Page 35 of Vampire's Choice

All that aside, Clara’s current visions offered further explanation for why Ruth had been selected for this job. Though she wasn’t the strongest vampire, she had vampire instincts, and could detect the presence of another one.

Because she planned to prove her usefulness, she’d been ready to accept the distasteful idea that she’d been offered this job as a favor to her father. A patronizing act to give her something “important” to do, while having more opportunity to be out in the world, in a place she’d be mostly protected.

She should have had more faith in her father. And her brother, since she had no doubt he’d had a hand in this.

Clara’s visions had far-reaching, dangerous implications. A vampire world run by Trads would be a human bloodbath, with the even worse ramification of making the human world at large aware of the existence of vampires. Humans would use their superior weaponry to detect and exterminate vampires. Something the Trads had always absurdly refused to acknowledge, treating humans as if they had the brains of a McDonald’s Big Mac.

On the flip side, that made it hard for Ruth to imagine them coming up with a plan that had far-reaching consequences, but she didn’t doubt the chilling proof Clara had provided.

The fortune teller’s eyes were drooping. “I’m going to get some sleep now. Don’t forget to see Gundar before you settle into your quarters. Oh, Marcellus said to tell you it was okay for me to have another kiss. You have a really sweet kiss. Gentle even. Not like I’d expect a vampire’s kiss to be. Would it be okay to ask for another?”

The sleepy hazel gaze was hopeful, impossible to deny. Ruth leaned in and cupped her nape, feeling the slim bones under her hand. Mal had told her the trust of a human, like the trust of the animals on their preserve, was a special gift. Particularly when both were aware of how easily a vampire could kill them.

Ruth put her lips on Clara’s. There was a sweetness to her mouth too. Literally, a touch of chocolate mixed with vanilla, coconut, and cayenne pepper. Clara petted Ruth’s hair, her upper arm, then gripped as Ruth deepened the kiss just enough to give the girl a bolstering shot of lust. When she drew back, Clara’s eyes were laughing.

“A good reminder you’re not tame. Just like Merc. Tell me something about him. Like a bedtime story.”

“I just met him,” Ruth answered, puzzled.

“Yeah. But you two had an after-fight meeting. Or after-fight fight.”

“Grapevine moves fast around here.”

“Faster than shit through a goose on a triple dose of laxative.”

“And you’re nosy,” Ruth added, suppressing a smile.

“It’s one of my most endearing traits. Tell me something about Merc I don’t know.”

“His scent. Do you recognize it?”

“I may be cute as a Pomeranian, but I don’t have a dog’s sense of smell.”

Ruth chuckled. “It has a spice to it. Like wandering into an opium den. It’s floral, but earthy too. You know how when you’re aroused, what might seem like a bad smell when you’re not aroused—heat, sweat, sex—is like perfume, drawing you in? It’s like that all the time with him. Even when it’s not turned on, so to speak.”

Clara digested the words, but her eyes were almost closed. She was drifting off.

“He took me flying,” Ruth said softly. That opened the eyes a wider crack.

“Really? He does that with the kids during the Promenade.”

“What’s the Promenade?”

“The Circus aftershow. The audience is allowed to come into the rings and talk to the players. Merc will take kids for short flights under the Big Top. After seeing him do it for years, it shouldn’t still surprise me, but it always does. It’s like the key to his better side, but no one can find that key outside of the Promenade. You can’t hold onto it.”

“Does Marcellus take the children for flights, too?”

“Yes, when he’s here. I get to see it sometimes, but I work the midway and we’re supposed to be at our stations for the blow off. That’s when the guests exit the show and get engaged by the criers to check out the sideshows and souvenirs, if they didn’t have time to do it on the way in. Or get a candied apple or bag of popcorn…for the road.”

The last words were a mumble. Clara’s head had sunk into the pillow. Ruth sat with her until she confirmed the fortune teller was sleeping easily, without pain. Then she brushed a kiss over the girl’s forehead, adjusting the blankets before rising.

Clara refusing to back away from the torment and brutality she was witnessing in her visions, despite the fatal toll it was taking on her body and spirit? Marcellus’s devotion to a “mere” mortal was making a whole hell of a lot more sense. Ruth was half in love with her already, and she’d known her less than a day.

When she turned, she already knew Marcellus was in the doorway. He said nothing, his gaze on Clara. His wings were pulled in so Ruth could get by him. Though his dark eyes were unreadable, it didn’t matter. She could feel his anguish.

She touched his arm. The praises to the Goddess rippled with mild electric current under her fingertips. He glanced her way.

She would do everything she could not to let Clara down. When she let him see that in her expression, she was glad to see he understood, responding with a brief nod.

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