Page 29 of Ophelia's Vampire

Not that it matters. Not for a single second.

Her physical reaction is just that—physical. As is mine to her. Reading anything more into it was a mistake then, as it would be a mistake now.

“Ten o’clock,” Ophelia murmurs, shaking me out of the memory.

I follow her gaze to the side of the club, just in time to get a glimpse of broad, bullish shoulders in a suit jacket cut at least half an inch too small. A moment later, two crimson eyes fix first on Ophelia before turning to me. A sharp smile follows, one thatlooks more like a threat than any sort of welcome on Marcus’s arrogant face.

He works his way across the club, and I lean toward Ophelia to get in one last quiet word.

“Are you alright? You’re ready?”

She stiffens again, and I realize it’s another mistake. No doubt she thinks I’m questioning her abilities, undercutting her capability, when in reality I’m not even sure why I asked.

Perhaps it’s the memory of how stricken she was after the cruelty Marcus hurled at her that night on the roof, but I feel the unreasonable urge to put myself between the two of them, though I know she’s more than capable of handling herself.

But there’s no time to explain or elaborate or take the words back as she squares her shoulders and whispers her reply.

“I’m fine.”

“Casimir. Ophelia.”

Marcus’s curt greeting draws our attention. I turn to find that oily smile of his still in place, chest puffed out and arms crossed as he looks imperiously at us both.

“Marcus,” I say, inclining my head in the barest shadow of a nod. “It’s been too long. So good to see you again.”

He jerks his head toward a side exit, one marked for staff only. “Let’s take this little reunion somewhere more private.”

I nod, and offer a hand to Ophelia to help her off her barstool. Marcus’s narrowed eyes track the movement, but he makes no further comment as he turns and cuts another wide path through the crowd. I follow, Ophelia’s hand clasped in mine, as he opens the door and gestures us both through.

It lets out into a hallway leading to the club’s back of house. We’re plunged immediately into gray walls and scuffed beige tiles on the floor, cold fluorescents casting all of us in stark clarity. I blink a few times to get my eyes to adjust. Other thana couple of staff members at the opposite end of the hall, we’re alone.

Marcus props a shoulder against the wall and recrosses his arms. “Cassandra mentioned the two of you might be stopping by. What do you want?”

Apparently we’re forgoing the pleasantries.

“Do we need a reason to stop by and say hello to old friends?”

“Cut the shit, Cas,” Marcus says then turns to Ophelia, raking his gaze along the length of her, pausing for a moment at my mark on her neck. “Looking good, Ophelia. What’s it been? Six years? Seven?”

She pastes a thin smile on her face. “Something like that.”

Again, the undeniable urge to put myself between them wars with the better sense that keeps me where I am.

“We had the good fortune of running into Cassandra yesterday, and had hoped we might speak with you about—”

“Ran into?” Marcus scoffs. “From what I hear, this one has been stalking her for weeks, at least when she’s not inserting herself into coven business.”

He gives only a brief nod to Ophelia, a bare acknowledgment of her presence as he addresses me directly, like she’s not even there.

I bristle, both at the interruption and the disrespect, but Ophelia speaks before I can.

“So let’s clear it all up,” she says evenly. “Let’s sit down and discuss what’s been happening with the—”

“Not here.”

With no further explanation, he turns and continues down the staff hallway. Ophelia and I share a brief glance, a silent conversation that passes with a shrug, a raised brow, an unspoken consensus that the danger doesn’t seem too great to go wherever it is he’s leading us.

If it were anyone but Marcus, or any coven but Philippe’s we were dealing with tonight, perhaps I’d be a little more concerned about following him to some unknown second location.

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