She licked her lips as if there was still a trace of blood left. I saw a flash of regret on her face as she stared at Samuel, as if she wished no one had stopped her.

"If I had killed him, there would have been war." She looked away from Samuel and met my eyes-but nothing happened. She frowned at me, but seemed less surprised than I was. But maybe the little sheep who must have protected me from her magic was still at work. She tapped her long, manicured nails together, looking as if she were considering something.

"We would be badly outnumbered," Stefan said, when she said no more. He gathered himself visibly before getting to his feet. "If war broke out, we would be forced to leave this country."

She stilled, as if his words were of great significance. "To leave this cursed desert and return home "-she closed her eyes-"now that is a prize that many here might risk my wrath to gain."

The other vampires were stirring by then. I moved between them and Samuel, trusting Stefan to keep his mistress off us. As they rose, they seemed to be more focused on Samuel than on Marsilia. Like most everyone else tonight, they ignored me as they slowly began closing in.

"Wake up, Sam." I nudged him with the heel of my foot.

Stefan said something in liquid tones with the unmistakable cadence of Italian. Like they were in a peculiar game of "Swing the Statue," the other vampires simply stopped moving, though it left some of them in awkward poses.

"What's wrong with Samuel?"

I asked the question of Stefan, but it was Marsilia who answered. "He is bespelled by my bite," she said. "Some do die of the Kiss, but it will probably do no permanent harm to a werewolf. If I were less, then he would not have succumbed." She sounded pleased.

"Then how did Lilly manage?" asked Stefan. "It wasn't a full Kiss, but he was in thrall."

She crouched by my feet and touched Samuel's neck. I didn't like the way she just kept appearing places, especially when she did it near Samuel who couldn't defend himself.

"That is a good question," she murmured. "He is a dominant, this son of Bran?"

"Yes," I answered. I knew that humans had trouble telling a dominant from a submissive wolf. I hadn't thought the same would be true of a vampire.

"Then Lilly could not enthrall him. But... perhaps she could have been loaned the power." She brought her fingers to her lips and licked Samuel's blood off them. Her eyes were glowing again.

I reached into my shirt and started to draw out the sheep, but a pale hand wrapped around my wrist and jerked me against a body, all cold bone and sinew.

By the time I realized I'd been grabbed, I'd already thrown him. If I'd had time to think, I'd never have tried to throw a vampire the way I would a human, but it was a reflexive thing born of hundreds of hours in the dojo.

He landed right on top of Samuel because Marsilia had gotten out of the way. The creature twisted, and I thought he was coming at me again, but he was after Samuel instead. He struck at Samuel's bleeding neck.

Marsilia jerked her vampire off, leaving torn skin where his fangs had already locked onto flesh. Without visible effort or emotion, she tossed him into the nearest wall. Plaster flew, but he bounced to his feet with a snarl that died as soon as he saw who had thrown him the second time.

"Out, my dears." I noticed that the burn mark on her forehead was healing. "Out before we lose all honor, overcome by such sweetness as is laid out here before us like a tempting feast."

I'd gotten my sheep out finally, but before it started glowing we were alone, Stefan, Samuel, and I.

Chapter 11

There was an elevator hidden behind one of the doors in the corridor. Stefan leaned wearily against the wall; he carried Samuel, who was bloodstained, limp, but still breathing.

"You're sure he's all right?" I asked, not for the first time.

"He'll not die of it," he said, which was not quite the same thing.

The elevator came to a smooth stop, and the doors slid open to reveal a kitchen. Bright lights gleamed on bird's-eye maple cabinetry and creamy stone countertops. There were no windows, but a clever use of mirrors and backlit stained-glass panels made up for the lack. Next to the refrigerator was something I was a lot more interested in, an outside door. I didn't wait for Stefan, but opened the door and ran out to the manicured lawn. As I sucked in a shaky breath of air that smelled of dust and exhaust rather than vampires, I realized that I'd come out of the main house.

"The houses are connected by the tunnels," I said, as Stefan came down the back steps.

"There's no time to talk," grunted Stefan.

I looked at him and saw that he was struggling with Samuel's weight.

"I thought vampires were strong enough to upend trees," I said.

"Not after Marsilia gets finished with them," said Stefan. He shifted Samuel, trying to get a better grip.

"Why not a fireman's carry?" I asked.

"Because I don't want to be carrying him that way when he starts waking up-he's not going to be a happy wolf. This way I can put him down and get out of the way if I need to."

"I'll carry him," said a stranger's voice.

Stefan turned with a snarl and, for the first time ever, I saw his fangs, white and sharp in the night.

Another vampire stood near us, wearing jeans and one of those white, piratey shirts, open to the waist, that you see at Renaissance Fairs and Errol Flynn movies. It didn't look good on him. His shoulders were too narrow, and his flat stomach just looked cadaverous rather than sexy-or maybe I'd just had enough of vampires that night.

"Peace, Stefan." The vampire held up a hand. "Marsilia thought you could use some help."