The king refused, even though he’d deemed it his sacred duty to protect his kinsmen. They all considered Rune a monster, a bogeyman who preyed on their innocent family members.

Bogeyman? Yes.

Innocence? He’d yet to find it in Magh’s line. . . .

After he and Josephine had left Venice, he’d taken her shopping for a gown. He’d told her money was no object, that they could go anywhere in the universe.

Just to be contrary, she’d taken them to secondhand stores off bloody Canal Street in New Orleans.

He’d paced while she tried on garments, never allowing him a glimpse of what she might wear.

Outside one dressing room, he’d murmured, “Fey nobility wear obscenely expensive materials. Females favor pale colors and gauzy fabrics. Perhaps you should as well.”

“Uh-huh,” she’d said, clearly ignoring his suggestions.

Rune didn’t want her to stand out any more than necessary, else she’d feel distressed. “Though we’re likely stepping into an ambush, we should at least try to enjoy ourselves.”

He already had plans for Josephine tonight—seducing her fully—so he’d made preparations. Barring an attack, the setup was ideal. Females went crazy for balls. He and Josephine would drink a little, dance a little, and she’d be his.

Barring his death, he was going to be inside her.

Yet his plans wouldn’t work if she was miserable. She was a woman. A young woman. Weren’t they overly sensitive about things like standing out?

“Gauzy, huh?” she’d said from that dressing room. “Like fairy-airy?” Then she’d peeked out past the curtain and whispered, “You know I’m probably not fey nobility, right?”

“Smartass.”

“But I’m gonna need something from you. To put my whole ensemble together.”

Ensemble. He’d inwardly cringed. Not just one inappropriate garment or accessory. “And what would that be?” He’d expected her to ask for jewels.

She’d cryptically answered, “Your blood in a glass. . . .”

Now she called from his room, “I’m coming out. Warning: I look wicked hot.”

“Come on, then,” he said, tone resigned. “Don’t keep me in suspense any longer.”

She stepped out. His feet shuffled to keep him from keeling over.

“You . . . you’re . . .” Vampiress. Phantom. Somehow she’d complemented both sides.

She wore an unadorned strapless gown of jet-black satin that accentuated her seductive vampire curves. Her generous breasts were pushed up above the tight bodice.

The material was so smooth it reflected light, playing up her translucent skin and high, graceful cheekbones. The shadows framing her luminous eyes were darker, highlighting their unique hazel color.

She’d piled her silken hair atop her head, baring her be-ringed ears and her delicate neck.

Around her throat . . .

He swallowed. She’d used his blood to draw a choker, with her own tiny inlaid runes.

“Do you like the design? I had to cut out a stencil with my claw. Don’t try that at home. It’s got the runes for luck and victory.”

She’s painted with my ink. Possession. My halfling female wears blood runes of her own.

No force in the worlds could stop Rune from taking her tonight.

FORTY-EIGHT

You look okay, I guess,” Jo told Rune, though she’d barely recovered from her first glimpse of him in formal fey-wear: fitted fawn pants, black boots, and a tailored coat of some unusual cream-colored material that molded over his muscles.

He was long, lean, and elegant, but with that hard-core layer underneath the polish.

When she could drag her eyes off his obvious wood, she noticed other details. His hair was tied back, revealing the shaved sides of his head and his fey ears. Black was forking out all over his eyes as he stared at her. “You . . . just . . .”

“Rune, I did warn you. Get yourself together, man.”

His gaze met hers. His lips curled into his slanted grin, and she sighed.

“Ah, Josephine, you’re one to talk. I knew I was wearing you down.”

“Whatever, old-timer.” She wished she could deny that more convincingly, but he was.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you without your bullet necklace.”

“I don’t need to wear it anymore.” It’d served its purpose.

“Just so.” He donned his bow and strapped on his quiver, both of which turned invisible. “If we survive tonight’s ball, I’ll take you somewhere you’ve never been. A favorite place of mine. We’ll drink wine, and you can stargaze to your heart’s content.”

Stargaze? With another person? “I’d love that! Even more incentive to survive.”

He offered his elbow. “Come.”

She took it, and an instant later they arrived in a moonlit garden. “Where are we?”

“Titania. I can’t have everyone seeing my mode of travel, so I traced off-site. The palace is just ahead.” He pointed out a castle not far in the distance.

The structure looked like something from a fairy tale, aglow in the night, with towering spires and snapping flags. One entire wing was made of glass, its facets sparkling like diamonds. Strains of orchestral music reached them, and exotic flowers scented the warm air.

Arm in arm, they started forward. Closer to the castle the walk grew more crowded with formally attired Loreans of all species. Back into the Lore I go. . . .