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above him. “While the only way a human can be converted to Vampyr is to be born to the privilege, a female destiny marked by the gods—and only for the males in the house of Jadon—there are two exceptions my dear, Miss Duvall: a child, like Braden Bratianu, born to a human destiny , who already possesses celestial DNA; and a human stupid enough to trade his or her immortal soul for the glorious opportunity, which makes you fair game for all.” He licked his lips as if he had just partaken of a delicacy. “And you are just such a human, are you not, Miss Duvall?” He cradled the cube to his heart and moaned in pleasure, considering the possibilities.
    No, he didn’t want her as an individual, not at all : He didn’t want to deal with all her occultist nonsense, nor would he tolerate all her inane sacrificial pets. And the endless orgies with human men?
    That was definitely out.
    But…
    And this was really the point worth considering…
    She could prove to be very useful, indeed.
    After all, a mere woman could go where a Dark One could not, like straight into the heart of the house of Jadon. She could even knock on Napolean’s front door. Hell, she could take a job in one of the various industries: at Marquis’s beloved casino or the Dark Moon Stables, at the Dark Moon Lodge or even DMV Prime, working for the queen or her blond-haired friend. Or she could just beat down someone’s door while wielding a chainsaw, bloody but effective. The possibilities were truly endless, and the Light Ones would never suspect a thing. They would never see her coming.
    Why would they?
    As long as she stayed away from the wizards, those who might detect her malevolent aura, those who might suspect that she was somehow Vampyr after all…
    Salvatore placed the cube back on his bedside table. He stood up and exhaled a deep sigh of resignation: Some things just had to be done for the good of the whole, for the brethren he so adored, for the beloved house of Jaegar.
    Leaning over the cube, he whispered, “Yes, Miss Tawni Duvall, I believe it is time for you to succeed in summoning a demon—or a vampire. Tomato, tomahto. There are some things a male of honor simply must do, and tonight, I believe I will do … you.”

three
    Ramsey pulled into the long, sloping driveway that led to his modern cliff-side estate and finally brought the roomy Cadillac Escalade to a halt in front of the spacious five-car garage. “Home sweet home,” he muttered to Tiffany, who continued to stare out the window like a zombie being led on a leash.
    He climbed down from the cab, circled the vehicle, opened her door, and took a judicious step back, trying to avoid any further intimidation. “Carlotta is packing some of your things,” he said casually. “She’ll have them sent tomorrow. Anything else you need, we can pick up this week.”
    Tiffany shrugged with indifference. “And that’s that?” she said caustically. “No garish castle-tower in which to lock up the captured princess?”
    Ramsey reached out and ran his fingers through an errant lock of her wispy blond hair, and then he smiled a wolfish grin. “Too short to be Rapunzel,” he said. “How would I ever get to you?”
    Tiffany flicked his hand away and drew back. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t touch my hair— or me —without my permission.” Her voice contained a confidence her posture didn’t match.
    Ramsey cocked his head to the side. “So I take it that means sex is out, at least for tonight?”
    Tiffany visibly recoiled. She placed both hands on her hips and glared at him, which only brought a twinkle to his eye. Rolling her eyes, she gestured forward and then followed him through the garage, toward the back door of the house, where he placed the palm of his hand against a strange-looking panel—it appeared more like a ward than an alarm. “What is that?” she asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.
    “Just something to keep the boogeymen out,” Ramsey