…but I know I love you. I won’t give up on us.”

He kissed her, slow and soft, and gentle, but when she pulled away, he let her go. He prowled after her as she walked out to the sitting room and reclaimed her shoes, shadowing her all the way to the door. The sun would rise soon—he could feel it in his blood. Another long, slow kiss at the door and he wanted to bolt it shut, but he forced himself to open it. Anton and David waited patiently along with her guardian.

He crushed the door handle as he watched her walk into the elevator. The doors closed on her winsome smile, and his faded.

“David. Find the Overseers—any of them. I want a meeting. Now.” David headed for the elevator immediately. Richard glanced at the other guard. “Anton, who do we have on the ground here?”

“A few contacts, but Sobrit’s cousins live here. And they are always reliable sources of intel.”

“Good, reach out to them. I want to know everything Andrew has done for the last few decades. What business deals is he into, where his political interests are…everything.”

“As you wish.” Anton bowed his head and paused to glance at the door. “I will have that repaired immediately.”

Richard waved him off and walked back into the suite. Picking up the phone, the trace of glitter on his hand surprised him. She may have retreated, but everywhere she touched his life—it was a brighter place for it. Clenching the hand into a fist, he dialed New York and ignored Malcolm’s annoyed “yes” when he answered the phone. “The Prince of Las Vegas is up to something. I want you to find out what.”

“Okay.” Malcolm yawned. “Have you—are you and Kristina…?”

“Together, but not. You challenged the Overseers to a game for your bride. What other leverage do we have?”

“Not much. But I’ll find something.”

“Be quick. I have one night left and I will not lose her again.”

Chapter Eight

Kiki raced after the butterflies, chasing them up the hill. At the crest, she halted and stared at the verdant valley below. The sun danced low on the horizon, not quite setting. But the shadow of clouds overhead kept the light at bay. She loved the isle, the tropical breezes, the white sands, the warm water and the colorful villages nestled into the hills. The natives were sweet, always welcoming and they didn’t bar their doors against the strangers. Richard took over the island easily upon their arrival, and they welcomed the European lord with great fanfare.

She considered the position of the sun, the fingertips of light stretching over the valley below. She could outrun them, dance between the beams or she could sit here and wait patiently for the sun to completely sink below the horizon. But if she did that, she would be late for supper, and Richard would know for certain she’d snuck out to play in the rain. Her damp clothing clung to her, but she didn’t care. The best part of the isle was the heavy storms that rolled in every afternoon and provided her a respite from their manor house. She could play in the woods and dance in the rain.

Decided, she raced down the hill. Her bare feet slipping and sliding on the damp earth didn’t cause her to slow her pace. She played with the sun, chasing around its burning edges, hugging village huts and darting from shadow to shadow. Over the high walls she leapt, hissing only once as the sun scorched the back of her neck. The burn hurt, but she made it, and the scalded skin would heal.

Still giggling, she skipped up the thick, tree-lined drive to the main house, but her laughter failed as Richard stepped out onto the porch. His dark and forbidding expression chastised her more loudly than any words.

“I know.” She trailed mud up onto the porch as she padded toward him. “But it was so beautiful, and you should have seen the rainbows after the storm.” She threw her arms around him, uncaring of the water dripping off of her or the expense of his billowy shirt and fine linens. “And I would have waited for full sunset, but there’s a party tonight…”

“We have to go to London, my love.” Her happiness deflated in one single instant.

“No.” She pulled back and scowled. “I don’t want to go to London. It’s crowded and noisy and dirty…”

“And the Prince of the City is fading. He’s requested that I come.” Richard tucked her damp hair behind her ears. “It is a wonderful opportunity. I will be able to expand our holdings tenfold, and you will have access to the finest of European dressmakers and parties.”

Kristina rolled her eyes and pushed him away, walking into the house and trailing mud with her. She might have cared except for the news. “You promised when we came here we would be here for a few decades. It’s been ten years, that’s it. One decade is not a few.”

“I know, darling. And I promise to make it up to you. But you love London. It rains all the time, which means never having to be trapped inside.”

She walked over to the bar and poured herself a drink. Richard slid his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. “We’ll be closer to our friends—”

Your friends. The Reynolds, the Coulsons, the Whitehusts—they are your friends, Richard. They only tolerate me, the little bourgeois-turned-vampire who traded up for a blue blood.”

He growled against her throat, and the light pinch of his teeth scraped at her. “Do not talk about yourself that way, Kristina. They love you. They cannot wait for you to join them again. And they’re even going to throw a party in your honor.”

She shrugged. “Fine. But we have a party tonight.”

“We do, unfortunately with the change in plans—”

Kristina threw the drink across the room and it shattered. “You can’t go.” Disappointment flooded her. It was their very first party in a year, and she hadn’t wanted to throw it, but Richard insisted. And she’d worked for weeks to plan their anniversary into it, and now he wouldn’t even be showing up. She pushed away from him and strode toward the stairs. She would show him.

“Kristina…I will make it up to you—later. I promise.”

She ignored the censure in his voice and didn’t stop until she reached their suite and slammed the door for good measure. She knew he meant it. He always meant it, but if he saw another route, he would take it. But the London offer—it was too good to turn down. She padded over to the wide veranda doors and pulled them open.

She would miss her paradise…and dancing in the rain.

The world snapped back into place, and Kiki gasped. Her eyes went wide as she looked around her cell. She’d returned to her cell and sat down on her bed before the sun rose and went into her gray oblivion peaceably—only it hadn’t been oblivion this time.

She’d dreamed. She never dreamed. Standing up, she glanced down and half expected to find her clothes damp and clinging to her or her feet covered in mud. But she’d had enough time to change into her pajamas when she came in and to hang up her dress. She’d even put away the crystal shoes Roseâtre gave her. They winked from the light cast by the single bulb. The air was a little musty, tasting of perfume, feminine deodorants and recycled air conditioning.