CHAPTER 1

Pray do not press your Guardian dictum upon me again. "Appearances are almost always deceiving"—how preposterous! I am beautiful and charming, and that is all my appearance promises. Any in Society who are disappointed when they do not find more cannot fault my countenance. The deception is not mine; they have deceived themselves. But let them continue to look, whether they are fools or no; I rather enjoy it.

No club should be so crowded at nine o'clock in the evening; drinking and dancing should never reach such animated heights until one o'clock. Two, if it were summer. Any earlier, and it gave the appearance that one came to drink and dance, as if such things were to be pursued for themselves rather than as a means to more pleasurable activities.

It was almost vulgar, and Colin Ames-Beaumont watched with no small measure of dismay as the early crush of people became a smash. Perhaps buying Polidori's had been a terrible mistake. Restoring the nightclub had been an obsession that had quickly burned out, and whatever lingering interest he'd had was quickly snuffed when a human woman with waist-length ebony hair and a horror of a black leather dress slithered up to his private table.

A techno beat pounded through the club, reverberated through his chest. Sumptuous golds and reds enfolded the lounges; the dance floors vibrated with energetic blues and greens. The music was good, the décor excellent; becoming a cliché was not.

Colin resisted the urge to glance down and confirm that his charcoal-gray trousers and ivory cashmere sweater had not been transformed into a tuxedo, complete with satin-lined cape.

And to think he'd been charmed the first time he'd seen Bela Lugosi sweep onto the stage.

A smile curved the woman's blood-red lips, but it failed when her gaze ran over his face. He heard the startled catch of her breath, the sudden increase in her heartbeat.

Colin loved it when they did that.

The male vampire who'd been observing her from one of the second-level lounges did not; Colin heard his growl between the pulses of electronic music. More black leather, a studded collar—he blended with half of Polidori's human clientele, and most of the undead.

Though she didn't move, the woman in front of Colin seemed to flail about, trying to reclaim some of the seductive posture with which she'd started. He'd disrupted her without effort, without expression, but now Colin's smile came easily.

As he intended, she regained her confidence, if not her sense. Bracing her palms on the tabletop, she leaned forward and gave him a view of her ample cleavage. "May I buy you a drink?"

Oh, good God. Could they not have come up with something more original? How did they expect him to respond? I never drink…wine.

"No," Colin said, "but if it's free, I will take a sip." He slid his fingers across the back of her hand. She shivered, and his smile widened.

There was lust in her involuntary response, but also fear. Very good. It was foolish of them to approach him this way. Grasping her wrist, he pulled her around the table. After a brief hesitation, she sat on the cushion next to him. Her gaze never left his face, and her tongue flicked out to touch her lips. Her breathing deepened and slowed as she lifted her hair away from her neck.

Colin brushed his thumb over the pulse beating at her throat. "I can make it very good for you," he said softly, and rasped his teeth against her skin. Her lips parted on a gasp. How long would it take?

Not long. The vampire abandoned his post in the lounge.

Only a short lesson, then. Colin's fangs sank deep. He controlled his descent, contained the pleasure of it—and sent the bubbling ecstasy back to her, let it course through her bloodstream. She stiffened and shuddered as the orgasm hit her, tiny cries breaking from her throat.

Copyright © 2007 by Melissa Khan.