Although not as long-winded as Concepcion, Simeon was rude and, at times, crude, both of which Bennett knew before he walked into Max’s castle. Max didn’t usually expound on anything concerning the other covens or their leaders, except he had given Bennett a few highlights about the man who hailed from Upper Saxony. After stating he hadn’t known Simeon for as long as he’d known most of the others, Max said that the once poised, posh, and unassuming man had morphed into something entirely different after becoming a vampire. His humility had dissolved and in its place was conceit. His devotion to his wife had vanished, and now he bedded every woman he could find. And the manners he’d had befitting a royal were replaced by those belonging to a rabble-rousing pub brawler with a vocabulary to match.

A small table flanked by two chairs was off the side in the room, and atop it was a chessboard. Over the past few years, Bennett had asked about the game several times, and each time Max had tutted in response. He decided what she’d learn, and playing games wasn’t on his list, except he had just inadvertently given Bennett the opportunity she’d been waiting for. Curious about the checkerboard surface and the significance of all the intricately carved pieces standing at the ready, even though Bennett opened her book and bowed her head as if to read, her only plans were to eavesdrop. After all, she had learned a lot by just listening as Max taught Edward. Why would this be any different?

Bennett heard the clank of the decanter against the goblets as Max poured the brandy, and a minute later, Max and Simeon sat down at the table. The woman dropped into a chair opposite the desk, casually draping one leather-encased leg over the other as she sipped her drink.

At dinner, several of Simeon’s men had raised their glasses at the insults Simeon hurled at Bennett or let out thunderous laughter before shoveling food into their mouths, but the woman had yet to say a word. There had been a few times when Bennett’s eyes met the woman’s across the long trestle table. Each time the depth of her stare had made Bennett uncomfortable, forcing her to look away, and Bennett’s discomfort had just returned. Was she looking, or wasn’t she? Why did she have to sit there when there were more chairs near the hearth? And why in the hell did she smell so good?