Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Dimitri

Dear old dad was definitely up to something. He was yakking it up with Gianna, his silver tongue no doubt filling her beautiful head with who knew how many half-truths. He looped his arm through hers, leading her toward the bar. The scent of her perfume—jasmine and something uniquely her—wafted back to me, mixed with the iron scent of Chosen Blood. Hunger gnawed at me, but I pushed it down. I needed to focus.

I had to find out what lies Petar was spilling to Gianna. According to Jaxon, the Nexus Stone could tip the scales in the eternal tug-of-war between the covens. Dad maybe didn't realize it, but he was playing with fire.

I glanced at the band, an idea coming to me. With vampire speed, I was suddenly beside the lead singer. Our eyes locked, and I felt the familiar rush as I exerted my will on him. "You're going to play a czardas next," I murmured, watching his pupils dilate. "And you're going to make it a good one. Then, on my signal, you're going to switch to a tango."

As the last notes of a waltz faded, I saw the singer turn to his band. Show time.

I slid between the dancing couples, relishing the startled gasps as the humans sensed—but couldn't quite see—me pass. I came to a stop across from Petar and Gianna as they stood having a drink, and the frenetic first notes of the czardas filled the air.

The salty breeze carried the melody of a slow song across the weathered deck of Salem's seaside bar. I watched, my fingers idly tracing the condensation on my glass, as Petar and Gianna made their way to a high-top table. Their drinks clinked softly as they set them down, the sound almost lost in the gentle lapping of waves against the shore.

My eyes never left them, tracking their movements like a predator stalking its prey. I took a slow sip of my drink, the burn of alcohol doing little to dull the edge of my focus. Every muscle in my body was coiled, ready to spring into action.

I bided my time, waiting for the perfect moment to present itself. It was a delicate dance—timing was everything. Too soon, and I'd tip my hand. Too late, and I'd miss my chance entirely.

As the song faded into another, I felt it—that imperceptible shift in the air that signaled opportunity. A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. Showtime.

Setting my glass down with a soft clink, I strode purposefully toward the makeshift dance floor. As I approached, Petar's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"What do you want, son?" Petar growled, his thick accent barely audible over the music and the crash of nearby waves. His eyes narrowed, a clear warning in their depths. "We were in the middle of a business conversation."

I leaned in, a sardonic smile playing on my lips. "Oh, were you? My mistake. I thought I was witnessing a hostage situation." I turned to Gianna, winking conspiratorially. "Blink twice if you need rescuing, princess."

Petar's face darkened, but I pressed on, my voice dripping with mock concern. "You see, from where I was standing, it looked an awful lot like she was succeeding at having a conversation, while you were...well, let's just say trying would be a generous description."

Gianna tilted her head back and laughed, the sound like crystal bells cutting through the sea air. "Do you always steal pickup lines from old movies like Zorro, Dimitri?"

"Only the classics, darling." I winked, then held out my hand. "And plus, I believe you promised me the first dance."

I caught the lead singer's eye and nodded. The band's tempo shifted, and the sultry notes of a tango filled the air, a stark contrast to their previous easy-going tune. Compulsion certainly had its perks.

As Gianna's hand slipped into mine, I savored Petar's scowl. Here, with the moonlit ocean as our backdrop, the game was just beginning.

"Well, Gianna," I purred, extending my hand. "Care to tango?"

"I'm a vampire nearly four hundred years old." Gianna's emerald eyes sparkled with mischief. "Think you can keep up, Dimitri?"

I smirked, pulling her close. One hand on the small of her back, the other clasping hers, I led her in the dance. I could feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of her dress, igniting something savage within me.

We began to move, our bodies in perfect sync. I guided her through the steps with confidence—slow, slow, quick-quick-slow. The tango was a dance of passion, of dominance and submission, of unspoken desires—and I intended to lead this dance in more ways than one.

"So," I murmured as I led her through a slow turn, "what's your bodyguard been whispering in your ear?"

I dipped her low, my face inches from her throat. "Curious, are we?" Gianna teased. "I thought you were just interested in dancing."

She laughed softly as I pulled her back up, our torsos flush against each other. "Oh, I am. But let's just say I'm interested in more than your footwork."

I led us back across the floor, our steps quick and precise. The crowd parted for us, sensing the intensity of our dance.

"He mentioned something about business," I whispered in her ear during a particularly close embrace. "Any idea what he's up to there? "

Gianna's breath hitched, but she followed my lead perfectly. I executed a series of intricate footwork, our legs intertwining.

"He might have mentioned an object," she admitted. "Something...special."

I spun her out, then reeled her back in sharply. "Special how, exactly?"

Her eyes met mine, challenging. "Why should I tell you?"

"Because, my dear," I said, dipping her again, deeper this time, "whatever he's planning, I doubt it's as innocent as he claims. It never is with him."

Intrigue flickered across her face. I lifted her back up slowly. Our lips were almost touching.

"Perhaps," Gianna breathed, "we should continue this conversation somewhere more...private?"

As the last notes of the tango faded away, I became dimly aware of the crowd's applause and Petar's furious glare at us from across the room. But all that really mattered was the woman in my arms and the secrets she might reveal.

I offered Gianna my arm with a roguish grin. "After you, bella. The night is young, and it seems we have much to talk about."

I led her over to the balcony, my hand resting possessively on the small of her back. The moonlight glistened on the ocean, the stars sparkling overhead like scattered diamonds. An ocean breeze swept over us, carrying the tang of salt and the sweet scent of Gianna's perfume. It tousled her hair, sending a stray lock cascading across her flushed face.

Gianna's chest rose and fell rapidly as she continued catching her breath from our dance. I could hear her heart racing, the sound as intoxicating as the finest bourbon. She looked up at me, her green eyes burning with curiosity and something more...primal.

"What did you want to ask me, Dimitri?" Her voice was breathy, inviting.

A million questions raced through my mind, each more pressing than the last. What was Petar up to? Had he talked to her about a magical object? Even as I opened my mouth to speak, I caught sight of dear old dad heading our way, his face a dark storm cloud of disapproval.

Oh no, you don't , I thought. I wasn't done with Gianna, not by a long shot. And suddenly, all my questions seemed...less important.

I tipped my head, drinking in the sight of her. My lips curled into a smile that had made so many women weak in the knees. "You know what, Gianna?" I purred, my voice low and husky. "I just realized I don't want to ask you anything after all."

Her eyebrow arched in surprise. "No?"

I drifted in closer, until I could feel the heat radiating from her skin. "No," I murmured. "What I want," I trailed a finger along her jawline, relishing her sharp intake of breath, "is to know what you taste like."

I bent my head slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. Part of me—a very small part—hoped she would. It would be safer for her. Smarter too.

But Gianna didn't back down. She stood perfectly still, her lips parted in invitation. The scent of her—jasmine, adrenaline, and desire—was intoxicating as any cocktail.

My lips captured hers, and for a moment, the entire world fell away. She melted into my arms with a soft moan that sent fire racing through my veins. I deepened the kiss, one hand tangling in her hair while the other pulled her body flush against mine.

I was vaguely aware of Petar's approaching footsteps faltering, then retreating. Good. Let him stew. Right now, all that mattered was the woman in my arms.

As I reluctantly broke the kiss, I grinned. "Well," I murmured. "That was...illuminating."

Gianna's eyes fluttered open, a mix of desire and wariness in their depths. "Dimitri," she whispered, "what are we doing?"

I chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Oh, darling," I said, my voice a low growl, "you know exactly what we're doing. We're courting disaster. The question is...are you ready to dance with the devil?"