Dressed to Slay

by Harper Allen

  The scene had been replaying in my mind for the past hour, and now it did again. I saw myself getting out of the Mini just as Van’s unmarked sedan pulled into the circular drive in front of the Crosse mansion. Since Mikhail had ignored me all day I didn’t feel bad about leaving him to extricate his six feet four inches from the Mini while I ran to meet Van.

  “You could have met me at the Hot Box,” I said, feeling all girlish and breathless as he laced my fingers through his. “I’m just here to change into something drop-dead sexy and then we can leave. And talking about drop-dead sexy…”

  He was wearing a charcoal Zegna three-button suit. His shirt was creamy white, his cuff links gleamed silver under the porchlights and his tie was perfectly knotted. Impulsively, I gave him a kiss on his cheek just as Tash opened the door.

  “Remember what I said about making it up to you?” I gave him a sultry look as I turned to walk into the house. “Maybe I can start later tonight, if you know what I mean—”

  The next moment I was sprawled on my tush, tears welling up in my eyes and my nose feeling like someone had just whacked it with a baseball bat. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mikhail take the front steps at a bound as he came toward me, but Van was already pulling me to my feet.

  “I think you’re going to have to formally invite Megan in,” he said with a strained smile at Tash.

  “Invite her in?” Tash’s mouth formed an O of comprehension. “Oh, invite her in.” She looked at me with something like pity, but then her gaze sharpened. “Uh, come on in, you guys. Except this is a one-time-only pass, Megan. Sorry, but I’ve got to take some precautions in case you come back later tonight all fangy and looking for blood.”

  It hadn’t been a great start to the evening. And when Mikhail had told me that his at-a-distance bodyguarding of me didn’t include being driven in another car while I went with Van to the club, and I told him that I wasn’t going to have him riding shotgun with with the two of us, and then Darkheart butted in and suggested Van take his own car and—well, you get the picture. I’d received proof positive that my change to vamp was nearly complete, plus I’d ended up chauffeuring Darkheart and Mikhail while Tash and Kat rode with my date.

  By the time I swerved into the Hot Box’s packed parking lot and stopped at the entrance, the atmosphere in the Mini was funereal. Although Darkheart hadn’t said as much I knew he was worried for Kat, and as he opened the passenger door to get out, I saw the strain on his features. Suddenly I felt ashamed. For the past week I’d been rivaling Tash in the it’s-all-about-me category, I reflected, and it was time I snapped out of it.

  “Kat’s the Daughter. She was born for this.” As he’d done earlier to me, I briefly touched my hand to Darkheart’s knee as he started to exit the car. “She may have trouble handling some aspects of her legacy, but so did Mom.”

  “Da, is what I am remembering,” he said in a low tone as he got out of the Mini.

  “I guess that wasn’t the best point to make,” I said under my breath as I headed for a parking space. I glanced into the rearview mirror at Mikhail, who was looking out the window at the arriving crowds of women. Many of the faces were unfamiliar to me and I realized that Tash had either sent out a mass e-mail or the prospect of male strippers had tempted party-crashers. But the guest list wasn’t my main concern at the moment. As I saw a space and inserted the Mini into it, I opened my mouth to speak.

  “Don’t.” Mikhail’s single-word sentence forestalled what I’d been about to say. Before I could reply, he was out of the Mini. I took the keys from the ignition and got out, too.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t apologize for how you feel.”

  Like Van, he was dressed for the occasion, although I had no idea how he’d produced appropriate attire on such short notice. His suit and tie were midnight black against the snowy contrast of his white shirt, and as I looked at him I had the totally unworthy impulse to push him up against the Mini and indulge in a quickie before heading into the Hot Box. His gaze flared at me.

  “I’m your oboroten, not your tame fuck, Crosse. Like I say, you don’t have to apologize for the way you feel about Ryder. What happened between you and me didn’t come with a Valentine’s card, it was just physical, and I don’t have a problem with that. What I do have a problem with is that for an instant when you were on the phone with him this morning, you couldn’t believe you’d done it with a shape-shifter.”

  “That’s not true!” My denial was automatic.

  “Yeah, it is,” he said steadily. “Ryder’s human. I’m part of the darkness that’s invaded your life. You don’t mind slumming in the darkness once in a while just for a thrill, but as far as you’re concerned it doesn’t compare to the normal world.” His jaw tightened. “I don’t think of myself as completely human, either. Only difference is, I don’t see my wolf side as making me less than equal to someone like Ryder.”

  If everything he’d said had been totally untrue, I probably would have reacted with justified anger. But there was a smidge of truth in it.

  Which meant that I didn’t react with mere anger, but with towering fury.

  “You got that right, Mikey-baby!” I spat out. “Your wolf side isn’t what makes you less than Van—it’s your personality that does! Whatever the hell I did to deserve having you tied to me, I wish I could somehow take it back because I can’t take any more of your constant pissiness!” I glared at him. “I don’t want you as my oboroten! I don’t want your protection, I don’t want to be bound to you by some stupid ancient contract, I just want to be free of you, understand?”

  A sharp shock ran through me, as if I’d stuck a fork into a toaster. I jumped, and saw Mikhail give a sudden start, as well.

  I stared at him. “Did I just do what I think I did?” I asked incredulously. “What about having to say it in Aramaic?”

  Mikhail’s gaze narrowed. “Anton does everything the old-fashioned way, even when he doesn’t have to. My guess is he didn’t tell you how to break the contract between us because he knew you would, the first chance you got.”

  “So you can walk away from me now?” I said slowly.

  “I don’t know.” He held my gaze. “The only way to find out is for me to try.”

  For a heartbeat longer he looked at me. Then he turned and began striding between the parked cars toward the entrance. He reached the double doors of the Hot Box and went into the club.

  Mikhail Vostoroff wasn’t my oboroten anymore. He hadn’t even looked back.

  Chapter 17

  “At least the evening hasn’t been a total bust,” Tash said glumly to Kat and me.

  It was after midnight and although our nonreception reception was still going full blast, of Zena there’d been no sign. I caught sight of Van standing in line at the bar and smiled at him before turning my attention to Tash. “How do you figure that?”

  She nodded toward a Chanel-clad brunette sitting with a group near the stage. A buff fireman, stripped down to boots and not much else, was gyrating in front of the brunette while she avidly stuffed five-dollar bills between his suspenders and his oiled chest. “I’ll never be intimidated by Mandy Broyhill again. By my count, that’s her tenth lap dance of the night.”

  “I don’t blame her,” Kat drawled. “Those strippers you hired are so hot I’m surprised the sprinklers haven’t come on.”

  “The only part of this I personally arranged was the balloons,” Tash said with a glance at the festively beribboned globes held aloft near the ceiling by a mesh net. “I left everything else up to the club, including hiring the talent. Even though they were just as fooled by their new Russian boss-lady as the general public was, the remaining staff’s worried about losing their jobs, what with the club’s owner missing and the ongoing police investigation. The day manager was only too happy to accommodate us.” She sighed. “I thought this was such a great idea. I should have known Zena would realize it was a trap.”

  “She could still show up.” Kat waved aw
ay a passing drinks waiter. “If the bitch does show, I don’t want my skills impaired, whether by alcohol or anything else, sweetie,” she said in response to my raised eyebrows. “That’s why I wore this.” She took a step, the thigh-high slit in her ice-blue silk sheath parting to show a tanned length of leg. She frowned in mock disapproval at my black DSquared dress with its top to bottom zip and then at Tashya’s apricot Escada confection. “You two look yummy, but those outfits aren’t exactly staking wear.”

  “You sound as if you’d welcome a confrontation,” I said. “No offense, Kat, but that’s not exactly the impression you gave earlier. I mean, you made it clear you wouldn’t back down from her if the two of you met, but now—”

  “Now I sound like I’m looking forward to it?” She tipped her head to one side. “Maybe I am. I did a lot of thinking today and I realized how stupid I’ve been, tearing myself up everytime I make a kill. They’re vamps. They have to be eliminated. That’s going to be my attitude from now on.”

  “Works for me,” Van said as he joined us. He handed me a celery-garnished drink. “One virgin Mary, as ordered. And you have no idea what I suffered through to get it,” he added.

  I patted his arm. “I saw the hordes of females at the bar. Just be glad you’re not wearing suspenders and rubber boots.”

  “I might as well have been,” he informed me. “I got my ass pinched four times while I was waiting in line.”

  “Da, I felt pinch, too.” Darkheart had made his way through the crowd and now he looked indignantly over his shoulder at an elegant older woman with cropped silver hair whom I recognized as Liz Dixon, a local art gallery owner. She waggled her fingers at him and he spun back to face us. “Amerikanec women are much bolder than in Russia,” he sputtered. “Where is Mikhail?”

  I kept my expression neutral. I’d told Van that I’d broken the bond between me and Mikhail, but I hadn’t yet shared that information with Darkheart or my sisters. “Why, did you want to talk to him about something?”

  He shook his head. “Nyet. Is only I begin to have bad feeling about all this. Probably nothing,” he muttered.

  “Definitely nothing,” Kat asserted. She patted her thigh. “I’ve got my handy-dandy vamp-sticker, and if Zena crashes our party I’m sending her to hell. What’s to worry about?”

  “And even though I’m not the official Daughter, I’m perfectly willing to send a bunch of her vamp buddies to the hot place with her,” Tash said complacently. “Besides which, I’ve got a little surprise prepared.”

  “The vial of holy water I saw you tuck into your evening bag?” Kat said with a smile. “Good thinking. We make quite a kick-ass team, no?”

  I know Tash answered her. I seem to remember seeing the worried look in Darkheart’s eagle gaze fade, to be replaced with one of affectionate pride. I was aware that beside me, Van made a small joke, and of my sisters and Darkheart laughing at it, but none of that was important compared to the sickening revelation that swept over me.

  The moment I’d been dreading for so long had come at last, I realized in icy horror. I’d just turned vamp.

  Kat had made a mistake telling me where she kept her stake, I thought with detached calculation. In less than a second I could be upon her, knocking her to the floor and disarming her. After that, it would be easy to get to Tash. My gaze flicked to my youngest sister, and for a split second I realized I felt nothing toward her but a cold emptiness.

  A wave of dizziness passed over me and hastily I raised my drink to my lips, but as I saw the thick red tomato juice in the glass I suddenly felt as if I was going to be sick.

  “We’ve been here for hours and I still haven’t made the acquaintance of the formidable Ms. Broyhill,” Van declared, taking me by the elbow. “If you’ll excuse us, folks, Megan and I are going to make nice with the guests.”

  “Van, I’m not up to small talk at the moment,” I said shakily as he led me through the crowd. “I—I feel a little nauseous. I probably should have eaten something before—”

  “Cut the crap, Megan.” His tone was sharp with concern. “Something happened to you just now while we were talking with your sisters and your grandfather. That’s why I made an excuse to get you alone. What’s the matter?”

  “I’ve turned.” I had to force the words out. “You shouldn’t be near me, I’m not safe to be around. Please go.”

  “Like hell.” He scanned the room. Then he nodded toward a door I hadn’t noticed before, not far from the stage. “Let’s get you out of this crowd.”

  I felt too stricken to protest, but as we closed the door behind us and the noise of the music and merrymakers was suddenly muffled, I pulled my elbow from his grip. Van stood aside to let me precede him up the short flight of stairs in front of us, but I shook my head. “I once told you what I planned to do if I ever turned, and now it’s time to put that plan into effect.” I raised my hand to touch his cheek, but then I withdrew it. “I don’t even trust myself to touch you,” I whispered, feeling the tears start to my eyes. “When I looked at my sisters it took all my control not to throw myself on them and attack them…and I don’t know how long my control can last. Just say goodbye and let me walk away from you, Van, please.”

  “Not this risk-taker, honey.” He gave me a tight smile. “I told you two nights ago how I felt about you, Megan. Nothing’s changed for me. We’re going to deal with this problem together.” He tipped my chin up so that my gaze couldn’t avoid his. “It’s just a matter of time before Kat destroys Zena, right? As long as we make it impossible for you to take first blood before she’s dusted, the curse will lift with her death.”

  “That’s one theory,” I said, hope rising in me despite myself. “What are you proposing?”

  “Up these stairs is an office. While we were going over the crime scene here I used it as a coordination post, and it’s still off-limits to the Hot Box staff so you’ll be alone in there.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “I left some odds and ends behind, including a pair of cuffs. I know this isn’t how we’d hoped to use them, but if Zena doesn’t show up tonight, I’m sure your grandfather can think of another way we can contain you for the next few days until she’s staked.”

  “Said containment to include a whole bunch of wild garlic, holy water and crucifixes?” I tried to smile but the tears that had been brimming in my eyes splashed over. “Oh, Van—it just might work!” I moved in closer to press a kiss to his lips. “How did I ever get lucky enough to meet someone like you? I didn’t plan to tell you like this, but I think I’m falling—”

  Kill him now while he’s vulnerable! The terrible thought tore through my mind with such cold intensity that I reeled backwards from Van. I could tell from his alarmed gaze that my horror was mirrored in my eyes.

  “You’d better secure me right away,” I said through numb lips as I pushed past him to the stairs. “When you have, find Mikhail and tell him to stand guard over me. He’s the only one here who won’t have any problem killing me if I manage to free myself from the cuffs.”

  The location of the Hot Box’s office had been chosen for a specific reason, I thought half an hour later as I sat at a metal desk, my left wrist encircled by a steel cuff. The other end of the cuff had been snapped closed through an iron ring on the door of a massive, old-fashioned safe. My movements were limited, but I’d been able to reach the curtains that stretched the length of the wall in front of the desk and pull them aside to reveal a long window that looked down on the main floor of the club. From here, a suspicious manager could watch the bartender to make sure all sales were rung in, and also have a good view of the tables where the lap dances took place.

  But I didn’t care about the bartender or the strippers. I just wanted to see Van escorting Mikhail through the crowd, and so far I hadn’t. I’d spotted him when I’d first opened the curtains and looked down on the floor below. He’d been talking with Kat and I’d seen her shake her head. From her he’d gone to Darkheart, who’d gestured with a shrug toward the exit in an appa
rent guess as to where Mikhail might be. I’d watched Van make his way out of the room, but that had been fifteen minutes ago and he hadn’t reappeared.

  There were two possible reasons for his non-appearance with Mikhail: either he hadn’t yet found my former oboroten, or else he had, and Mikhail had refused to cooperate. I hoped it was the first, not the second reason, but as I remembered the bitter words we’d exchanged upon our arrival my heart sunk.

  Mikhail had thought I’d seen his wolf side as making him less than equal…to a man like Van, and to myself. And there’d been a sliver of truth in that, I admitted with shame, just as there’d been a sliver of truth in Tash’s assertion that I’d slept with him just to see how hot his wild side was.

  “Well, I definitely got the answer to that question,” I muttered unhappily under my breath while staring through the window at the stage as the lights dimmed to announce a new stripper. “But although I never thought I’d hear myself say it, mind-blowing orgasms aren’t the only thing a girl looks for in a relationship. Sometimes she just wants someone to be there for her, to share the moment with, to be human for God’s sake! And that’s what Van—wow!” My jaw dropped as I saw the G-string-clad Adonises who were strutting onto the stage.

  Okay, you’re probably thinking, damn, girlfriend—you just turned into a vampire, plus only a moment ago you were all, sex is dandy but there’s more in life than the horizontal mambo. Now you’re taking a time-out to drool over a troupe of male strippers? And to that admittedly justified criticism, all I can say is you had to be there to see those living dreams parading around on the Hot Box stage. Their bodies were oiled so that the amber spotlights gleamed off their pecs, their biceps, their six-pack abs. Every single man jack among them had a chiselly jaw, luscious lips and a butt you could bounce a dime on, although any woman who wastes her time bouncing dimes when confronted with a delectable hard body needs to get her priorities straight, in my opinion. But none of the hormone-charged females in the audience was thinking of small change. I saw Mandy Broyhill standing on the seat of her chair waving a thick sheaf of bills, and then others in the crowd were doing the same.