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  "Uh . . . this is Gloriana."

  "I know who she is. I told you who she was."

  "Eve," Gloriana said, all warmth and sweetness and apology. "I only wanted to meet Michael, as he's Amelie's newest child. I am a curious creature, I know. I mean nothing by it."

  "Eve, chill," Michael said. "She just came over to say hello."

  "I see." My voice sounded flat and pissed, even to my own ears. "That's great. Now she can just say good-bye, too."

  "I meant no offense, most surely. Here, I'll be going." Gloriana stood up and extended her hand to Michael, knuckles turned up. "It was charming to meet you, Michael Glass."

  He took her hand and looked briefly confused about what to do, then lifted it very formally to his lips and kissed her knuckles. Not kissed kissed, more of a brush of his lips, but it still made me feel lightheaded and sick inside. "Welcome to Morganville," he said. "Hope to see you around."

  "Oh, I'm sure you will," Gloriana laughed. "After all, the sign says you'll never want to leave, isn't that true? I already find much to like about Morganville." She flicked those green eyes toward me. "Eve. Thank you for your hospitality."

  "Yeah. Don't forget to take your blood with you."

  Michael gave me a look. I gave him one right back. While we were doing the silent stare thing, Gloriana retrieved her cup and headed for the door. Michael moved past me to open it for her and handed her a big, floppy black coat and hat to throw on. "There's an entrance to the underground a block down," he said. "Look for the glyph. You can bring the coat and hat back later."

  "Thank you," she said, and swaddled herself up in the sun-defying garb. She looked like a waif playing dress-up. "You are so kind, Michael." She pronounced it French, like Meeshell. "I will return the kindness soon."

  He watched her go. I watched him watch her go, and then he shut the door, locked it, and without looking at me said, "So, just how mad are you?"

  Without a word, I turned and walked down the hall, into the kitchen, and poured myself a glass of water. I wasn't thirsty, but there was a burning pain in my throat, and besides, it gave me something to do with my shaking hands.

  I heard the door open as Michael followed me in. "Seriously," he said. "Eve, I was just being friendly. She's new in town."

  "Oh, so the hand-kissing, that's just being friendly? I never see you doing it to Oliver."

  "A lot of these older vamp women, it's what they expect. They don't shake hands, Eve."

  "Well, they need to bring their undead asses into the twenty-first century, then, because hand-kissing went out with the guillotine, didn't it? And since when do you do what's expected, anyway?"

  Michael shook his head and leaned back against the counter. "It's not like that."

  "Like what?"

  "Like I want to take her to bed, which is what you're thinking, Eve."

  I couldn't believe he'd gone and said that right out loud, even if I was thinking it. Not in such polite terms, though. "Then what's it like?"

  "Like I'm—curious. Look, she's friendly, not like a lot of the others. I can ask her things, about being—" There was more color in his cheeks than normal; that was the closest a vampire can come to blushing. "About being what I am."

  "What kind of things?" I demanded.

  Michael met my eyes. "Like how likely I am to lose control and hurt somebody close to me. That kind of thing. Especially when I'm hungry and we're together."

  Oh. That hurt, in all kinds of unexpected ways; these were personal things, and it wasn't just personal for him. I was the one who'd drawn the line with him, who'd said I was never, ever going to let him bite me, especially not that way. And it wasn't something we talked about, not ever. Especially not with third parties who might be named Sexy Hell Kitten. "And you thought it was okay to discuss all this with a vamp you met, like, thirty seconds ago."

  "We've been talking for an hour, Eve. It wasn't the first thing out of my mouth."

  I swallowed. "Did you kiss her?"

  "Eve!"

  "Did you?"

  "Jesus, of course not."

  "Did you want to?"

  Michael just looked at me for a few fatal seconds, then said, "She's got that effect on guys, so yeah, I guess I thought about it. But I didn't do it."

  That didn't make me feel any better. Gloriana would be back. At the very least, she'd return the hat and coat, and if I wasn't here, he'd get all cozy with her again, and . . . things could happen. It wasn't that I didn't trust Michael, I did, I really did, but . . . she wasn't just any random chick. She hadn't stopped in just to pay a social call; Gloriana was hunting.

  She was stalking my boyfriend.

  "Over my dead body," I murmured. Michael looked startled. "Sorry. Talking to myself."

  He sighed, straightened up, and crossed to stand right in front of me. He took the water glass out of my hand and put it carefully on the counter, then leaned in and kissed me, sweet and hot and hard. He braced himself with his hands on either side of me on the counter, and damn, the white fire of that just about wiped out anything else I had on my mind, including Gloriana's sly, sweet smile, or the way Michael had looked after her when she'd gone.

  He was mine. Mine.

  His hands left the counter and stroked through my hair, down the column of my neck, spread out on my shoulders. My top was stretchy enough to slide down my arms under the pressure of his palms, and I shivered as cool air hit my skin.

  Michael picked me up in his arms like I was a bag of air, and for a long second he looked down at my face. His expression left me breathless. "You know I love you," he said. "You know that, don't you?"

  "I know," I said. "But I also know that can change."

  "Never," he said, and kissed me again. "Never."

  And for a little while, as he carried me upstairs to his room, I believed that would actually be true.

  Always.

  Even when I felt the tangle of frustration in him when his teeth grazed my neck and he didn't bite.

  * * * *

  I didn't hear about Gloriana for three days, until Michael told me there was going to be a big to-do in Founder's Square on Friday night to welcome the newest arrival. He had an invitation, of course; all the vampires got them. Some humans did, too, including our bookworm housemate Claire . . . who, not surprisingly, decided that our other housemate Shane would be her plus one to the party. I was kind of shocked that Claire decided to go, though; she wasn't generally the dressed-up party type (or the dressed-down party type, come to that).

  "Oh, I met her," Claire said, as we were doing laundry in the basement of the Glass House. She was sitting on the dryer this time while I dumped dirties into the washer; as usual, she was reading, this time one of Charlaine Harris's vampire books. She probably considered it research. "Gloriana, I mean. She seems nice."

  Nice? I almost dropped the laundry detergent on my toes, which wouldn't have been as much of an owie as you might think, since my boots are steel-toed. "How'd you run into her?"

  "She visited Myrnin."

  That was strange, because Amelie was really damn serious that nobody, but nobody, visited Myrnin; those of us who knew Claire's boss at all had sworn under pain of actual, bloody death not to talk about him, ever, to anybody not in the know. Gloriana just strolling in to the equivalent of a highly secure facility seemed . . . unlikely.

  Except that I'd met her, too. Gloriana seemed like she could charm her way into Fort Knox, and the guards would stand in line to help her carry out the gold. "How'd they get along?" I asked.

  "Oh, he was all suave," Claire said, and all but giggled. "He actually ran off and got dressed up for her. It was cute. Well, I can understand why, she's pretty . . . pretty. They know each other, from olden times. Maybe he dated her once."

  "Maybe," I said. Weirder things had happened. "So, you liked her?"

  Claire turned her head and looked at me; she'd gotten her shoulder-length hair cut again, shorter, but it was messy from the wind outside. Still cute, though. Her big, brow
n eyes were way too smart for either of our good. "You didn't?"

  I hadn't told her about Gloriana's visit to the house. I wasn't sure why; I usually come right out with my latest drama, but this had felt . . . more dire than usual. And really personal. Now, I just shook my head and focused on adding detergent in the right amounts for the colored clothes. Although I was tempted to bleach the hell out of Michael's stuff. "You ever have that happen where you meet someone and just—clash? We were like a gravel and cream sandwich."

  "That is the weirdest thing you've ever said. I suppose you were the cream?"

  "Of course I was the cream. Sha."

  Trust Claire to not get distracted. "Something happened with her and Michael," she said. Wow. Zero to correct in one point nothing seconds. "Right?"

  "Do you really think I'm that shallow that—okay, yes. She came over here. I found the two of them together."

  Her eyes widened, and she slipped down off the dryer. "Seriously, together? Like—"

  "No, not like. Tea in the parlor, or the vampy equivalent. You know. Sitting, talking." I frowned. "But it was way too nice. And besides, here, he's mine. You know?"

  Claire nodded, not that it made the least bit of sense. She's a good friend. "Did you talk to him about it?"

  "Oh, sure. Nothing happened, yadda yadda. The usual. But my maydar went off like crazy."

  "Maydar?"

  "As in, he may be thinking about super hot sex with her. Like radar, only not as sure."

  Claire rolled her eyes. "Did you ask?"

  "Yes," I said. "I asked."

  "And?"

  "And he took me to bed."

  "Oh."

  "Yeah." I frowned unhappily down at clothes, slammed the lid, and turned on the washer.

  "Oh. Exactly." "Exactly what?"

  That was Michael, standing at the top of the basement steps. Claire and I did the guilty dance. She dropped her book, and hurriedly picked it up. "Nothing," I blurted. My cheeks felt warm, and I was glad I was in shadow until I remembered, duh, vampire eyes. "Girl talk."

  He nodded, looking at me with a little sadness in his gaze, I thought. "Just wanted to remind you that we're out of milk again. And hot sauce."

  "Why are those two always out at the same time? Because those do not go together."

  "I suspect Shane. He'd put hot sauce in anything," Michael said.

  "Ugh," Claire sighed. "So true." Michael didn't leave, and after a second, Claire cleared her throat, closed up her book, and said, "Yeah, I've got something to do. Upstairs. Away from here."

  He stepped aside to let her out, then closed the door behind her and settled down on the steps. I had wet whites to put in the dryer, so I busied myself with that, making extra sure that everything was untangled, that the dryer sheet was in, that the timer was just so.

  Michael waited patiently for me to get the fidgeting done before he said, "If you don't want to go to the party, just say so."

  "Of course I want to go. It's a big swanky dress-up party. How often do I get to go to those, in Morganville? And I mean, some of these vampires own their own tuxes, even."

  "Eve." His voice was gentle, and very kind. "I mean it. If you don't want to go, we won't go."

  "I can't avoid her forever. It's too small a town."

  He couldn't argue with that, and didn't try. "That doesn't mean you have to go to her welcome party. And if you want, I'll dress up and take you out somewhere nice."

  "Nice being a relative term around here," I said, but secretly, the idea that he was willing to put on a suit and take me to the all-night diner made me smile. "Thanks, sweetie. But maybe I should just suck it up and go. What could happen?"

  "Oh, plenty," he said cheerfully enough. And he was right. The two of us had rarely been to a party that hadn't ended in some kind of disaster, whether it was the senior prom where Chuck (aptly named) Joris had vomited in the punchbowl, or the EEK fraternity party, which had ended in a vampire attack. And let's not even mention Mr. Evil Vampire Bishop's big welcome party, which had been a truckload of trouble.

  "I'll be fine," I said, and glared at the clothes tumbling on high heat. "I'll play nice as long as she does."

  I turned around. Michael had come down the stairs and crossed the distance between us, noiseless as the air, and I melted into his arms with a sense of real relief.

  He kissed the top of my head. "That's my lady."

  I really hoped he meant that.

  * * * *

  I woke up the next day expecting—oh, I don't know, doom, disaster, and Apocalypse; weirder things had happened in this town. But things seemed normal enough, even after I left the house and headed off to the day job. The one not-so-great thing that happened was that when I got to Common Grounds, guess who was there?

  Gloriana. Deep in conversation with about a half dozen admirers. She'd picked one of the tables in the darker section of the room, far away from the blazing sunlight, and at first I thought all her new groupies were vamps, but no, some of them were definitely still rocking a pulse. A couple of them were college boys, complete with the ubiquitous backpacks. I was pretty sure one of them was Monica Morrell's future ex-boyfriend, what's-his-name, the football player. Oooh, the fur would fly if Monica dropped in and saw her current squeeze crushing on the New Girl.

  I was kind of hoping for that, but no such luck. Gloriana hung out for hours, laughing and talking, ordering regular rounds of whatever.

  When she finally left, I saw Oliver watching her with a troubled look on his face. "Boss?" I asked. "Something wrong?"

  "No," he said. "No, I don't think so. Not yet, at any rate."

  No matter how much extra effort I put into customer service, he wouldn't elaborate, and that bothered me because (a) Oliver was pretty free with his criticisms for the most part, and (b) it wasn't like him to look worried. Ever.

  No Apocalypse had been declared by the end of my shift, though.

  I supposed that qualified as a win.

  * * * *

  Gloriana's party that night was fabulous, from the raised-ink imitations on paper so soft and thick it felt like skin (but wasn't, thankfully), to the uniformed vampire doormen on duty at the party building, to the china and crystal and candles on the round banquet tables inside. The vampires had turned out in force; I guess they didn't get much chance to party like it was 1499 either. I was wearing a slinky black velvet dress, with a train that trailed behind me like a fan. It was cut low in the back to show off the rose tattoo I had there, and although I didn't have any really good jewelry, I'd bummed some pretty good costume stuff off of people I knew. I looked fab.

  Although in the company of vampires, I looked like . . . lunch. But if there was one thing I knew about Morganville, it was that your risk of being lunch was pretty much the same whether you were dressed like a movie star or a bag lady. Better to go out in style, if you had to go.

  For all that, if Michael hadn't been on my arm, the look I got coming into the ballroom might have made me turn around and run.

  Luckily, Michael stayed steady and whispered, "Easy. They're not going to hurt us." It was the us that did it— the fact that we were a unit, and he didn't even try to think about it any other way. I took a deep breath, put on a brave smile, and raised my chin. That put my veins on display, but whatever.

  Michael was wearing a nice black suit and a tie that wasn't quite conventional, in this crowd, but he didn't give a damn. Anyway, it was a music tie. They could munch ass if they didn't approve.

  There was a line of vampires to meet, some I already knew and some I didn't. I took my cue from Michael about how respectful to be, but not because I felt particularly humble; many of these old-school vamps took offense easily. When I got to Amelie and Oliver, I breathed a sigh of relief. They might take offense, but I knew what I could get away with.

  I shook Amelie's hand firmly. She was wearing white gloves, and I was pretty sure the diamonds around her wrists were real. The gown was ice blue, and really beautiful, and probably by some famous
designer I'd never heard about. Oliver was in a tuxedo, with tails. Damn, he James Bonded up really well. He bent over my hand, just a little—more of a suggestion of a hand kiss than anything else.

  And then there was Gloriana, in a deep, vivid red gown, laughing and flirting with a whole circle of male admirers, both vamp and human. I saw Richard Morrell, the mayor, right in there, while his sister Monica stood off to the side, looking deeply unhappy. She was used to being the belle of the ball, and she'd certainly dressed for it, but whatever she was wearing, it looked like a knockoff rag next to Gloriana's dress, and she knew it. She also was alone, which was very unusual indeed. Even at a vampire party, she would have expected to draw some male attention, but there was a brand-new queen bee in town.