Into the Spotlight Read Free Page B

tongue after years of disuse. “They call me Pandora.”
    “Which would you prefer?” A woman could become lost in his eyes. Twin celestial pools beckoning her to bathe in their warmth.
    Jeannie leaned forward, tasting the swirl of dark spice and cumin in the air. “I’ve been Pandora so long that it feels naughty to prefer Jeannie.”
    The corners of his mouth curled up into a deeper smile, wickedness teasing the corners of his eyes. “Then by all means, you must allow me to call you Jeannie.”
    “I think I would like that.”
    “As would I.”
    “What can I get for the two of you?” The waitress punctured the moment. Ferocity darkened Malcolm’s expression, his eyes cooling to hard ice. The waitress took a full step back from the venom.
    Another thrill shot through Jeannie’s stomach, loosening an intoxicating wave of emotion. Her heart thumped a pleasant three-beat cadence as though crying out here I am!
    “My dearest Jeannie, what would you like to drink?”
    “Water.” After the show, it was what she needed. “With some lime, please.”
    “I’ll have another.” Malcolm tapped his empty glass, presumably drunk during the show. “Leave us now.” The waitress scooped up the empty glass and escaped. The chill fled his gaze as it came back to Jeannie. She bit the inside of her lip to capture the grin aching to stretch her jaw.
    “You’re a man used to getting what you want.”
    Malcolm shrugged. Long tapered fingers folded together on the table’s edge. They were gentle hands, well-toned and trimmed. She didn’t see signs of manual labor, but would such marks scar a vampire? Or would he merely look his best, as he did now? She knew vampires numbered among their repeat audiences, but she’d never taken the time to talk to one or learn about them.
    She might have, once upon a time, when the world of the Arcana Royale remained fresh and euphoric. But the high lasted only a short time, and the hangover she woke up with had lasted for nearly five decades.
    “You’ve left me.” Malcolm’s voice trod through the muddy water of her darkening thoughts, tugging her back to the present.
    Heat suffused her face. “I’m sorry.”
    “Not at all.” His hand crept across the table and hovered close to hers. The heat of him rolled across her fingers, teasing them, a request and a demand. Jeannie turned her left hand over and lifted her fingers to meet his. Electricity tingled through her arm as he captured her fingers, threading his neatly between them.
    “I meant what I said, that I don’t do this often. I’m afraid I’ve long since forgotten the art of small talk.” The churning in her belly stilled, despite the warmth wrapping her hand. The drink was a bad idea. She should return to the basement and the cells. It would be safer. It would be simpler.
    It would be a sacrifice.
    His grip tightened as though her urge to flee had communicated itself to him, but his words hung unspoken in the air between them when the waitress returned. The succubus delivered the drinks with careful efficiency, avoiding touching or inserting herself between the couple. Jeannie watched Malcolm. His gaze held no rebuke or sense of warning as it had earlier, but the chill in the air sharpened until the vetiver scent retreated.
    She knew the succubus couldn’t help her natural instincts. The menace Malcolm exuded was not cruel, far from it, but it also brooked no argument. Fascination curled through her belly.
    “Would you care for anything to eat?” Malcolm stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, sending arcs of electricity skittering over her flesh.
    Jeannie shook her head, not quite trusting herself to speak as a chaotic mass of need burned through fifty years of numbness, leaving her insides aching with desire.
    How long has it been since someone touched me? Me? Jeannie?
    The touch of his thumb was a mixture of soft and rough whorls. Awareness flashed through her, each gentle stroke an act of intimacy. The need for