The stranger did not back away, despite the fact that he must have noticed the shimmer of otherworldly power rolling off me. He held out his hand toward the waiting car. He was no mortal—something darker lived beneath his handsome surface. He continued to assess me, but not as a stranger would. He seemed more like a merchant, checking his newly arrived merchandise to assure himself no damage had befallen it on its journey to him.
Never one to look away first or ignore a challenge, I studied him right back. He wore a black suit, formal, with a deep sapphire shirt that was unbuttoned at the top. Far more formal than the jeans and sweater I had borrowed from Lilah, my closest sister, for my stroll. I would have worn my customary forest-green tunic and pants, but Lilah’s commentary—“You can’t go out looking like a wood elf, Elena; people will notice”—prevented that. The sweater proved itchy—even now, my back was irritated, almost burning, from the rough fibers.
The stranger’s face was a classical daydream of masculine splendor. Black hair cut to fall pleasingly across his olive forehead, with dark brows to match. Beauty had marked him, truly, but there was something else. His eyes. Instead of a window to his soul, they were a bottomless abyss. They did not speak of passion, love, or emotion. Instead, they were cold and dark, as if whatever light that had once lain within them had been snuffed out long ago.
I bristled at the thought of what a creature with eyes like those wanted with me. I’d seen enough. I whirled on my heel, staring contest be damned. The sooner I got back to Roth, Lilah, and my sister maidens, the safer the city would be. The stranger could go straight to Hades, for all I cared.
But what I saw behind me stopped me dead. It was Paris, the famed vampire, charging right at me. His fangs were bared, a look of raw fury on his face. The last I’d seen of him, he’d been fawning all over my mistress, Artemis.
I marveled at the rage in every one of his movements. It was as if he were giving off sparks of hate and anger. Then he disappeared and reappeared much closer, teleporting through the crowds.
If the stranger was a wall, Paris was an avalanche, his malice bearing down on me with a violent certainty. Why was he picking a fight with me? And in the mortal world of all places? He was a block away, no more, and closing fast. My palms began to tingle, the beginnings of a vicious hex taking shape. But I still had the onlooker and collateral-damage problems.
“Please, allow me.” The stranger held the car door open. His gaze was still glued to me, as if he were totally unaware of the homicidal vampire charging right at us. With only seconds to make my decision, I glanced from the stranger to Paris, and chose.
“Where can I have my driver drop you?”
I certainly wasn’t about to tell him the location of my sisters at Roth’s chateau. “Just drop me in front of Notre Dame.” Though unfamiliar with the Paris streets, I knew how to make it back to the chateau from there, at least.
“Surely not. Allow me to take you to your home.”
“I, ah, I am staying at a hotel near there. So that’s as good a place as any.” I shifted in my seat, leaning away from the stranger, who now seemed uncomfortably close in the confines of the car.
The second I’d stepped in, the stranger had followed me and the car tore from the curb. But Paris had teleported again at the last second, covering the remaining distance in a heartbeat and fixing me in his dark glare as I sped away from him. Something told me it would not be the last I saw of the vampire prince, though I had no idea what quarrel he had with me. Not that it mattered, I’d gut him if I had to, though my mistress wouldn’t be too pleased about it. I kept checking behind the vehicle for any sign of him.
“Don’t worry about him,” the stranger snapped. He scowled, contorting his otherwise handsome face. “He is and always has been beneath you. Nothing more than a peasant.”
I glanced at my door, my hand itching to pull the handle so I could escape into the darkening streets.
“Locked.” The stranger smiled. “For safety, of course.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, sizing up what it would take to turn him to dust. Getting into this car was a mistake. I’d foolishly been caught in a snare. But something about the stranger was familiar. All these events were more than simple happenstance. The run-in on the sidewalk was no accident, but I couldn’t tell how Paris fit into the picture.