Page 16 of Vampire's Choice

Ruth noted a ring on her left hand, a sapphire stone framed by a silver fairy. Her tiny hands were upon it as she lay in the clasp of her lover. Their intertwined bodies formed half of the band, as well as the setting for the stone. Because it was a simpler, more sentimental piece, Ruth wondered if it was a gift from Jacob.

Yvette wore sleek black leggings tucked into matching boots with a sturdy three-inch heel. Her blouse, made of a transparent gold fabric, had full sleeves and an unlaced neckline that exposed high, firm breasts in a lacy black bra. An array of silk corded pendants rested in their cleft. Garnet earrings brushed her long neck.

Her hair was plaited in slim golden braids, most wound around her head, but some spread over her shoulders. Those braids were threaded with bronze beads that picked up the luster of her skin. Her eyes, fixed on Ruth in a blatant assessment, were a mix of gold and gray. Before colored contacts, Ruth couldn’t imagine how Lady Yvette would have passed as human. She reminded Ruth of a lion, born without the imposition of civility or the degradation of natural spirit that captivity could inflict. Such a creature could be as wild as the elements themselves.

Ruth liked her immediately.

Adan had said no one knew Yvette’s exact age, but the Circus had first drawn notice in the 1700s.

A crop with metal-tipped tassels was tucked into Yvette’s boot. She uncrossed her long legs, bracing both feet on the ground, and rose. Her gaze continued to travel over Ruth, examining every detail. Lyssa took another sip of tea.

Ruth had made her greeting. Further conversation would be invitation-only. She met Yvette’s gaze. No matter that she often felt a nearly unbearable natural compulsion to do otherwise, Ruth had learned to do that with stronger vampires. Usually she countered that dangerous compulsion with bitch-face attitude, but that wasn’t the best option for this scenario.

“What do you know of why you are here, Ruth?”

“You have a protection detail that needs reinforcement.”

“No. Not reinforcement. Just an extra set of eyes.”

She didn’t recognize the male voice, but she’d been vaguely aware another male stood near the one she was so studiously pretending wasn’t in the room.

“If only eyes were needed,” she said, “A smartwatch could provide that.”

Okay, she had grabbed for the snark. Regardless, it had been a mistake, because a distinct chill gripped the room, from the speaker’s direction.

Biting back a curse, she pivoted toward him. She made sure she chose the direction that would keep her biggest distraction out of her direct view.

Holy fucking shit. Later, she’d knock her head against the wall for her preoccupation with her island tormentor, which had made her ignore who stood next to him.

A freaking angel.

He must be the one Adan had told her was with the Circus. Since she’d never been in the presence of one, she’d assumed she wouldn’t know when she was. But facing him, taking in everything about him, there was no confusion about it. His existence spoke to something deep inside her, as if long before her current soul had inhabited this body, it had known his kind.

Her mother’s stories said babies were guarded by angels in the Hall of Souls. Maybe they rocked the new souls in their cradles, carried them around.

Just as she had for Lyssa, she dropped to a knee and bowed her head. “My lord, forgive me. I spoke with the desire to assure my audience that I won’t be intimidated in ways that endanger who I’m here to help protect.”

Total silence. Then she heard a chuckle with an edge to it. A mean one. Scorn was in the tone.

Now that he was standing next to one, she couldn’t believe she’d thought the incubus might be an angel. He was as far from being one as she was.

Even so, the tone of the laugh tightened her lower belly, sending a quake through her limbs. She squashed that reaction. She didn’t know why the incubus was mocking her, but she didn’t give a shit.

The angel stepped toward her. He wore sandals with straps that wrapped around his taut calves. “You deny pride factored into your reaction?”

His baritone told her he could bark out an order that would be heard halfway across the Circus’s vast grounds.

“I do not, my lord. My apologies again.”

Another pause. “Apology accepted.”

“You can rise.” Yvette’s order held amusement. “Genuine deference annoys Marcellus. If you can’t keep holding your own with him the way you just did, before you knew what he is, you might as well take your tough act back home.”

Ruth rose to her feet and deliberately lifted her gaze to Marcellus’s. What she saw startled her enough to drive her back a step.

His eyes had no whites. Darkness filled the area, framed by thick lashes. His square face was framed by thick brown hair to his shoulders. Dark green feathers layered his wings, arched over his broad shoulders. If he spread them out, the tips would brush the yurt walls.

Guards on his forearms were crafted of gold metal, etched with symbols and words in a language she didn’t recognize. His biceps shimmered with similar markings, and then they were gone, like a hidden tattoo.

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