Cinn didn’t believe that look. She took a deep breath and just nodded. Then she tried to calm herself by focusing on the normal. She glanced around the room. Normal, normal, normal, where the hell was normal? Not in this room.

Every surface, and every object resting or attached to said surface, was dedicated to the sensual. Erotic paintings hung on walls of deep red. Sexy sculptures rested on furniture with carved scenes of sexual acts. The light from a bunch of candles cast shadows that danced along the walls and the scents filling the room from the candles made her want to … want to … tackle Dacian, take him to the floor, and commit unspeakable acts of wanton abandon on his yummy body.

Horrified, she looked at Sparkle. “This is the new you?”

Sparkle looked sad. “The old me. The new me has ordered a bunch of white paint and Shaker furniture along with some Norman Rockwell prints. They haven’t gotten here yet.”

“If I have anything to say about it, they never will.“ Ganymede wasn’t as wrapped up in his movie as everyone thought.

“Have you said everything that needed saying?” Dacian sounded impatient.

“Not exactly.” For the first time, Sparkle seemed a little nervous. “Bain had a vision. He gets flashes of the future once in a while. Usually there’s not too much detail.”

Dacian’s gaze sharpened. “This Bain, he was the guy with Ganymede, the one who’ll be guarding Cinn.”

“A demon.” Cinn felt good about being on the telling end of something for a change.

Sparkle nodded. “He saw you chained to a post, Dacian. Oh, he didn’t know who you were, because he hadn’t met you yet, but I recognized your description.” She hesitated.

“Go on.” Dacian’s expression darkened.

“Another vampire was attacking you. Bain didn’t see any way you could survive.” She looked away. “He didn’t see anything to give a hint of where you were, and he didn’t see the outcome.”

“In other words, he didn’t see me die.”

“No.” Sparkle sighed and returned her gaze to him. “The other vampire was ordinary looking—average height, slim, short dark hair, no beard or mustache. Recognize him?”

“It’s not Stephan. He has long blond hair and a mustache. How accurate are this guy’s visions?” Dacian’s voice was level and calm, but Cinn could sense his intensity, his anger building. So far he hadn’t shown fang, but she figured if he didn’t put a lid on his feelings fast, he could boil over and scald all of them.

“Umm, pretty good.”

“How good?”

“One hundred percent so far.” Sparkle hurried to smooth some of the sharp edges from that average. “But no one ever stays at one hundred percent. I mean, this could be the one he blows. And the future is tricky. We have free will, so we can change the future.”