The witch was striding toward Penny’s car, she realized, her steps intent.

“Go,” she shouted, slapping the dashboard. “Go now!”

“What? Why?”

“Move!”

Penny threw the car in Reverse and stepped on the gas. Tires screeched. Gravel sprayed. The car snaked a corner, and Mary Ann thudded against her window. They straightened out, speeding down the road, the crowded square soon becoming a distant speck in the rearview mirror.

Only problem? Two wolves were now running alongside them—and neither was Riley. One had white fur, like snow, and the other brown and red. Friends? Enemies? There was no time to reason it out. The farther down the road they went, the farther away the wolves edged from the car. Finally, Mary Ann couldn’t see them at all.

“Okay. What was that about?” Penny demanded, out of breath though they’d done nothing physical.

“I—I don’t know,” she lied. Damn it! Had she blown everything? Probably. Now the witches knew she’d been there, watching. What was the chance the witch would return tomorrow?

She sighed, trying not to despair. Guess she’d find out. After she told Riley, Aden and Victoria what she’d done and they lectured her for her stupidity, of course.

Penny was right. This sucked.

WITH HER HEAD HELD HIGH, Victoria led Aden down a long—long—line of richly dressed vampires. He saw black velvet robes draping the females, jewels of every color sewn into the fabric, and silk shirts and pants on the men. There was a sweet perfume coating the air, a scent that thickened as he made his way up a dais, where a throne of the deepest ebony rested. A scent that thankfully canceled out his perfume.

Weird symbols were etched over every inch of the throne, symbols that seemed to hum with power, enveloping him as he sat, then holding him in place as if manacles encircled his wrists and ankles.

Victoria placed herself at his right and Riley his left, and the line started moving forward. Introduction after introduction was made. Male, female, young, old. Too many names and faces to remember, especially in his current, foggy condition.

Some regarded him hopefully, some with disdain. Some looked past him to the large tapestry that hung along the wall. He didn’t have to turn to know what image was woven there; it was burned into his mind forever. In it, Vlad the Impaler viciously fought an angry, determined mob. They had pitchforks; he had a bloody sword. At his sides were countless pikes—each with a human head perched at the top. Was that what these vampires would expect from Aden?

Most likely. He should care, he thought. Just then, he cared about nothing.

As the introductions continued, he found himself tuning out the voices and studying his surroundings. Even without Elijah, Julian and Caleb tossing out their opinions about everything every few seconds, Aden was still distracted, unable to concentrate. A long red carpet stretched from the dais to the front double doors. The same swirling symbols that decorated the throne also decorated the carpet.

There were no lamps present, only elaborate candela-bras that produced flickering golden flames and ribbons of black smoke. On each side of the room were, strangely enough, stone steps—or bleachers—broken only by the four round columns stretching to the domed ceiling. They led to a platform where uniformed guards stood, swords strapped to their sides.

Humans sat on the steps. He knew they were humans because their skin ranged in color, from slightly tanned to darkest of mocha. Plus, their facial features lacked the perfection of the vampires. They, too, wore robes, though theirs were bereft of both jewels and sleeves. Easier access to their pulse points that way, Aden supposed. And he didn’t have to ask them if they wanted to be here. They were watching the vamps with unabashed longing in their eyes.

Blood-slaves, he thought then. Victoria had once told him that humans quickly became addicted to a vampire’s bite. Aden hadn’t believed her at the time. He believed her now. Since then, she’d bitten him twice and each time had been…heaven. Her teeth produced some sort of chemical or drug that numbed a human’s skin, then sweetly burned their blood.

“And finally,” Victoria said from beside him, returning his thoughts to the present, “I’m pleased to introduce you to my sisters.”

They’d reached the end of the line already? How long had he been casing the room?

“The first,” she continued, “is the Princess Stephanie.”

A beautiful blonde stepped forward and inclined her head in greeting. Like the others, she wore a robe. Until she reached up and pushed the material from her shoulders, and the thing whooshed to the floor, pooling at her feet. She lifted her chin, practically daring him to object. At least she’d had clothing on underneath the robe. Now she wore a black T-shirt with a jewel-studded rainbow in the center—the makeup on her face matched perfectly—as well as black jeans and bright red boots that hit her knees.

When he said nothing about her wardrobe switch, she relaxed.

As she chewed her gum, her green gaze roved over him. “Cute,” she announced. “And oh, baby doll, you do give off a powerful vibe, don’t you? Makes me want to touch you.”

With your teeth, I’d bet. “Uh, thank you,” he said. Everyone else had said only “My king” or nothing at all. Well, the ones he remembered. “Please don’t be offended, but I’m asking that you…not.”

She grinned, as noncommittal as possible. “So you’re the one who defeated Dmitri, huh?”

“Looks like.” While fists had pounded and blades had slashed, he hadn’t known this was what awaited him if he succeeded. If he had… No, he thought then. No matter what, he would have done what he’d done. His instincts had taken over, and he’d wanted only to eliminate the person who had hoped to eliminate Riley and Mary Ann. And okay, fine, he’d also wanted to destroy the guy who planned to marry Victoria.

Stephanie arched a brow. “So how do you expect to rule us, human boy?”

Human boy. He shrugged; he’d been called worse. “I honestly don’t know.”

She offered him another grin. “Honesty. I like that. It’s different.”

Vlad had lied to his daughters? About what?

“So, listen,” she said. “I’d really love to…toast your victory. What do you say we—”

Victoria stiffened, even grabbed his arms in a protective gesture. Riley, who stood at his other side, merely chuckled.

“We do not drink from our king,” Victoria said stiffly.

What? She’d planned to toast his victory by using his neck as a juice box?

Stephanie tossed up her arms. “Ever?”

“Correct,” Riley said.

Scarlet lips turned down, the lower one sticking slightly out. Her shoulders sagged. “Fine, then, but I have other questions for our future king. Like—”

“Now isn’t the time for that, and you know it,” Riley interjected gently. “Later, princess.”

A moment passed in silence. Then another, “Fine. But I will ask my questions soon. They’re important.”

Riley didn’t back down. “I’m sure they are. As for now, goodbye.”

In a huff, Stephanie picked up her discarded robe, swung around and stomped out of the room. A door slammed.

Only one person remained in the line. The other sister, he thought, her delicate face somehow familiar to him.

Victoria motioned her forward. “This is the Princess Lauren.”

The cool blonde with the crystal eyes inclined her head in greeting. Like Stephanie, she had ditched the traditional robe. Unlike Stephanie, she wore a skintight black leather half top and matching pants. She had real barbed wire wrapped around her wrists and weapons strapped all over her body.

“So you are Aden Stone, the human I’ve heard so much about. I admit there’s a draw to you, as Stephanie said, but you’re nothing like my father.”