10.

I sat in a plush chair facing the Professor's desk, looking at him nervously. He called me in his office, and I'm sure we were not going to talk about how my classes were going. I felt like a child who had been called to the principal's office for some offense. I fought the urge to look down at my hands. I could get away with half-truths with Logan, Scott, and Jean. The Professor would never probe my brain against my will, but there was just something wrong about lying to him.

I wasn't saying that people should lie to their friends. I was exactly lying to them; I was just keeping the complete truth from them. There is a difference, and when I figure out that difference, I'll let you know. I just didn't want them involved in this sordid affair, and if it was a crime to care about your friends' lives, then I was guilty a thousand times over.

"Please sit, Ororo." The Professor said in the fatherly tone I had grown accustomed to. He laced his fingers, looking at me expectantly. I noted I had picked up that same habit. He was the one who called for this meeting, yet he was looking at me as if I were the one who needed to start talking. After sitting quietly for a few minutes he finally asked, "Ororo, I sense there is something tumultuous happening is in your life."

I nodded solemnly. "You are right. There is something big going on, right now."

"Do you care to discuss it?"

He didn't really have to ask me that question. One look inside my head would've told him everything he needed to know about what was going on with me. That was one of the things I liked about the Professor. He never snooped around in my head—or anyone else's—unless he had permission or it was deemed necessary.

"I would like to confide in you, Professor, but doing so might be dangerous." I wanted to add that perhaps I shouldn't even reside at the school, anymore. I was a threat to his school. His dream could come crashing down around him because I was here.

"Ororo, we are here if you need us. You cannot be afraid to ask us for our help. If you need us, we will abet you. I will help you in anyway I can." The Professor said, and that warmed my heart. He was the only father I'd ever really know, and he had already done so much for me.

"That's all I've been hearing, lately. I know that you all are my friends, my only family, and that's why I want to keep you all out of this. Maybe, that is selfish, but I couldn't bear to look at myself if something happened…" I trailed off, thinking of what could happen to Jean if I failed. I know that my fate at the hands of Sakura would probably be much more severe, but how could I worry about my own fate when Jean's life hung in limbo? I would have gladly given my life if it meant freeing Jean.

"Ororo–"

"No, let me finish, please. I cannot let you or the others get too involved in this, but I think I can tell you what's building the psi barriers." I was going to take Logan's advice and tell the Professor about the vampires in as little words as possible. I wondered how a vampire's telepathic skills matched up against someone like the Professor. If the Professor had been able to get through their barriers, that meant he was at least as strong as they were… right? I wanted to believe that he was. "I think two of the city's master vampires are trying to get in my head."

He looked at me grimly for a moment. "I thought you might say that. Well, actually, I didn't expect you to say that master vampires were the cause of this, but there was empirical evidence that made me think that vampires were the cause for your mental anguish." He sighed.

"Empirical evidence?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow at the professor.

"Yes, when I was trying to break through those barriers, I saw some interesting things," he said, closing his eyes.

"Jean said you weren't able to make sense of those things." I said, my voice becoming low.

"Much of it didn't make sense, but I was able to piece together enough of it to know that the cause was supernatural."

"Why didn't you tell Jean what you suspected, Professor?"

"I wanted to discuss the matter with you before Jean, and now, I'm pretty sure that was a wise decision, seeing as you're so adamant about us not helping you."

I nodded in agreement. So far, the only people that knew anything was going on were the Professor and Logan. "Is there anything you can do?" I asked, hopefully.

"I can continue to try to combat their hold. I was able to get through the barrier, and now that I know what I'm dealing with, I can think of ways to better aid you."

"Thank you," I said, feeling somewhat better. I talked with the Professor a little while longer, taking care not to mention anything that was too risky.

After leaving his office, I promptly went to the kitchen and devoured two slices of cold pizza. In fact, much of the day was spent consuming whatever I could find. If it was edible, I nibbled on it, even if I didn't really want—or like—it. This isn't going to make any sense, but some of this stuff I felt like I was tasting for the first time. Weird, right? Also, I had this intense craving for strawberries. I left the mansion numerous times to fill my strawberry craving. I don't even want to talk about the trials of getting strawberries this time of the year.

I forced myself to take a nap before I got ready to go with Jean-Paul. Rampart dreams of being chased by Vega ensued, but despite my dreams of Vega, I woke up refreshed, ready for whatever they were willing to throw me. I spent a couple of hours in the rec room watching movies with the children. Logan occupied a corner of the room, and although I couldn't see his eyes, I could feel them on me as he puffed on his cigar. It was almost as if he were trying to get inside of my head; that made me nervous. It meant he was planning something, and undoubtedly, it revolved around me.

I just hoped he wouldn't do anything infinitely stupid.

About an hour before sunset, I started getting ready for my night out. I somehow endured a shower with a pulsing headache. What are you doing to me, Vega? I asked, silently. I felt this odd, warm feeling slide down skin. Had he heard me? Were we really forever connected as he said in the dream? Was he with me no matter where I went or what I did? I hoped not. I shivered at the thought of his words proclaiming that we would were one. Goddess, when I see him again, I was going to give him a piece of my mind for toying with my mind.

Then a somewhat scary thought crossed my mind. What if Sakura killed him? Right now, he was probably being held captive in some cross-wrapped coffin, but Sakura was quite volatile. What if she decided holding him captive wasn't good enough. I couldn't worry about him. I would not worry about him. My plate was already full. However, what would his demise mean for me? Would I be affected by his death if Sakura killed him? I swallowed hard and tried to convince myself that that was a ridiculous thought.

I pulled on a backless shirt that tied around my neck and my lower back. I studied the vibrant blue of the lightning; I was hoping the print would keep the attention away from the bruises on my back, or maybe, I did want them to see the bruises. I, unlike everyone else that was going to be there, had no bragging rights. No impressive scars or bites to show off with the other human junkies. All I had were some bruises I got for wrestling with some rats.

Next, I pulled on a pair of snug-fitting, hip-hugger pants with the same blue lightning motif. Two slits that stopped a little above mid-thigh ran up both pant legs and was loosely tied together with strings. As I twirled around in the mirror, I actually felt somewhat sexy in those pants. They were playful and teasing, showing too much skin, yet not enough.

I slipped my feet into a ridiculously high pair of strapped heels and hoped I wouldn't fall. I couldn't remember the last time I wore an outfit of this caliber. This was not a bad clubbing outfit. Too bad it would probably only be worn this one time since I didn't go out much. I was just too busy to be active in the social scene, or maybe, that was my excuse to avoid the social scene.

I stuck with my simple upsweep for my hair; I let a few curled tendrils dance around my face. I refused to do anything fancy to my hair. I looked at my ashen locks and hoped that nobody would recognize me. This was New York, and while I wasn't the only black woman with white hair running around this city, I was the only one whose hair was this color naturally.

Many vampires had heard about me, but never seen me. I didn't make it a habit to hang out on their side of town, and most of the vampires I had run into were now dead.

Last was the make up. I didn't use base, but I swept my skin with this shimmering, compressed powder. It gave my skin a soft, velvet look as opposed to the smooth, shiny, silky look it possessed on its own. I put on the mascara and eye shadow somewhat thick and coated my lips with a deep, ruby lipstick. I looked like a completely different person when I was done. Good, I was going for that "look-like-anyone-but-yourself" look.

I stuck a gun and a silver knife in my purse since I obviously wouldn't be able to hide them on me. I'd hidden the shotgun I acquired the night before in my car. I know. What good is a gun going to do me in the car? I felt better knowing that it was available. I was hoping things wouldn't get ugly tonight, but if push came to shove, I would rely on my natural instincts.

Ororo, I heard Jean's voice float into my head. There's a guy down here for you, and let me tell you he has on one aggressive outfit. I bet if I touched him, he would sizzle.

I laughed aloud despite myself. Just don't let Scott catch you in the act of getting burned, and don't invite my guest in, okay?

Too late. Scott already did. Jean responded. I didn't answer her as I snatched up my jacket and purse and exited my room. I should have told them not to invite him in beforehand. Vampires couldn't enter your home unless invited, and once they were invited in, they could enter any time they wanted. This is reversible, however.

"Hello, Ororo," Jean-Paul said when he spotted me at the top of the stairs. All eyes turned to me, and I nodded at them from the top of the stairs. "You clean up nicely."

"I could say the same about you." I said, eyeing Jean-Paul. Jean was right he was wearing an aggressive, little number. A form-fitting blood, red shirt hugged his torso. It was see-through, of course. I didn't expect anything less of Jean-Paul. You could see every muscle chiseled into that shirt. No need for imagination here, folks.

His shiny, black leather pants threatened to blind everyone in the room. Slung low on his waist, they clung to those his hips like no tomorrow. They almost rivaled Logan's snug fitting pants. I said almost. Jean-Paul's pants deserved an award; Logan's pants deserved an appreciation day. See the difference? Speaking of Logan, where was he? I hadn't seen him since we were in the rec room.

He had a jacket in his hands, and I wondered why he didn't have it on. It was more than just a little chilly outside. I found out a few minutes later when he "accidentally-on-purpose" dropped his jacket. He used exaggerated movements as he bent over to pick it up. I forgot that Jean-Paul loved attention, and that's definitely what he was looking for here.

Just the same, I couldn't resist tilting my head, and I chuckled silently when I saw Jean doing the same thing by Scott's side. Giggling rang from the top of the stairs, and I saw a couple of the girls standing at the top of the steps. I couldn't say that Jean-Paul didn't know how to manipulate a situation to his advantage. Scott cleared his throat, and Jean's head snapped back to attention. A smug smile covered her face as she raised one eyebrow at me.

Jean Paul stood up slowly, a slight smile played on his lips, and I wanted to tell him that he wasn't at the club. He didn't have play up to the female population here. "Jean-Paul, let me introduce you to my friends. This is Scott Summers and Jean Grey." I said, as I at each respective person. I didn't know where Logan was. "Everyone, this is my friend Jean-Paul Beaubier." Take a good look at him, I wanted to say. If I come up missing, they'll know who to search for.

Scott only nodded at him gruffly. I knew Jean-Paul could probably charm him if he really wanted to. Or could he considering the situation? Jean held out a hand, and Jean-Paul locked hands with her. "Have we met before?" Jean asked Jean-Paul, studying his face. She hadn't actually met him unless you counted him grinding the air between them at the club. She shouldn't remember that though. However, she shouldn't have remembered Jean-Paul's face, which made my thoughts stray back to the earlier assumption that more persuasion might be needed with telepaths.

Jean-Paul smiled dazzlingly at her. "No, I don't think so. I would've remembered someone as pretty as you." He playfully tugged a lock of her hair, and she blushed. This earned Jean-Paul a nice glare from Scott. He steered Jean away from Jean-Paul. I can't say that I blame him. I wouldn't leave Jean-Paul alone in the room with anyone.

"Shall we go? I have Carmen outside waiting for us." Jean-Paul said to me. I must've made quite the acerbic face when Carmen's name was mentioned because Jean-Paul actually flinched. He was too human for his own good.

"Well, tell her we'll follow her. We are taking my car." I said firmly, biting back the string of words that I wanted to say. I didn't spend all afternoon finding the perfect hiding place in my car for the shotgun to ride with that treacherous bitch, Carmen.

"Carmen's outside?" Jean asked, looking a bit hurt. Damn Jean-Paul for mentioning her name. She probably thought Carmen and I were buddy-buddy, now. That wasn't the case at all. I didn't know what to say as Jean's face continued to crumble. "Why didn't she tell me she was dropping by? You didn't mention you were going out with her."

I could read between the lines. She really wanted to know why we hadn't invited her to come along. I didn't know what to say or do, and I didn't want to leave Jean there feeling as if we were leaving her out on something fun. I thought about telling Jean that we weren't talking about the same person, but all she would have to do is look outside to see that I was lying.

"Yeah, but she's just showing us how to get to this place, and then, she's going to handle some business of her own." I hoped that like sounded believable. I couldn't think of anything better to say. Damn Carmen and damn Jean-Paul for mentioning her name before Jean. She still didn't look thoroughly convinced, and I quickly exited the house with a muttered goodbye.

"Carmen's waiting for us," he said, pointing at Carmen's car. I nodded and led him to the garage where my car was waiting. Jean-Paul immediately went to Scott's car. I guess I was going to have to stop driving it so much. I had only recently purchased the car of my dreams, so I was still in the habit of driving Scott's car.

"That's not my car." I said. Jean-Paul raised his eyebrows at me.

I pushed the unlock button on my keychain and the lights of my car flashed once. Jean-Paul let out a long, low whistle when he saw what I was driving. He ran his fingers over the smooth exterior of my Audi Cabriolet. It was a Venetian red pearl color complete with a drop top for those long summer days. I saved up for quite a while to purchase that car. It was worth every penny.

"That's my car." I said with a swell of pride.

"I didn't think you were paid that much for being a teacher."

"I don't just teach, remember. Raising the dead is pretty expensive work, and I help out the police every now and then. That money adds up."

"Good point," he said sliding into the car, he ran his fingers over the leather seats. "This isn't the type of car I imagined you driving."

"Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?" I asked. He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment.

"Something more conventional like a Honda or a Toyota, never an Audi. Not saying you aren't a classy woman, but I see fat aristocrats who are desperately clinging to their lost youth driving these cars. But hey, it suits you…" He trailed off and then said, "Not saying that you're fat and old or anything—"

"I know, Jean-Paul." I smiled a little and started the car. This was my last chance to call this off. I sat there for a moment, and then, I pulled off.

Jean-Paul fiddled with the radio, voices and songs blurring together as he looked for a suitable station. "You don't mind do you, Ororo?" He asked after a couple minutes. Why was he asking me that now? He'd already made himself at home in my car.

"No, knock yourself out." I said. He continued to turn the dials, stopping at a station where the opening bars of "And I Ran" were just beginning to play. The only reason I even knew that song was because some of the older children liked to play Grand Theft Auto, and this song seemed to always be playing. I couldn't help smiling as Jean-Paul started singing along to the song, bobbing his head to the beat.

"I walk along the avenue. I never thought I'd meet a girl like you. Meet a girl like you. With ashen hair and coffee eyes, the kind of eyes that hypnotize me through. That hypnotize me through." He pinched my cheek as he sang that. I probably should've slapped his hand away, but I was too amused to do anything but smile like a moron. That was really smooth – changing the words to describe me. It was corny, but in a decidedly cute way. "And I ran, I ran so far away. I just ran, I ran all night and day. I couldn't get away…"

Too bad he was probably working with Sakura against me. He wasn't so bad to be a vampire. Sure he was very overly flirty, but he had a good side about him that seemed to be more prevalent than his other side. I could actually see myself calling him friend, which was never supposed to happen. I could be cordial with vampires, but never had I considered one a friend.

We rode in silence as classic 80's tunes filled the car. I was painfully aware of his eyes on me. I swear I could feel his eyes as they traveled up and down the length of my body. Whether he was regarding me as dinner or as something else, I wasn't sure. Maybe, it was a mixture of both. If that was the case, wouldn't that contradict my earlier statement about him being good?

I could hear him shifting in his seat, sliding toward me; I tried to keep my concentration on keeping up with Carmen who was driving like a bat out of hell. I nearly ran off the road when I felt him slide an arm around my shoulder. "Get away from me," I said, my voice a low growl. I didn't like whatever this was that was going on. It had started out innocently enough, but now, it was too… personal. Too personal, that seemed to be a phrase I was using a lot these days. I elbowed him hard in the ribs for emphasis, and he moved away from me, quickly. "And stay on your side of the car."

"I was just trying to get through the ice princess act. You can't always be as indifferent as you appear to be. You have to have some passion there somewhere."

"I don't need you dissecting me, Dr. Beaubier." I said, sarcastically.

He moved close to me again, this time I could feel his breath on my ear as he asked, "What turns you on?" It took everything I had not to stop the car and stab him with my knife. What the hell was he trying to do?

"When did Valiant first start visiting you?" I asked, nastily. Jean-Paul pulled back from me as if I burned him. I warned him. He tried me, and I retaliated. I glanced at Jean-Paul and his face betrayed fear. I nearly felt sorry for him. I knew the mention of Valiant could be too pleasant. Valiant brought nothing but destruction and chaos to everyone he encountered. I could wait to see the day that I could destroy Valiant.

"Wh-when did you see Valiant? Is he going to be at the party tonight? They promised me he wouldn't be there." Jean-Paul whimpered. His eyes were wide and fear giving him a youthful appearance. I felt sorry for him. He was obviously very scared of Valiant.

"I didn't talk to him," I said in a soothing tone. "Do I look like the type of person that Valiant would talk to?"

"Then, who told you?"

"An informant of mine told me about you. I needed to know if you could be trusted. I probably can't, but I'm putting some faith in you." I answered, honestly. Jean-Paul looked down at his hands. He was so childlike, yet so adult.

"I won't betray you, Ororo. I swear I won't." His voice was barely above a whisper, and I wanted to trust him. Really, I did. But he was a vampire, first and foremost, and he was a junkie, secondly. I think we both really knew better.

"I lost Carmen." I said once I paid attention to the traffic.

"Don't worry. I'll tell you where we're going," he said, his voice still full of that childish resolve.

The neighborhood he directed me to was the picture of perfection. Every house looked the same; every lawn was perfect manicured. In the driveways were nice, family-sized sedans and SUVs. Goddess, we were in the middle of suburbia. All that was missing was the smiling, happy parents with their too perfect children. I couldn't believe that a freak party was held in this neighborhood. Nothing should surprise me anymore, though. I never expected vampires to get rights in the first place.

Before we got out of the car, he told me was expected of people at these parties. Let's say I spent most of that conversation frowning. He said he would protect me, but how did he really expect to protect me from master vampires. Okay, now, was not the time to start freaking out. I asked him to bring me to this place, and I was going to go through with this.

We walked beneath the garage, and I saw a human woman standing at the door. She wore a lacy, white bra with matching panties and garter. Long black hair spilled over her shoulders. I couldn't see her eyes, but she was attractive with her upturned nose and high cheekbones. I couldn't really see her as being the perfect, suburban housewife, but I'm sure she's a lot different in the daylight. "Overdressed am I?" I said to Jean-Paul.

His grip tightened around my waist; his grip tightened when I tried to pull away. "Maybe not for long?" He said, quietly. I looked at him for a moment before deciding that he was just trying to spook me. There was no way I was taking anything off here, of all places. I'd blow my cover before I let anyone—or anything—undress me.

"Hello, Jean-Paul," the woman said when we approached her. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the jaw. I could hear the beat of music pumping from inside the house.

"Hello, Alicia. Where's Roger?" Jean-Paul asked. His tone seemed rather perfunctory as he smiled a tight-lipped smile at the woman.

The woman gestured toward the house. "He's inside, entertaining the guests. And this must be your lovely girlfriend you were telling us about." Her eyes drank in my appearance, and she licked her lips as if enjoying some tasty treat. "You're going to have so much fun, tonight, dear."

Not with you I won't. That's what I wanted to say, but I remained silent, trying to act like the docile girlfriend. I couldn't believe that Jean-Paul was trying to keep up that girlfriend-boyfriend ruse, but I guess it was for the best.

"This is her first party. I don't think she'll be getting into the really, heavy stuff just yet." Jean-Paul said, his voice still mechanical.

Alicia let out a loud laugh. "And if they decide otherwise, who's going to stop them? Surely, not you, Jean-Paul." She said with dismissive wave.

I could feel myself getting angry at this woman for goading Jean-Paul. I mean, sure I knew the statement was true, but what right did she have to make Jean-Paul feel inferior? And… and, what the hell was I thinking? This wasn't about Jean-Paul's feeling. I had to remind myself of that. I had a job to do. I couldn't become attached to some vampire stripper.

We entered the house. It was very dim, nearly dark, but I could make out figures of humans and vampires. The vampires present weren't much older than Jean-Paul, but he said that the master vampires always arrived later. Most of the occupants were huddled together engaged in idle chat. There was a guy dressed in tight, studded leather dancing with a trancelike slowness in the middle of the floor. Jean-Paul told me that was Alicia's husband, Roger.

Carmen was in a corner with a female vampire laughing robustly. I entertained myself with the thought of how easy it would be summon up a whirlwind and send her flying. I couldn't do that, not now at least. Various people greeted Jean-Paul, and he introduced me to every one as his girlfriend, Beauty. Not once did he try to flirt. That scared me more than anything. It was like a bad omen.

He steered me to a couch where we sat stiffly for a moment before a man walked toward us. He was a vampire. I'd say around 60-years-old. Perhaps, the oldest vampire present. He was the color of dark chocolate with large eyes and full lips. He was handsome, but he had a wolfish aura about him that made him seem dangerous. A hungry gleam glittered in the man's eyes as he looked from me to Jean-Paul, and finally, he let his eyes settle on Jean-Paul. I felt Jean-Paul stiffen beside me.

"Jean-Paul!" The man said, his voice deep and pleasant-sounding. He closed in on Jean-Paul, towering over him, exuding a defiant power. "I almost didn't recognize you. You've been hiding from us."

"Hello, Damascus." Jean-Paul said dryly. It was obvious that Jean-Paul didn't care for this man, Damascus, much. I can't say that I blame him. Even for a young vampire, this Damascus was a pretty imposing character.

"And who is this magnificent creature?" Damascus asked, turning his dark eyes toward me. His eyes fastened on my white locks for a moment. I saw his eyebrows rise in a gesture akin to interest. He reached toward a curly tendril, but Jean-Paul caught his hand before he could touch. Jean-Paul gave Damascus a warning stare that said, 'don't touch her'.

Damascus looked at Jean-Paul quizzically, pulling his hand away from him. "My girlfriend, Beauty. This is her first party." Jean-Paul said, moving a little closer to me. I didn't know if he was doing to make himself feel better or to show ownership.

"Girlfriend?" Damascus let out a hearty laugh. "You? A one-person man? And that one person is a woman? That just doesn't sound correct. Does she know the real Jean-Paul? I think we should introduce her to your darker side."

I didn't like the way the man's eyes were resting on Jean-Paul. I could almost feel the intensity flowing from them. I saw Jean-Paul stand from seat. It took me a moment to realize that he was being "enchanted" by the man. The older vampire had done the same thing to Jean-Paul at the club. I felt a brick drop in my stomach. I didn't think that I was going to like what happened. Why did he always have to be the victim?

Damascus smiled lasciviously at Jean-Paul, running his fingers through the unruly, dark locks. He pulled Jean-Paul in closer, their faces only inches apart, and I thought he might kiss Jean-Paul, but instead the man pulled back with a mocking grin. He tilted Jean-Paul's head to the side, exposing his neckline, and I winced as his tongue teased a spot on Jean-Paul's neck.

Damascus pressed his lips to Jean-Paul's neck, then pulled back. He ran his hands down Jean-Paul's neck, across his chest… down… down… I looked away, but quickly turned back and saw that Damascus' hands found themselves under Jean-Paul's barely there shirt, dark hands roaming on pale skin. My cheeks burned from embarrassment at the sight. I wanted to look away; I felt as if I was infringing on something sacred. However, I couldn't look away as the man's hands trailed down Jean-Paul's abs, his hands teasing the waistband of Jean-Paul's jeans.

Help me, Goddess. I was in some bad porno-horror movie.

"I think your girlfriend is entranced." Damascus said. I think sickened would be a better word. I didn't want to see him prey on Jean-Paul. He made a great show of groping Jean-Paul who's eyes were tightly closed, head still back an angle. "Just one bite." The man said in that same musical voice.

"No…" Jean-Paul said, his voice trailing. "I have to look out for my… my girlfriend tonight."

Jean-Paul's determination was wearing thin, and I saw the man's lips rest on Jean-Paul's neck again. This time I wasn't so sure that he wouldn't bite him. "Please, don't bite him!" I said, jumping from my seat. I was prepared to take the gun out of my purse if I had to defend Jean-Paul. I'd talked him into this, and I was going to make sure he came out of this experience unharmed.

Damascus laughed that same rich laugh and released Jean-Paul. "The mortal doesn't want to see her beloved harm." He said and then turned to me. "If you're going to be a regular member of these parties, my dear, you have to learn that part of the seduction is the violence."

With that final statement, he walked away from us. Jean-Paul sank into the couch, and I sat down beside him. He was actually shaking. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen a vampire shake. The utter look of misery on his face was enough to break my heart. He looked like an overgrown kid trapped in a nightmare. I couldn't help berating myself a little.

I should've thought this through before making him bring me to one of these things. He was trying to get away from this lifestyle, and I forced him to bring me here. What did that say about me? There had to be other ways to get my leads on this case.

Here I was worrying about Jean-Paul when something greater was at stake. Always the humanitarian. "Old friend?" I asked, trying to sound lighthearted, but I was probably failing miserably.

"You could say that." Jean-Paul said in a strained tone, not looking at me.

I grabbed Jean-Paul's hand, rubbing it gently between my hands, trying to soothe him. I could feel his pulse racing through his skin. It was actually kind of funny that vampires had a pulse, considering that so many people believed they didn't. "Do you want to leave?" I asked Jean-Paul, softly. "If you want to leave, we can go."

This would put me back at square one, but I didn't want to make him stay if he didn't really want to be here. How would I feel if someone forced me to stay in a small enclosure? That surely wouldn't settle well with me, and I'm sure this party didn't settle well with him. He shook his head. "We can't leave."

"What do you mean we can't leave?" My throat tightened. Had Jean-Paul lured me into some elaborate trap set by Sakura? I looked around the room. Were they all going to attack me?

"I mean, I've been ordered not to leave." Jean-Paul said sadly. He dropped his eyes.

I touched his face, gently. "I don't understand. Has someone been giving you orders? When you came to see me were you really concerned about Vega? I need to know what's going on." I knew without a shadow of a doubt that someone was Sakura, but I needed to hear it from him.

Jean-Paul looked at me with pleading eyes. "Please, let's not talk about this, now." He was right. This didn't need to be discussed at the moment. We continued to sit there in silence, watching more people arrived.

A pretty, redhead walked through the door, making me think of Jean. My mouth dropped open when I saw who walked through the door after her. I looked at Jean-Paul who stared with concern. The newest person to arrive smiled, no, smirked at me as he let the hostess kiss him on the cheek. He was better at acting casual with these people than I was. I couldn't help standing, abruptly. Some of the patrons in the room looked at me, curiously. Okay, I had to calm down. I was going to blow my cover, but I couldn't help standing there slack jawed as he sauntered over to us.

"Hello," he said with a sly grin. His eyebrows actually shot up as his eyes swept over me appreciatively. That actually made the confidence meter go up a notch. Wait, wait… I was losing focus. This wasn't about the outfit or my ego being stroked; this was about him being here. Period. He held out his hand, and I took it haltingly, shooting death dagger stares at him. He wasn't even affected by glare.

"Hello," I muttered. Mentally, I screamed at him to go back to the mansion. Things were already complicated enough without adding Logan to the mix. How had he found out this was where I was going in the first place?

This was sure to be an interesting night, and I didn't necessarily mean that in a good way. Heavy damn sigh.