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back.”
    “Oh.” Marquis retrieved the phone from his jacket
and tossed the thing so hard it became a missile, the casing shattering upon
impact with Nachari’s hand.
    Nachari cursed and glowered at Marquis,
incredulous. Fortunately for the Master Warrior, all vampires had lightning
quick reflexes, or the phone might have entered the house and struck the
king—or worse, Vanya.
    “I’m sorry,” Marquis quipped. “I—”
    “Yes, I know,” Nachari snarled, “you
underestimated your own strength.”
    Marquis peered at the hundreds of little pieces of
metal in Nachari’s palm. “Did the SIM card make it?”
    Nachari frowned. “You need therapy, my brother;
you really do.”
    Marquis waved a dismissive hand. “Our kind does
not...do therapy. Why do you always say such...inconsequential things?”
    Nachari rubbed the bridge of his nose with his
free hand. “Why, indeed, Marquis.”
    Marquis pulled back. “You are angry now, wizard? I
can buy you another phone.”
    Nachari just shook his head and turned to face
Ciopori. “Good luck with him,” he mused. And then he pulled his head back
inside and shut the door.
    When Marquis looked over at the princess, she was
standing several feet away with one hand on her hip, the corner of her mouth
turned up in a scolding smile. “So, I take it vampires are not only
passionate...and protective...but they are also extremely jealous and
territorial. Is that not right, warrior?”
    Marquis bared his fangs and stalked over to the
beautiful female, moving very, very slowly, his gait the easy shift of a predator,
his large, muscular frame expanding and contracting with every step. “ Extremely
territorial ,” he snarled.
    Ciopori laughed and covered her mouth with one hand.
“You mustn’t be concerned about other men, Marquis.” And then she eyed the
strong warrior from the tip of his head to the bottom of his toes and let out a
long, drawn-out sigh. “You have absolutely nothing to be jealous of, my love. Trust
me .”

three
    Marquis threw open the door to his office at the
end of the main foyer on the top, executive floor of the Dark Moon Casino. The
elegant suite took up both sides of the hall, the center facing outward toward
the eight remaining offices. It was decorated in rich, dark colors and sparsely
fitted with refined cherry-wood furniture.
    Marquis’s desk faced the entry, overlooking a
black leather sofa, which was flanked by two, matching high-backed chairs with
dual cherry-wood end tables. The east and west walls were made of floor-to-ceiling
windows—the back wall, a series of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
    Kristina Riley sat on a burgundy chaise in front
of the window, her small frame slumped over, her knees tucked tightly to her
chest. Her face was shielded behind her shoulder-length, naturally-curly red
hair, but Marquis could smell the bruises...as well as her fear.
    As was typical for Kristina, she was wearing a
suede mini-skirt with a fitted top and a pair of three-inch heels; her legs were
scratched and bleeding as if she had tried to crawl away from her attacker
across a rough patch of ground. There were fingerprints marring her throat and
a cigarette burn on her left arm.
    Chad Baxter immediately jumped up when his boss
entered the room: The stalwart employee went through the same series of
adjustments each time Marquis showed up for work. There was an initial scent of
fear, an instinctive reaction to the presence of such a powerful creature—whether
Chad knew what Marquis was or not—then his adrenaline would level off as he
remembered the trust between them; and finally, he would shift from his natural
dominant personality to a more appropriate submissive one.
    It all took place lightning-quick, on an
unconscious level, yet none of it escaped Marquis’s awareness. It was simple,
really. Marquis Silivasi was an intimidating male, even to other vampires. To
humans, his presence was like having a wild animal in their midst: His
predatory nature