She walked right through the center of the gathering, her steps unrushed, head held high. Overheard, muffled conversations joined the barrage of unwelcome psychic input, until it was nearly impossible to discern which words were spoken aloud and which were given voice only in her mind. Pointless musings on uncomfortable wardrobe choices and pending holiday plans overlapped with opinionated debates on Breed politics and the dismal economic situation of the human world.
By the time Danika reached the far side of the ballroom, her sk stroom, hull was ringing from the combined cacophony of sensory input. Some fresh air would help clear her head. She made her way toward a closed pair of French doors that opened onto an outdoor terrace.
As she neared, she saw the dark shapes of several Breed males standing outside. Their voices were little more than low rumbles on the other side of the glass. She paused at the mention of a pending live cargo shipment overdue at Edinburgh airport-something expensive, requiring discreet handling. That alone was enough to make her instincts prickle, but it was the next comments that froze her feet to the floor where she stood.
"Does the cargo include anything ... exotic?"
"Perhaps" came the airless, arrogant reply. "So, be sure to bring your best offers. And your appetites, whatever they may involve."
Low, conspiratorial chuckles answered from the group of vampires. As they continued talking, their voices dropped to a level too quiet for her to make out. But she tried, edging a bit closer to the terrace doors and feigning rapt interest in a hideous painting framed on the wall beside her.
Eavesdropping is a very rude habit.
The thought slammed into her mind from out of nowhere, as deep and rich as molasses and thick with a rolling Scots burr.
Can be dangerous too, lass.
Did she know that thick, dark voice? Even more unsettling, did its owner know her?
Danika sent a quick glance around the gathering, looking for familiar faces among the throng in the ballroom and the smaller groups clustered at its perimeter. Aside from Conlan's handful of cousins and their mates, there were none but strangers all around her.
Yet she was sure she'd heard that slow, sardonic Highland drawl before. She thought about the conspiring handful of Breed males on the terrace outside, and she wondered ...
Just then, the French doors opened and the four vampires started to file into the mansion. Danika drew back, too late to pretend she hadn't been standing there for more than a few minutes.
The male leading the pack latched on to her instantly with chill, slate-gray eyes. Impeccably dressed in his Armani tux, black hair slicked artfully back from his face, he gave her a thin smile. "What have we here?" The voice that had reeked of arrogance from the other side of the terrace doors now softened with oily charm as all but one of his companions-a towering wall of muscle, broad shoulders, and brooding, dark menace-melted into the rest of the gathering. "To think I might have left the party tonight without the pleasure of being properly introduced to someone as lovely as you."
Danika offered nothing in response. Far from impressed by his attention, she was too busy trying to get a better look at the Breed male standing behind him. Bodyguard or thug, she couldn't be sure. Tall and formidable, he wore more than one firearm beneath the conservative cut of his graphite wool suit coat. His gaze was partially concealed by the careless tousle of his thick chestnut-brown haih="ut-browr, but she could make out the savage line of a knife scar down one beard-grizzled cheek, and the bridge of his nose bore the jag of a poorly healed break. As she stared at him, his generously sculpted mouth turned grim, lips pressed flat and forbidding above his square chin.
Something prickled deep in her veins. The face was all wrong, but the grave twist of that mouth ...
She knew that dark look. Didn't she?
"My name is Reiver," said the vampire with the dry voice and oily air that made her skin crawl. His gaze traveled the length of her, brows lifting when he noticed the scarlet sash around her waist. "And you must be the widow MacConn. A shame about your man. Dangerous business he was in."
Danika flinched at the reference to her dead mate. In fact, she could've sworn she detected the faintest quirk of reaction from Reiver's menacing associate too. "Conlan was killed doing something he believed in. Dangerous or not, he served the Order with honor."
He lowered his head in a vague acknowledgment. "Of course. And you have my sympathy for your loss."
She might have believed him even a little, if not for the leering glint in his eyes. "I'm not particularly interested in anything you have to offer. Now, if you'll excuse me-"
When she pivoted to walk away, his hand came down firmly on her arm. Danika heard the rumble of a growl but had no time to register if it came from Reiver or the guard behind him, whose body had gone rigid and alert, vibrating with menace. "Such a sharp tongue. The heathen warriors of the Order might find that attractive in a female, but you're a long way from Boston, my dear. A little courtesy would serve you well."
She glanced down to the long fingers that were snaked around her wrist and holding on like a vise. His bodyguard moved forward as though prepared to step in, but Danika refused to be cowed by either of them. "Let go of me."
Reiver's smile became a thin-lipped sneer. "We've hardly had a chance to get acquainted. Stay. I insist."
"I said let go."
He didn't. And in that next instant, the ballroom echoed with the sharp crack of her open palm connecting with his face.
It seemed as though the entire room froze in response.
Bodies ceased moving on the dance floor. The orchestra faded into quiet. Conversations halted, heads turned. Everyone stared at Danika and at the vampire who was seething in cold fury, blocked from delivering a return strike by the barricading wall of his bodyguard, who had placed himself between them.