- REMUS -

I'm worried about Lucien. He's disappeared for two days without an explanation besides a short note that he has to take care of something. The last time he did that my world got turned upside down. It wasn't at all his fault, even though he still blames himself for it, but for some reason, I've associated his absence like a jinx, an omen that tells me some shit is about to happen.

In front of us, Dmitri is scanning the place with the scrutiny of a soldier who's just slipped past the enemy's line, and I'm pretty sure Mel is doing the exact same thing behind me. There has also been more tension in the atmosphere around them since Lucien has disappeared, and I wonder if they can sense something through the bond with my seneschal, having his blood in their veins.

Probably not. I correct myself. Mel and Dmitri were born vampires, and their bond with Lucien is one-sided. Even with the ones he'd turned, Lucien never drank from them - he drained their blood some other ways and fed them his so the bond is never complete. The bond is the reason why we don't leave anyone we drink from alive unless it's for a purpose. The one exception for Lucien, of course, is Chris Hailey. He's the only vulnerability Lucien allows himself to have. The fact that they've both disappeared at the same time tells me it has something to do with Chris, which can potentially become a disaster if not handled quickly. I wish they've simply made up and gone on vacation somewhere, but I'm three hundred years too old to believe such a fairytale.

A squeeze on my arm brings me back to reality. I turn to look at Veronica and notice a thin layer of tension on her face as we proceed through security checkpoints. It's the first time in ten years she's been out and about without a single weapon, and my assurance that she doesn't need one so long as I'm around does nothing to make her feel safe. Veronica doesn't trust me enough for that. No. She doesn't allow herself to trust me enough no matter what I tell her or how logical it is to me that she remains alive. Not that I'm any different. I suppose that's the one common thing between the two of us - trust is something we hang on to with our teeth.

"Smile, Veronica," I lean over to whisper so only she can hear. "You're not going to catch anything but a dead fish if you don't at least pretend to relax."

She takes a long breath and exhales before shaking loose the tension in her shoulders and beams a sweet, innocent smile at me. "This good enough for you?"

"No." I stifle a laugh at how much it doesn't suit her. The version of her smile that gets me is the one she gives when she's thinking about staking me in the heart. Veronica is a walking contradiction I can't figure out. Most of the time I can't tell if she wants me or wants to kill me, and that changes every two minutes. I don't even know why I've agreed to this out of all the more important things I have to do. She keeps driving me into making decisions that make no sense whatsoever. "But that will do for everyone else, and hopefully for Wesley. There he is."

It's an outdoor party in a garden behind the new hotel. The dance floor is set up in the middle of it and under the stars, amongst large, strategically planted trees and flower pots. The entire place is lit up minimally to offer an intimate setting by the manmade lake next to it. By the big tree stringed with what seems to be a thousand fiberoptic lights, I spot the young Wesley talking to a group of women, looking like Prince Charming from a fairytale surrounded by court ladies. The man is twenty-five, has a business empire to inherit, equipped with bright blond hair, emerald green eyes, and possessing a considerable height and built to match a Greek God. It's the biggest cliche reality throws at you and a reminder that life really isn't fair, but that's what you get when you're rich enough to have your pick from hundreds of beauty pageants to produce an offspring from - a son that looks like Adonis. You can't really fall too far from the tree if your mother used to be on the page of every magazine, but whether or not he's worth more than his looks and bank accounts I'm about to find out. For our sake, I hope that's where it ends.

"Remember," I tell Veronica as I guide her through the crowd towards our target, "a man who has everything wants something he can't have. Keep your door closed, but let him know he's allowed to knock."

She picks up a glass of champagne on the way and smiles at the waiter. That easy confidence of her is probably the only thing that will help pull this off despite the fact that she feels she doesn't belong here. "Is that what you want then? Something you can't have?" Veronica asks pointedly.

I hold back a frown at that statement. I know what she's trying to do. Veronica never seems to stop finding ways to get me to drink her blood. She's dangerous even without any power, in the way that I can't tell if something she does or says is meant to manipulate me. Being with her requires an extreme amount of focus and self-control, and I'm always on the edge of my seat waiting to see what she will do next. It's exhausting, for lack of a better word. Yet I find myself standing here, feeling as proud and giddy as a boy showing off his date at prom when I shouldn't, and she has no idea how many times in a minute I imagine sinking my fangs into that neck. "Focus, Veronica. I'm not your target tonight."

"Perhaps." Veronica smiles, drains the champagne in her flute and puts the empty glass in my hand before claiming the unfinished glass I'm holding. "The night is long, my lord Remus, and we've only just begun." She catches my gaze and presses her mouth on the rim of the glass where mine has left a mark, making sure I notice it. I swear I can almost taste those lips as she does, and it sends a jolt right down my groin. I wonder if she knows it's going to take a tranquilizer to bring down an elephant to stop me if I ever allow myself to go that far. To be honest, I don't think she does.

"Pick somebody your own size, Veronica," I tell her. "That's not going to happen tonight." Not if I can help it.

She gives me an elaborate curtsy, throws me a look at that says, 'I wouldn't be so sure,' and walks toward the tree like a princess wearing a tiara - no, a queen wearing a crown.

Pausing at a small distance from Wesley, she stands alone in the middle of the crowd, looking like she owns the ground underneath her feet, waiting for him to notice her. The woman is magnificent. She's far from being the prettiest girl I've seen. Her facial structure offers nothing delicate in the way a woman should, and those cheekbones and jawline can probably make you bleed if you're not careful. There's nothing particularly interesting about her brown hair or the color of her eyes. She's also not overly tall, soft, or skinny, and her muscle tone makes her more intimidating than desirable in terms of figure. Her skin isn't smooth as silk or pale, it shows years of being in the sun and all kinds of harsh weather.

Yet one would have to be blind to not single Veronica out from any crowd. There's something about her that demands attention. It's in the way she holds herself, the certainty of her steps, the air of confidence she exudes that almost produces a scent. Some girls feel like they have to fit into a dress, Veronica wears it like it's a part of her skin she's not afraid to show. It gives you the impression that she's naked, and that's enough to make any man's mouth water. Including me.

It's not surprising, really. I have to remind myself from time to time that this is a woman who's lost everything in her life overnight when she was twelve and decides to seek revenge as opposed to curling up in the corner somewhere. This is someone with a clear purpose, a goal so indestructible, so immovable that you can't push over if you ram a truck right into it. You can't bend or break people like Veronica, and it shows. People like that leave a mark wherever they go. I knew a person like that once. She reminds me of -

An excruciating, blood-curdling shiver runs down my spine as I suddenly realize something I haven't noticed until now. There is a logical reason why I'm standing here, why I had given her my blood, why I'm drawn to her enough to risk everything I have and possibly dive into whatever bottomless pit of hell she wants to drag me into.

It's terrifying, enough to shake me out of my composure as I stand there watching her from a distance. I've been playing with more than fire, with something too dangerous, too close to home than I should ever allow myself to even touch. How far would I be willing to go, to dive into this blindingly if I see that in Veronica? I can feel it in my bones why Lucien wants to get rid of her, why he sees her as a threat to be eliminated immediately.

She reminds me of Marcus Acheron.

I squeeze my eyes shut at that thought, at how close I am to diving off that cliff. It's dangerous, too dangerous for me to even be here. I need to get out of all this, separate myself from her, forget she's ever existed, but it's a little too late for that now.

Too late, because I now I find myself standing here curling my hands into a fist when Wesley finally notices her because there is an undeniable rage building in my chest to see him approach her where there shouldn't be. I'm jealous, and I know it. There's already a part of me that sees her as something of mine, something no one else can touch. It probably comes with the bond, possibly because I'm also attracted to her. But all that would be gone within a year, and as long as I keep my distance, wouldn't it?

"This is a surprise," I hear him say as he reaches for her hand and brings it up to his lips, planting a kiss on it. I make a note to kill him for it when all this is over. "Will you now tell me your name, or do I have to look it up from the guest list?"

Veronica smiles discreetly in return, neither appearing shy or overly pleased. "That depends."

He raises a brow. "On?"

She turns a little to the side, a gesture that she's ready to walk away. A well-calculated move to hold a man's interest. "On why you need to know."

He laughs a little, his blue eyes sparkle as he does. The man does know how to grab attention, I give him that. "I should think it's pretty obvious?"

"Is it, Mr. Wesley?" She takes a sip of my champagne and looks straight at him. "Because I can't tell if you think you're chasing a gazelle or you're hunting a cheetah."

Something changes abruptly in his eyes at that, and he pauses for a second as if taken aback by her words. Meanwhile, she continues to hold his gaze unwaveringly, waiting for an answer.

He takes a step closer, his eyes gleaming almost inappropriately, and I find myself adding that to the mental list of reasons why I want him dead. "Perhaps I'm still trying to find out," says Damien. The playful smile fades, turning into a half sneer, "but considering the fact that you're willing to hold a conversation with me now that you know who I am, tell me, who's really doing the hunting here?"

Not a complete idiot, I swear inwardly, far from it. He's on to her, and if she doesn't do something soon -

Veronica laughs before I finish that thought, the clear, melodic sound carries to the people near them, drawing their attention, holding mine. Marcus used to laugh like that when I caught him lying. The image of him pops up in my head, bringing back a thousand memories, layering it on Veronica's. I can almost anticipate what she's about to say, what he would have said. A part of me is desperately reaching out for that likeness, to treasure it, to hang on to it like that painting in Amelia's living room.

"I'm afraid you've caught me redhanded," she says, raising the flute in her hand in a salute. "Fortunately for you, I hunt full-grown lions, never cubs. You're not my target tonight." She reaches over to pick something off his tux just above the edge of his straight-fold pocket square, and I can see him sucks in a breath at the unexpected breach of personal space. "There's lint on your jacket," she says smilingly before turning away. "Have a good evening, Mr. Wesley. The champagne is excellent."

I find myself staring at her in disbelief, in dread, most of all in a boiling rage as she puts on a show of walking back towards me, her full-grown lion - her target tonight she wants Wesley to witness. I should have known why she'd demanded that I accompany her here, should have seen her moves before she even puts it in motion. She's using me to catch her big fish, and in doing so, giving herself a chance to reel me in and wind me around her finger. I was supposed to be a casual friend who'd brought her here as a plus one. Now she's placed me into the role of her lover, which forces me to play the part so she can manipulate me into drinking her blood.

Oh, well played, Veronica. I have to congratulate her mentally for it. Here I am, thinking I'm having fun playing with a mouse, only to realize I'm the one being played. It's terrifying to imagine what she would do if she knows I'm seeing her as a spitting image of Marcus, what would happen if she knows how important he was to me. How ignorant, how arrogant could I have possibly been to ever believe I have her figured out and under control? Of all the human pawn I could have picked to work for me, I just had to pick Veronica-fucking-Wolf. You unimaginable idiot.

And it's working. I can see Damien watching her from behind like some starving predator drooling over a fat baby gazelle too far to reach. More than that, the fact that people are watching her walk away from him makes it a competition he now has to engage and win, being who he is. All the while I'm struggling not to purr to the fact that she's picking me as her King of the Jungle tonight, and knowing her true motive makes no difference whatsoever in deflating my wretched male ego that should no longer exist in anyone who's lived past a century, not to mention three. The triumphant smile she's giving me as she takes one step too far into my personal space and adjusts my bowtie for the world to see confirms it.

"Is he drooling?" She asks, obviously resisting the urge to turn to see.

"Like a rabid dog," I reply, catching Wesley's eyes as she slips her arm around mine. I give him a small nod of acknowledgment and let her guide me towards the dance floor where Damien can see us. It's adding salt to his wound, which will make him desire her more, but it would be a lie to say that I didn't also get some on mine sprinkling it. I can't deny the fact that it's satisfying my ego, even knowing what I know, and as angry as I am.

The band is playing Rachmaninoff's String Quartet No. 1, and even though I can tell she doesn't recognize it, she's humming something along as I slip my arm behind her waist, guiding her into place for dance. She has no idea what she just did, the line she's just crossed. "Tell me," I ask, taking hold of her hand, "how long exactly have you been planning to use me as your third wheel?"

She makes a delectable sound in her throat like she's just swallowed some kind of delicacy. "You don't really think you can get away with telling a woman her dress is pure crap, do you?"

I might have laughed at that statement a few minutes earlier, might still be able to if I hadn't realized the danger of what I've been doing, of having allowed her to get so close to me. Instead, I find myself holding my anger by the tail, trying to appear unaffected and composed so the plan with Wesley doesn't all turn to hell. "I never took you for a girl who cares about such things."

"Making assumptions about a woman is a sure way to make your life a living hell, you should know that by now," she says as I spin her around. Her dance lessons are paying off, I must admit, even though she wouldn't last three steps in the hands of a poor lead.

"I should, shouldn't I?" That's the irony of it, and I'm actually suffering for that now. "I'll also tell you what I should do." I grip harder on her hand and pull her towards me, close enough that we're now dancing cheek to cheek. Behind her, I catch Wesley looking intently at us. The man is probably working on his next move as he does, and I'm pretty sure by now he's had the guest list checked out as to who we are, or whoever we want him to believe we are. Good. Let him watch and drool.

"I'm all up for your games, Veronica, and I don't mind playing with you as long as it stays within boundaries," I tell her, pressing my lips next to her ear. She stiffens all of a sudden and makes an effort to regain the distance between us, to which I respond with a tighter hold around her waist, locking her in position. I need to make this clear. Set limits to how far I'll let her creep into my life, manipulate my behavior.

"The next time you decide to play me or use me," I drag the hand behind her waist up the small of her back, pausing when I find what I'm looking for, "I'm going to hurt you, and hurt you so thoroughly until you learn to respect that line. Understand it, Veronica." I send a small amount of power down the length of her spine - a tiny spark of lightning strong enough to make her stiffen and whimper in pain, but quick enough to last only as long as I need to get the message across. This is who I am. I'm a Keeper of the Gates, the most powerful vampire in the Westwood and possibly of all the purebloods still living. I can crush her with a thought, a lift of my finger, and there's a limit to my patience she needs to observe. "Don't make me."

I can hear her heart beating against her ribs, smell her fear that seeps off her uneven breaths despite her efforts to remain calm. She gets the point, I can tell, and this should be the last time I'm pulled into this, or so I hope it would be. I have to kill her if it isn't, and that's something I don't want to do.

"Go find a quiet spot," I tell Veronica, releasing her from my grip and step back as the music ends. "He's ready to approach you now."

***

A/N: This chapter is a surprise to me. I was going to write a romantic scene for them, but Remus decides to be a prick. LOL It does make more sense to me though. This is a pairing that doesn't really begin with love, and it's going to be a complicated relationship that is wrong on so many levels with all sorts of bombs waiting to explode. I can't wait to write it. :) As always, all kinds of comments welcomed and helps a lot. I've been known to welcome even trolls ^^!