She wanted to understand it.
All of it.
A glimmer of red splashed against the negative relief, and she hurried her pace. She detected no scent of blood, but the crimson color startled her visual senses. Circling around a column etched with obtuse triangles, she exhaled noisily.
How exquisite.
Sitting like a crown jewel was a ruby rose. Cold and hot in equal measures, her palms itched to caress the petals. Would they be hard? Soft? Her hand hovered so close to it. It beckoned her—like the needle on the end of a spinning wheel.
“Why did you bring me here, Andrew?” She clenched her fingers into a fist. Light glimmered on the edges of the crystalline structure. But despite the obvious presence of quartz, she wanted to know if the smoothness replicated the velvet kiss of the blood-red rose or if it was all just an illusion.
“Because you belong in this gallery,” Andrew’s soft whisper teased her ear. He stood right next to her. She hadn’t even noticed him moving. “You’re like that rose, perfectly shaped and honed. A precious jewel—and Richard let you slip through his fingers.”
The words warned her, but he caught her wrist before she could turn, and the pressure forced her hand wide. Unlike his vapid companion, Lora—he was far stronger than she. He pressed up against her.
I can’t move. Every muscle in her body locked. The ruby rose beneath her fingers warmed, but she wasn’t touching it.
Was she?
“He shouldn’t have let you get away, but don’t worry, sweet Kristina—I am sure he will come for you soon enough.” Andrew kissed the side of her neck and her skin crawled. His lips massaged her pulse point, but despite the erotic nature of the caress, it left her cold. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. “I wanted to make you an offer, but I’ve watched you all day—from the moment you arrived. Even furious with him, you will return as soon as you can, and I can’t allow that.”
Can’t? Her mind shrieked. Why the hell couldn’t she move? What did you do to me? He slipped an arm around her middle and stroked her belly through the fabric of the dress.
“I need him to come for you. It’s not personal, I promise.” He whispered again. His teeth sank into her throat and she winced.
Get your teeth off me, you son of a bitch. Richard…
The bite ended as swiftly as it began, and he let her go. She stumbled forward and closed her hand around the ruby. She seized it and swung, intending to strike him—and the world went blank.
She woke in the Midnight Mystery Lounge two days later.
She was Kiki.
The dancers picked up the beat and Britta cut in front of her with Peppermint coming alongside. They took up the lead while Kiki—No, my name is Kristina. Kristina Casere. We met in a dusty little pub in Eastern Europe. He changed my life…he changed me…
Her gaze flattened, dilating, and she caught every scent in the room. Somehow her feet remembered the steps and she pivoted, threading her body through the dancers and taking back her spot. She stalked after Dayna and hissed. Her fangs descended and a titter of excitement went through the audience. Hunger cramped her stomach, but she controlled it. She needed to feed, and soon, but first she had to survive this gauntlet.
A provocatively masculine scent, mysterious and powerful drifted across the stage and she whirled. Her pupils expanded to absorb the light. She looked into the shadows, heard the heartbeats thundering below the music and her gaze locked with Richard’s. Feral glee speared through her. Around and around, the dancers twined, closing in, and she pushed up from the stage, flipping over their heads to land behind them.
She would not be caged.
Shock rippled through the girls and the audience. The heat of Richard’s gaze pinned her. His blood thrummed through her veins, and she could feel the warning.
I have this… Confidence flooded her as she crouched and stared at Cerveau. The scholarly Amazon’s gaze narrowed. Kiki winked and launched herself. They came together in a crash. Of all the dancers on the stage, Cerveau had the strength to take the blow. They twisted, twining—turning their dance into a wild fight that ended with Cerveau’s mock surrender, and if not for Richard’s soothing presence, she might have actually taken the throat offered to her.
Sweat glistened amidst the gems on her body and she let out a hunter’s cry and raced after Britta. Twisting in and around, they repeated the pulse of the hunt from the night before, and when she closed her mouth on her “victim’s” throat, the dancer thrashed—but she kept her fangs in check. The show ended with the audience on its feet, cheering, whistling and applauding. Rising for a final bow, she danced toward the edge of the stage and launched herself off. She was so done with the show. She wanted her man.
They’d been apart for too damn long.
Richard arrived in the theatre after the curtain went up. He stood at the back as Kristina strode forward. He saw the memories rush in to swamp her—she transformed before the whole audience. Her expression grew dark, and all light fled her eyes. Her scent changed, beckoning him closer, and he glided down the steps slowly. He didn’t know what method they used or why they acted at that moment, but the Overseers reversed the spell.
But was she free of the curse?
The blood pounding performance thrummed through him. She prowled with ferocious delight, unabashed in her reawakened state. Riveted to the final lash of the music, he opened his arms when she landed on the floor and raced toward him. He caught her to his chest, rocking back a step at the strength of her embrace.
“Richard.” All the lost years threaded through the syllables of his name. Closing his eyes, he tightened his grip, thankful to just have her back. But she wouldn’t be contained. Pulling away, she stared up at him. “Is it over?”
“Soon.” Rubbing her arms, he tugged her away from the audience of well wishers closing in around them. Anton and David forced the crowd back, but their aroused state threatened violence. Kristina glanced from him to those calling her name. As if sensing the danger, the other dancers descended from the stage and drew the crowd off, the dozen eager dancers more alluring than the reluctant diva.
Stripping off his coat, he wrapped it around her nude form. She glanced down belatedly and laughed. “Okay, so that didn’t change.”
He lifted a brow.
“I’m still not shy.” Her grin grew.
“You never were. You just restrained yourself so I wouldn’t have to rip out the eyes of the men staring at you…”
“I didn’t have sex with Andrew.” The blurted out words steamrolled over his humor, and he exhaled a long breath. “I came here to show you that I could have fun without you—to prove it. It was stupid and impulsive, and I just wanted you to see what you were missing…” The torrent of words tumbled through a rocky channel of aggravation and despair. “But I swear, I never let him lay a finger on me.”
Pressing his mouth to hers was the only way to stop the tide. She welcomed the kiss, matching his intensity until his mind swam from the contact. Their hearts beat in steady tempo together.
The noisy crowd pressed toward them again, and she pulled back, grabbing his hand and ran toward the stage. He followed, easily jumping up the few feet to land on the polished wood. She guided Richard behind the curtains and into the wings, the heavy fabric muting the throng outside.
“I mean it,” she began again as soon as they were alone. “I was going to torment you with him—be petty and stupid—but I didn’t. I just wanted to make you think I had—”