And she did have some kind of moral code. It had been a long, long time since he had considered anything sexual as an issue of morality, unless the sex involved coercion, outright force or some other kind of imbalance of power.

She, however, had clearly been uncomfortable with the thought of engaging in sex as part of the position, and she had been quite serious when she’d said she would not be a party to harming innocents.

She had also been telling the truth when she’d been onstage. She believed her looks were entirely forgettable, and in some ways they were. She had none of the glossy good looks that so many Vampyre attendants had, or that most Vampyres themselves had, for that matter.

But she did have her own quiet kind of beauty. Her brown hair shone with healthy chestnut highlights, and there was real intelligence in those large, dark eyes. Her narrow face had a precise, strong bone structure with a wonderfully aquiline nose, and her mouth was delicately shaped and sensitive.

Many modern eyes would pass over her in search of more flamboyance and color. Hair dyes had grown complex, and eye color could be intensified or changed altogether. Even Vampyres could sport golden, sprayed-on tans if they so chose, and muscles and breasts could be surgically augmented. People had grown used to the fact that virtually everything could be enhanced or altered.

An intelligent person with quiet looks could be very useful to him.

He considered the negative side of the scale. Her poise was abysmal. Intense emotions played across her face, and her rapid heartbeat sounded like thunder in his ears. That would have to change, of course. She would need a lot of work to realize any of the raw potential he saw in her, but the only way to shape a fine tool was with patience, attention and care.

He waited while she thought things over. “Thank you,” she said. “Yes, I would like to try.”

“Excellent.” He straightened the cuff of one sleeve. “I will expect you at my estate tomorrow evening at sundown. You will be very busy for the next few months, so arrange your affairs accordingly and bring what you will need for an extended stay.”

“I—yes, of course,” she said. “Where’s your estate?”

“On Pirate’s Cove, across the Golden Gate in Marin Headlands. The number you gave on your candidacy application—is that a cell phone?”

“Yes.” Her dark eyes watched him with equal parts wariness and fascination.

“My secretary Foster will text you directions. When you turn off the main highway, the road is narrow and winding, so the drive takes longer than you might think. Be sure to allow plenty of time in daylight.”

“That won’t be a problem—”

Julian strode into the room. Xavier watched the blood drain from Tess’s face before he turned to face his old friend.

The Nightkind King was the kind of man that took over a room the moment he entered it. He had rough, weather-beaten features, with lines at the eyes and the corners of a stern mouth, and a dark, penetrating gaze that could cut like a laser. Flecks of silver sprinkled his short, dark hair.

When Julian had been human, he had been a general during the Emperor Hadrian’s rule, at the height of the Roman Empire. He was broad across the chest and shoulders, flat through the abdomen, and he carried the heavy, powerful muscles of a man who had spent his life as a soldier. Life had been brutal in the Roman army, and when he had been mortal, he had not aged particularly well. He had been in his late thirties when his sire, Carling, had turned him, but he looked ten years older.

The formality of his black evening suit highlighted his rugged looks, and despite the sophisticated, hand sewn suit and the five-hundred-dollar razor haircut, he gave the impression of a wild, shaggy wolf, watchful of everything around him.

With one keen, lightning-quick glance at Tess, he assessed and dismissed her, then turned to Xavier.

I see you’re still playing with your new pet. Julian’s telepathic voice was like his physical voice, deep and rough, like a shot of raw whiskey. When are you going to be done?

Xavier regarded him, perfectly relaxed. In just a few moments. We’re almost finished now.

Good. We need to head back to Evenfall. The Light Fae delegation is already waiting, and gods help me, Tatiana sent Melisande. Plus, all twelve council members have confirmed they’ll be in attendance for the meetings over the next couple of days. Julian glowered at him. I’d rather be trapped in a pit of snakes.

Xavier closed his eyes briefly. Having all the Nightkind council members under one roof was going to be bad enough, but Melisande and Julian had had an explosive affair in the late 1990s that had ended famously. Badly. If the Light Fae Queen had sent her eldest daughter to conduct treaty negotiations, she was either punishing Melisande for something or she was seriously annoyed with Julian. Or both.

Understood, he said.

Unexpectedly, Julian turned his attention back to Tess. He rested his broad, scarred hands on his hips, which pulled his black jacket away from his torso. That reaction of hers isn’t all for me. You do realize she’s scared to death of you.

Yes, I know. Xavier would not add to Tess’s distress by looking at her.

I don’t get what you see in this one. Are you really going to take her on?

He gave an infinitesimal shrug that only Julian would catch. It says something interesting about a person when they don’t let their fear dictate their actions. That’s what she’s doing. We’ll see what else she has to her. Over time.

Julian spoke aloud. “Better you than me. I got ninety-nine problems, but finally, a bitch ain’t one. I’ll wait for you outside.”

As the Nightkind King strode out of the room, Xavier looked at Tess. Her gaze had gone wide and shocked.

He was unsurprised. Julian tended to have that effect on most people. He had always been rough and a bit antisocial, and over the last two hundred years, as his sire turned more and more unstable, he had grown even more so.

She said, “Did he just reference that song by Jay Z—?”

Xavier gave her a level look. “That will be all for now, Ms. Graham. Thank you for your time. Good night.”

• • •

Having been politely and yet thoroughly dismissed, Tess left the building and walked down the street to the parking lot where she had left her blue Ford Focus.

Her hands and feet felt numb, and a disbelieving part of her was convinced none of it had actually happened, until her phone beeped five minutes later. She pulled it out of her pocket and checked the display. As promised, it was a text message from Xavier’s secretary, with directions to the estate.