Elias put the woman in her late forties, but he was basing that on the weight of knowledge in her eyes, because her skin looked like it was made of porcelain, not a single wrinkle or blemish to be found. “Tilda?” Tucker asked.
The woman’s movements were unnatural, as if she was shifting each body part separately to face Tucker. First her head, then her torso, finally her lower half. Elias could only describe it as a graceful version of the robot. “I am she, yes. Proprietor of this place. Famously.”
Roksana lunged onto her side, delivering a kick to Elias’s kneecap and rolling to her feet.
“You better catch her, I suppose,” Tilda said breezily. “If she is to be my gift.”
Elias moved in a blur of speed, wrapping an arm around Roksana’s waist and hauling her back up against this chest. Every time she struggled or drilled an elbow into his gut, the beast inside of him howled in confusion, but she was counting on him to hold it together, so he soothed the beast with a reminder that she’d wear his ring soon. “Your gift is a pain in the ass. Do you want her or not?”
“Oh yes.” Tilda reared back, hand pressed to her throat. “Where are my manners, you must come in at once, of course. Did I hear you mention you’d also brought the marriage decree for Mary?”
Tucker held up the piece of paper between two fingers. “Got it right here, ma’am.”
Tilda’s skin beat in a glowing pulse of light, her eyes taking on a luminescent quality. “Brilliant. I can’t wait for her bastard father to know I got the last laugh.” She patted Luther on the shoulder on her way into Enders. “This way, please.”
Tucker passed Elias with eyebrows raised, mouthing, “She’s fae?”
Elias gave an almost imperceptible nod, tucking Roksana against him and carrying her wriggling form over the threshold, barely quelling the urge to brandish his fangs at Luther as they passed.
Mine, motherfucker.
Enders looked exactly as it had the last time they were there. A bar ran along the right wall, a dance floor in back. Dancers undulated to the frenetic beat on elevated platforms. The atmosphere was dark and dramatic, a lot like most slayers of his experience. Neon phrases had been written on walls, such as send the undead to hell and protect the living.
Not in a million years could he picture Roksana in this place, drinking and reveling in a united purpose to commit murder. Neither one of them belonged in this underworld to which they’d been relegated, did they? Life-altering decisions had been made on their behalf. Their personal choices had been taken away and yet nothing seemed to stop them from continually choosing each other, no matter the consequences.
Would that always be the case for Roksana?
He would always choose her. No questions asked. His loyalty was absolute.
Once this exchange was made with Tilda, however, they would be on their way to Moscow. With Inessa in the picture, up close and personal, Elias was no longer confident in his ability to keep Roksana…with him. She had a deep, complicated allegiance to her mother.
Thus far, she’d been unable to seal the deal and kill him, but if her mother refused to be lenient and demanded his head, what would Roksana do?
What would he do?
The music fizzled to silence in the club, the slayers ceasing their movements in waves, drinks pausing in mid-air at the bar. Customers parted on the dance floor, nodding in deference to Tilda as she breezed through the middle, sneering at Tucker next. They all registered shock when they saw Roksana, but recovered quickly, spitting on the floor in front of her.
“Traitor,” they hissed.
“Judas.”
Roksana jerked out of his hold, settling her feet on the floor. “I can walk,” she snapped at him over her shoulder. Walking behind her as he was, Elias couldn’t see her expression, but the rigid tension in her shoulders didn’t appear to be for show. Nor was the jagged pounding of her heart. It echoed in his ears and the desire to soothe her ate him alive, scrambling his objectivity like the blades of a lawn mower.
Pull back.
Elias focused on her citrus scent and continued through the club, which remained suspended in animation. If he made it through tonight without starting a structure fire, it would be a miracle—
“Oh!” At the head of their human convoy, Tilda turned and clapped her hands twice. “I almost forgot. The vampires have brought you all a gift.” She lifted a hand and released a sprinkling of glowing sparks. They whirled in an arc above Tucker, twisting to stop above Roksana’s head, blinking and dancing. “The traitor slayer is all yours. I could tell you to be firm yet fair, but I’d rather save my breath. Paint the walls with her blood, if you must, just keep the noise down.” She cupped a hand around her mouth and whispered, “Mary is sleeping upstairs.”