Brigit fixed her eyes on Utana, and for the life of her, she could not look away. She danced as she had never danced before, the power of it rising up from some unknown and yet bottomless well within her. And she danced for him alone. Despite her mission, despite her lies, she felt as if this performance were real. As if he truly was her beloved king; as if she truly was his to command. As if her deepest desire and only goal was to give him pleasure as he watched the movements of her body.

When the troupe finished their performance and left the stage, Utana rose and pointed at her. "This one remains," he announced. And then he turned to the drummers. "Keep playing."

They glanced nervously at each other, and then at Scarface.

"Your heard the king. Play!" the man said.

The drummers played. And Brigit kept on dancing, twisting, writhing, as if she were possessed, under a spell, moved about by an unseen puppeteer whose will could not be denied.

Utana stabbed her eyes with his, sent his command to her by means of thought, not words. Here. By me. You dance for me alone.

Her throat went dry as she wondered just what the hell had taken possession of her body, her mind. But she moved to dance in front of him, and she realized it wasn't entirely against her will. She loved the passion in his eyes. The desire she was making him feel for her. It was heady. She felt powerful.

He moved closer to her, taking a seat in the softness of a huge cushion on the floor. He seemed to be enjoying the food, the wine, but she knew it was a lie. He was focused only on her, on her swirling, gyrating hips, level with his face.

She didn't know how much longer she could keep going. Her body was coated in a thin sheen of perspiration. She'd been dancing nonstop for two hours and then some. Then, finally, he leaned toward his so-called vizier and said, "Have her taken to my chambers. And...bind her."

Brigit sucked in a gasp, opened her mouth to protest and then bit her lip. It wouldn't matter. She didn't need her hands to blast him with her power. She liked to use her hands to help her focus and direct the energy, but it wasn't necessary. He was going to come around to her way of thinking, or he was going to be spread across the room in bits and pieces, whether he had her bound or not.

Gravenham-Bail's eyebrows went up, but he nodded and rose to obey, taking Brigit by the arm. She stopped dancing at last and stumbled from the room at his side.

They exited the ballroom, crossed the palace-like atrium and moved up the curving stairway to the left, then along a hall to the double doors of the king's suite of rooms. Along the way her escort paused to whisper to another man, who nodded and hurried away.

The scar-faced man flung the doors open and shoved her inside. "You've been paid very well," he said to her.

Although she hadn't, she had apparently done a very good job of convincing him that she was one of his employees.

"Very well," she replied.

"And you were told this might be a possibility."

"I don't think I agreed to the bondage bit, though."

"Well, it's not like you have a choice, honey. Shit, you were practically asking for it, the way you were dancing out there."

Behind him, the man he'd spoken to on the way upstairs appeared, bearing two pairs of handcuffs and several lengths of rope.

Scarface took them without looking at him and said, "Go on. Close the doors on your way out."

Brigit's alarm bells were going off.

"Give me your arms."

"Look, I'm not sure this is such a-"

He grabbed her wrists, yanking them forward. She could have pulled free. Hell, she could have blown him to pieces or just simply broken his neck. But that would have given her away. He worked for the DPI, and besides that, he knew her. If she removed the veil or relaxed the glamour she was still casting over him, he would recognize her as the leader of the vampire resistance who had captured him, ever so briefly.

If she gave herself away, she would wind up in a government lab as its favorite rat. The DPI had been hunting for the "mongrel twins," the only two of their kind, for decades. But more importantly, she would lose her chance to save her people.

So she relaxed her arms and let him cuff her wrists together, and continued keeping her face averted, her veil in place.

"Move over there," he said, pointing to the bed.

She did, swearing at him inside her head but never speaking a word aloud.

From somewhere far away she heard Utana, speaking to her with his mind. If he touches you, call out to me, and I will kill him.

Well, that, at least, was reassuring.

The man with the scar snapped a manacle to her left ankle and affixed the other end to the huge heavy bed's clawed leg. He had to move the heavy layers of bed curtains aside to even find it.

"That should do."

She could pick that bed up and hurl it at him if she wanted to, she reminded herself.

He looked at her.

She averted her face and muttered, "Don't even think about it, pal."

His lips pulled into a smile. "Not before my king, anyway."

And then he was gone, and she sighed in relief. He hadn't recognized her. Probably couldn't have described her face to another soul if his life had depended on it. Because it wasn't her face that had held his attention.

And for that she was grateful.

Brigit was left to bide her time and wait for Utana to come to her. And to plan what she would do when he did. She wondered why she had to give that any thought at all. She ought to just kill him. She could do so bound as easily as not.

Not immediately, though. She should wait at least until he took the cuffs off, so she could make her getaway when their confrontation was over.

That was her heart talking, though, not her brain. She could burn through the cuffs with the power of pure fiery destruction. She could free herself and blast anyone who dared step into her path as she escaped this house of lies. She didn't need to wait. She should kill him the minute he stepped through those-

The double doors opened, and Utana stepped through, looking around the room and sending his thoughts to her as clearly as if he were speaking them aloud.

Say nothing, Lady Moonlight. I believe I am observed even here, though I have yet to learn how. Though they worship me as a king, I am not entirely trusting of my new devotees.

Oh, please, tell me you're not buying all this bullshit. She thought the words at him, even while her mind was elsewhere.

Her throat went dry as she stared at him. God, he was beautiful. Dressed in robes, not makeshift ones made from bedsheets like before, but a fine white tunic, with masses of burgundy satin that looped over one shoulder. He looked like the king he once had been.

And even as she watched, her eyes widening, he lifted the sash over his head. And then the robe. Beneath it was nothing. Utterly nothing. And she couldn't stop her eyes from roaming down his body. His skin was the color of light brown sugar, smooth and probably just as sweet to the taste. His chest was so broad and cut, it was almost ridiculous. His neck was corded, his biceps bulging. He didn't look like an ordinary man-hell, he didn't look like an ordinary vampire. Because he wasn't one, she reminded herself. He was something else entirely. He looked like a bodybuilder. Every muscle rippling beneath that desert-sun-kissed flesh as he moved slowly closer, his eyes never relinquishing their tractor-beam hold on hers.

Kill him, her brain told her. Just call up the power and kill him. Get this over with.

He was near her now, close enough to touch, and he clasped her shoulders, running his hands down her outer arms.

"You are so beautiful." He whispered the words softly, so no microphone would capture them. "Like no other woman my eyes have seen, Brigit of the Vahmpeers."

She shivered at his touch, and wanted more in spite of herself.

"We are mortal enemies," he went on, leaning low, running his lips over her ear and down to her neck. "You have come to kill me, have you not? To finish what you began in those northern woods, where you slept in my arms instead?"

She swallowed hard, telling herself to pull back from his touch, but instead tipping her head back, giving him more access, relishing the feel of his lips on her skin. She shivered as he moved her veil aside and mouthed her neck, loving the sensations rushing through her, making her tremble with delicious pleasure.

"I...I have no choice, Utana."

He sighed, hot breath caressing her so that her blood felt like thick molten lava.

"Unless...unless you give up this insane quest to wipe out my people."

"Like you, beautiful one, I have no choice. Know that it is not my will. Know that I feel as if a blade is twisting deep inside my heart when I think of the blood on my hands. Your people-they are my people, too."

Her eyes burned. "I can't let you kill them."

"I can't let them live."

"Utana, please-"

"Shhhh." His fingers removed the veil from her face. "These are not the words I want between us just now, my lovely moonlight dancer. No. I want sounds of passion from you, sounds of pleasure. Not talk of death."

"I-" She bit her lip.

"Say it. Do not deny me the truth. Not if I'm destined to return to the living death from which your brother raised me."

Trembling, she nodded against his head, his face. "I want you, too. God help me, Utana, I've wanted you since I first laid eyes on you."

"Thank the gods." He kissed her then, and she fell against him, lifting her arms, despite her handcuffed wrists, to lower them around his neck as she opened to his kiss, fell into it and felt as if she were plummeting headlong into a bottomless well of utter yearning.

Reaching behind his head, he freed her from the cuffs with no more than a flick of his fingers, never breaking the hold of his lips, his mouth. His hips arched against her, and her stomach knotted tighter, feeling his arousal pressing into her belly.

Nuzzling her neck, he slid his hand downward, breaking the chain that held her ankle...an act that reminded her sharply why had she had not done so herself. "They might be watching us, Utana. You said yourself, you felt observed here," she said as he moved with her along the side of the bed, and then, his arms around her, lowered her onto it, and himself with her.

The hand that was caressing her shin moved slowly up the outside of her leg, lifting her swirling skirts as it did. With a wave of that strong hand, the heavy curtains surrounding the bed reacted. They moved as if a gust of wind had caught them, closing themselves around the mattress. Closing out the whole world. The war that was raging between vampire and human. The horrible acts he'd committed. The hateful one that she must soon commit. All of that was gone.

"This is an oasis in the harshest desert sands," he told her. "This time, this place, this moment between us. A paradise we must savor to its fullest, for it will never come again."

"Yes," she whispered. She smiled against the top of his head as he moved down the front of her, kissing the swell of her breasts above the tiny top.

"Never have I seen the dance so...enchanting. So powerful. And it...is from my time, not yours."

"So is the woman who taught me," she whispered. "Give or take a few thousand years."

"I shall thank her one day."

Those words sent a chill through her as a visual appeared in her mind. The image of Utana meeting her beloved aunt Rhiannon-and then blasting her with the beam of his eyes, as he had done to so many others.

Her passion cooled, and she was racked with guilt. "Will you thank her before or after you murder her?"

She pushed against his chest, turning her body to one side as he blinked down at her in confusion. She closed her eyes. "I can't do this. Get off me."

"Brigit-"

"Get off." She shoved hard, throwing some of her preternatural strength into it, and he landed on his back beside her. He was breathing hard. Hell, so was she.

She steeled herself, called up that image of Rhiannon being blown to bits in order to fuel her resolve, and got to her feet.

"Are you leaving me, then?" he asked, as she crossed the room toward the door.

"Yes. In a moment, but first..." She couldn't meet his eyes. "I'm sorry, Utana. But there's no other way." And she lifted her hand, palm up, fingers lightly resting against her thumb, and she called up the power.

"Your heart is harder than I ever imagined," he whispered.

"Not really," she told him, tears streaming down her face. "This is going to shatter it. But I have no choice." And in one act of pure will, she opened the channels, for the power to rise up and shoot from her eyes as she flicked her fingers open. Tears were streaming, but she kept her focus and flinched at the moment when he should have been raining down around her in tiny pieces.

Except nothing happened.

Frowning hard, she stared at her hand, at him sitting there, as realization dawned. He hadn't even moved to defend himself. He'd just sat there, waiting. And he looked furious with her now.

"What...? How...?" She stared at her open palm, feeling no hint of the tingling energy she'd felt her entire life. You...you took my power?

That night in the forest, he admitted, speaking mentally, just as she had. As you keep saying, Brigit, there was no other way. You would have killed me, as you have just proven, or forced me to kill you, and I did not want to do that.

She released a short, clipped breath that was part exasperated sigh and part bitter laugh, her head lowering. "But you're going to do it anyway. Your imaginary freakin' gods have commanded it, right? And you're not man enough to stand up to them."

He was silent, and when she dared peer up at him again, she saw that he was seething. She'd gone too far.

"I have beseeched the Ancient and Mighty Ones to make you an exception to their decree. Perhaps, however, you are not as worthy of that as I once believed."

"I'm not. Of my entire race, I'm the least worthy. I'm the evil one, the destroyer, or at least I was. I'm the first one you ought to murder, Utana, because I swear to God, if you let me live I will kill you. I'll find a way."

"And what god do you swear to, Brigit? An imaginary one of your own?"

Her eyes narrowed, and Brigit vamped up. Her fangs elongated as she surged toward him, growling low, and about to pummel him senseless with vampiric strength and speed.

He caught her wrists and tugged her against his chest, clasping her head and hiding it there against his hot skin. "Enough!" And then, silently, Do not give yourself away, Brigit of the Vahmpeers. Nashmun will have you killed if he learns what you are.

She stood there, tense and trembling. No, he wouldn't. He'd put me in a lab somewhere, to be experimented on by doctors and scientists. You know damn well my brother and I are the only two of our kind.

She retracted her fangs all the same. Then she pulled away, dashing tears from her cheeks and turning toward the door.

With her peripheral vision she saw him flick a hand and heard the lock turn. "I'm afraid I cannot let you leave, my lady."

She went still, an icy finger of dread dragging itself down her spine.

"You will be my personal servant here for the duration. You will abide by my will and do as I command, for as long as I decree it so."

Turning slowly to face him, she said, "Do you really think your right-hand man is going to allow that? I'm a citizen in his employ." As far as he knows, that is. "He has a responsibility to protect me."

"He is loyal to a fault and worships me as his king. He will do whatever I command-as, little one, will you."

He's using you, lying to you. He's playing you, Utana.

Do you think I'm not aware of that? He treats me well, and his nation honors me, because they need me to do what I must do anyway. No. Holding his gaze she shook her head.

No, Utana. Listen to me. All of those dignitaries at the celebration earlier were frauds. Those were not our world's leaders. They were actors, in Nash's employ, and not very good ones at that. And I'm ninety-nine percent certain our government leaders have no idea what he's really doing.

He was silent for a very long moment. And then, at length, he nodded. I was one of the greatest kings of my time, Brigit. A priest to the most powerful gods of creation. I am not an imbecile.

She shook her head in disbelief. If you know he's using you, then why the hell are you here?

Frowning, he waved a hand at the luxury that surrounded him. Need you ask?

No. No, he was lying to her now. Trying to save face, she thought.

Yet Nashmun must make me go on believing his lies, mustn't he? He must play the role, and so he will do as I command in this matter. He will keep you here, in chains if necessary, to see to my needs, in order to preserve the illusion he's worked so hard to create here.

Brigit searched his face, looking for a way to reach him and finding none. When he has what he wants from you, Utana, he will kill you. And he will send me away to be tortured in the name of science.

No mortal is capable of taking my life, he assured her, and his confidence and power came through with the thought. And yet, once I have done the task the gods command me to do, I will have no great desire to go on living. Far better I join my people in the Land of the Dead, where I must send them before me. I deserve no less. But this I promise you, no one, mortal or otherwise, will lift a finger to harm you while you are in my care.

Right, she shot back, and she sent her fury with the word. Not until you get around to doing it yourself.

He said nothing, simply walked past her and opened the door. She was not surprised to see Nash Gravenham-Bail on the other side, acting as if he had just been about to knock. She quickly turned away, lifting her veil over her face once more, as Scarface entered the room.

"I will keep her here as my personal attendant," Utana told him. "I will require an abundance of pillows and coverlets that she may have a comfortable place to sleep without crowding me in my bed. And, Nashmun, make it known that she is not to be permitted to leave this place under any circumstances without my consent. And make it known, too, that should any living being do her harm or touch her flesh in passion, I will wipe him from existence. Is that clear?"

"As you wish it, my king," the man said, bowing low.

The lying scum.

He darted a look at her, and she returned it briefly, with one so acidic that it should have melted his skin from his face. Then he backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Brigit watched him go, then turned, refusing to look at Utana, and moved to the window seat to sink onto its red velvet cushions and stare through the glass at the freedom they were all so sure they were denying her.

They didn't know her very well. Oh, sure, she would hang out here for a while. She could lie well enough to make Scarface and the entire DPI look like amateurs. So she would pretend to be beaten. But she had no doubt in her mind that she could walk out of this place anytime she decided to go.

And she would. Right after she murdered the man with the biggest ego she'd ever seen. He was a fool to keep her here. He should have thrown her out as fast as humanly possible. But instead he'd given her the opportunity to study him, to watch and observe and find his weakness. He must have one. And when she learned what it was, she would use it to wipe him from this planet once and for all.

She would be his prisoner-his harem slave, if necessary. But only until she figured out how to kill him.