Chapter One

The Silver Chalice was vintage Vegas in deep reds and golds. Whatever it was, the place managed to carry off the Rat Pack feel but made it modern and clean while also seeming luxurious. Hunter Corporation owned the residence tower to the south of the main casino floor and hotel. A nice sideline and a way to have heavy security without being too obvious.

Outside the revolving glass doors, the air was still warm. The streets teemed with tourists. Rowan understood the allure of being lost, of choosing to be someone or something else even for just a few days.

Vegas was a big game of pretend for a lot of people. And why not? Most had a great time and didn’t go too far. Some stepped far enough out of line to have secrets to carry for the rest of their lives.

Some didn’t go home at all.

In the circular drive just outside the doors, her valet, David, waited next to her Porsche. Even vessels for goddesses had guilty pleasures. Some women liked shoes and Coach bags. Rowan loved fast cars. The sexy sound of the engine always charged her blood. Something about the power that lurked there beneath the hood intoxicated her.

David nodded as he opened the door. She slid inside, the leather smooth and supple against her back and legs.

“The Scion sent a call for you to come to his office, Déesse.” He called her goddess because he knew what she was. “He says he needs to see you tonight. He was informed that should you find it in your schedule, you’d return his call.” Efficient and not entirely humorless, David had served the Hunters his whole life as Rowan’s father had served the Vampires. She hoped it ended better for David.

“Always so urgent, these Vampires. You’d think with such long lives they’d be more relaxed.” Arrogant bastard. Not an unusual trait for a Vampire. They did arrogant like no other species she’d ever dealt with. She wondered if this one would be as pompous as the last one.

David hid a smile and stepped back as she made to pull away from the drive. “Be safe, Déesse. The policeman was also looking for you.”

She smiled at the mention of Jack.

“Thank you, David. Have a lovely evening.”

He inclined his head and she pulled away, maneuvering around the knot of drunken people being delivered into cabs and vans in the drive on her way out.

After she’d pulled safely out onto Las Vegas Boulevard without mowing down any civilians, Rowan called Jack.

“’Bout time you called back, Rowan.”

“I’m sure all you do all day is lay around and wait to hear from me.”

He snorted.

“What’s up?”

“What’s up? Gone for months and…” He sighed. “Listen, can you meet me for a drink? Come by the station, we can grab a bite or something.”

“Can it wait a few hours? I have a prior engagement but it shouldn’t take overlong.”

“I’m not gonna be here in two hours. I can come to your place or you can come to mine. Only I live in a townhouse a ways from town and you live in a swank apartment on the Strip. Personally I like your place better.”

She laughed, despite herself. “Fine. I’ll meet you at my apartment in two hours. I’ll instruct David to let you in if I’m late.”

“Fine. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay.” She hung up and called David to let him know Jack would be coming over. She didn’t need to tell him to keep Jack on the first floor. David was relentlessly efficient and she knew he always took care to keep the Hunter Corporation part of her life as secret as possible. Humans didn’t know about Hunter Corporation but for a few key people in G8 countries and those serving Hunter Corp. Jack thought she was a private investigator. It kept them both safer that way.

In a handy bit of coincidence, by the time she’d finished arranging things, she’d reached Die Mitte, the casino/hotel run by the Vampire Nation. Oh, if those tourists only knew. Die Mitte meant “The Center” in German. It was the center of Vampire politics and jurisdiction in Las Vegas. The Scion ruled the local Vamps with an iron fist.

Once she’d stopped the Porsche, the valet rushed forward. When he saw who she was, he inclined his head slightly. Not quick enough for Rowan to miss the hatred and distrust in his eyes. Still, the awe tingeing the edges of that hatred was enough for her. The moment she got out, one of the Scion’s toadies rushed toward her with a sycophantic smile. Rowan didn’t return it.

There were times she wished she could be softer, but soft meant people took advantage or saw it as weak. She couldn’t afford to be anything but cold and hard. Even if it left her alone in bed at night.

Mr. Toadie’s smile edged into a smirk. “Mr. Stewart is ending a business call, Ms. Summerwaite. Please come with me and I’ll escort you up to his quarters. He appreciates your coming to see him this evening.”

She looked through him, dismissing any potential threat. “He should. I’m not an employee. He can’t just call me when he gets the urge to meet a Hunter face-to-face.” She didn’t wait to see the flinch the toadie gave when she used the H word.

There was a reason they flinched, a reason they all hated and feared not only Rowan but the Hunter Corporation. For centuries, the Vampires had marauded across the world, preying mercilessly on humans. It was, after all, their nature to do so. Until a group of priestesses, mages, holy men and women and other warriors stood together and waged war on the Vampires beneath the veil of secrecy while humans had no idea the paranormal not only existed but threatened to exterminate them.

Everywhere Vampires pushed, Hunters pushed back until there was no ground left. Vampires, however, would not have existed as long as they had without being pragmatic beings, and so they entered into negotiations with those Hunters and from that the treaty was forged and the Vampire Nation was born.

The Vampire Nation didn’t like Hunter Corp. and Hunters hated the Vampire Nation but as far as Rowan was concerned, neither could exist without the other. For better or worse.

Mr. Toadie kept his mouth shut as he led her into the private elevator to the top floor. When the doors opened, she had to admit she was impressed. Her penthouse was luxurious. This place was a freaking palace.

The last man to hold the position had lived in a mansion just outside the city. Just like him, the place had reeked of trying too hard.

By contrast, the new Scion had damned good taste and a whole lot of money. His quarters took up pretty much the entire top floor of the hotel. Lush white carpets alternated with Italian tile and Persian rugs. Antiques and expensive paintings dotted the place in an unobtrusive fashion. Yes, it was clear wealth ruled the space, but it wasn’t the kind of place most powerful Vamps had. It didn’t scream new money, it emanated with the surety of class.

Clive Stewart was old money. That much was obvious. She knew he’d had five centuries to amass capital, but money, even five-hundred-years’ worth, couldn’t buy class.

The Hunter Corporation had given her a dossier on Clive Stewart and she’d read it on the way back to Vegas from London.

She’d had a less-than-personable relationship with the last Scion. Oh, okay, so she staked him. Which made for a huge political problem for nearly eight months as she had to prove it was a defensible kill and that Jacques Martin had broken their laws.

The dossier was full of examples that told her the new Scion was capable of total ruthlessness. Other Vampires feared him and The Powers That Be admired his business sense and ability to keep his population in check. So much so that he’d been near the top of the Vampire Nation power structure for the last four-hundred-and-fifty years. Vampires respected and feared one thing—power. If Clive Stewart had held that much for that long, he’d be a force to be reckoned with. She didn’t want to be impressed.

She stood, looking out the windows over the Strip, watching the fountains at the Bellagio. In the background she heard him come in.

“Ms. Summerwaite, thank you for coming to see me.”

She turned. Well. That was unexpected. Holy shit, the man was delicious. No. The Vampire was delicious. Tall and substantial, he wore his Armani suit well. His eyes were a brilliant green. A blunt jaw framed lips that looked absolutely lickable. He was a big man. Imposing. The accent was quite nice. Like caramel.

She gave herself a mental slap. Focus! He’s a Vampire and therefore off the menu.

“If I hadn’t come, you’d have pestered me endlessly until I did. Next time, ask instead of commanding me. I’m not one of your minions.”

His eyes flared for the briefest of moments but the mask never slipped otherwise. That little dig would have pushed a lesser man into a snit, but he wasn’t a lesser anything apparently.

“Would you like something to eat or drink?” He waved at a long bank of couches and she sat, crossing her legs. His control impressed her even as she began to wonder what it might take to make him lose it.

“No, thank you. I’d prefer you get to the point, Scion.”

He inclined his head and sat across from her. “Please, call me Clive. Since you’re newly returned and I’m here in charge now, I thought an introduction would be of use to us both. And I’d like to get some ground rules laid down. Just for safety’s sake.”

She raised a brow at his haughty tone. “You’d like to lay down ground rules? As far as I know, those are laid out in the treaty. I can retrieve a copy for you if you’re unfamiliar with it.”

“Ms. Summerwaite, I’m aware of the treaty’s tenets. I like to avoid murders on my watch. It costs me money. I don’t like that. There’s no need to be defensive.”

She realized then he was pushing her buttons too. She wasn’t sure if that irritated her more than it amused her.

“I’m pleased to hear that. I’d like to avoid murders on your watch too. My superiors’ll be relieved you plan to keep your people in line.”