“Quinn! You look gorgeous,” I said as she greeted me with a hug.
“You do, too. I love your dress.” She grabbed my hands and smiled. “And gloves, I see.”
“I’m trying to blend in,” I muttered.
“As if Julian Rousseaux’s girlfriend blends in,” she said with a laugh. We looped our arms together, and she steered me toward an empty corner. “You are the talk of the night.”
“What? Me?” My stomach flipped over. I could only imagine what Sabine had been telling people.
“Someone let it slip that the eldest Rousseaux was off the market. There are a lot of broken hearts here tonight. I’d watch your back,” she advised.
“He’s hardly off the market,” I said with a frown. Not that I wanted to advertise that either.
“But you’re here,” she said.
“Yes, I am. So?”
“Humans aren’t invited to the Salon du Rouge,” she whispered, looking around as if she was worried she’d been caught sharing secrets with me.
“You’re a human,” I pointed out.
“I’m a witch. Trust me, to them it’s not the same thing.” She shook her head. “The only time a human attended the Salon–”
But before she could finish, a gong rang out. Conversation instantly died, and everyone turned toward the sound.
Naturally, Sabine was the one standing there, a mallet in her hands. She placed it on a silver tray, which was immediately whisked out of sight along with the antique brass gong. Did they have a gong for everything? Her black hair was swept into a tight bun at the top of her head. Black liner curved into dangerous points at the corner of her eyes. But it was the white silk gown she wore that demanded attention. It left nothing to the imagination.
“Vampires must have good genetics,” I muttered. Quinn giggled next to me.
“Most of them. Why do you think so many of us want to be turned?” she said softly.
I remembered what Jacqueline had said about marriages between vampires and familiars. It seemed Quinn hoped to be made into a vampire if she took a husband of her own.
Before I could ask her about it, Sabine began to speak.
“Welcome to the Salon du Rouge,” she said. Excitement rippled through the room at her announcement.
“Tonight, you will learn exactly what is required of each of you to serve as a proper vampire wife.”
“This ought to be good.” A few women nearby glared at me, and I fell silent.
“The Salon is one of our most ancient traditions, and attending it is a privilege.”
I barely stifled a laugh. She made it sound like we were joining a sorority.
“For most of our familiar friends, this is your first Salon. You must understand that what happens here is not spoken of outside these walls. The secrets you learn here must never be divulged.”
Butterfly wings fluttered in my stomach as she spoke. I glanced around and discovered I wasn’t the only one who looked nervous. Several familiars, in their red outfits, were eyeing the door.
“Tonight, we share freely with each other so that each of you–vampire or familiar–will be prepared to take the remaining Rites.”
People began to whisper around me. I turned to Quinn, whose eyes had widened. “Remaining?”
“Tonight, you will be tested,” Sabine said over the murmurs of the crowd. Turning back, I found her eyes watching me as she announced, “Welcome to the first Rite.”
CHAPTER FORTY
JULIAN
Somewhere in Paris, my mother and my girlfriend were in the same room. I just hoped they were both still alive. I paced the length of the sitting room, one eye on the clock over the mantel and another on my phone. I’d lost my damned mind. This was all because Jacqueline had put ideas in my head.
Thea wasn’t my mate.
She couldn’t be. In my nine hundred years I’d jumped between relationships and beds. And I’d been around long enough to know that mating was a pretty story that vampire mothers told their children at bedtime. It was a fairy tale. Nothing more. No one I’d known had ever actually mated with anyone.
I sent another message to Jacqueline, who was definitely avoiding me. I wanted to know how much she’d told Thea and what exactly happened at the Salon du Rouge. My mother promised it was harmless. If there was some possibility of a relationship with Thea, the sooner I got my family on board, the better.
Hughes entered the room and watched me for a second. I could only imagine what he thought of my agitation. “Sir, you have guests.”
That was the problem with being in Paris. Acquaintances were bound to turn up. I thought I’d have a few more days before I had to welcome any. I sighed. “Show them in.”
Wandering over to the antique bar cart in the corner, I poured myself a Scotch and braced myself for small talk. Maybe it would distract me from the wild panic that had enveloped me in Thea’s absence.
“Nice digs, governor,” a cheerful voice called, and I turned to find my brother Benedict standing with an unopened bottle of Scotch. Sebastian was next to him. “I brought a housewarming present.”
I crossed the room in two strides and greeted him with a hug.
“You never hug me when I come to visit,” Sebastian complained. But he was already prowling around the room, and when he reached the velvet sofa he dropped into it, kicking his feet up.
