Like the rest of the men, excepting Adam’s pilot and copilot, Bonarata wore a suit. The biggest difference between his suit and Adam’s was that Bonarata’s suit only emphasized the vampire’s brutally stamped features. It wasn’t that the suit looked wrong; it was that it looked like it was designed to showcase a warrior, a dangerous man.

Adam’s suit, which made him look very civilized, was a disguise. Adam preferred it that way.

The Master Vampire gave Adam a half bow. “I am Bonarata. I have met you through the eyes of my servant, but you have not met me.”

Adam introduced his people gravely, including Marsilia and Stefan. Both of whom Bonarata greeted mutely with that quick, polite nod, as if they were strangers. For their own protection, Adam stuck his pilot and copilot in the middle of the introductions, to make it absolutely clear that Adam felt they fell into the category of his people. He did not introduce them by name—as an added protection for them. Including them in the middle also mixed up the whole color theme, which he appreciated.

All the while, he and Bonarata sized each other up.

“Your wife is no longer in my care,” Bonarata said, apparently deciding to be straightforwardly honest.

Adam waited politely. On the outside, he was sure his face was polite anyway.

“She misunderstood my intentions, I think,” said the vampire, with a small smile on his face. “Otherwise, she would not have run from here. I did not get the chance to let her know you were coming.”

Or maybe not so honest.

“Did she?” Adam asked. “So she misunderstood that you hit her car with a semi, almost killed her, then compounded the incident by kidnapping her?”

“Adam,” Marsilia said, her grip on his arm tightening to painful levels.

When she spoke, there was an instant during which something passed across the Lord of Night’s face. Marsilia saw it, Adam felt her fingers clench, but he couldn’t see her face.

“We know that Mercy isn’t here,” he told Bonarata, and by the vampire’s careful lack of expression, Adam knew that Bonarata had thought to surprise them. He didn’t want Bonarata to have an opening to ask how they knew Mercy was gone. Not while Mercy was still out on her own. So he continued briskly, “Recovering my wife is no longer our purpose here. I think we should talk about why you decided to take her in the first place.”

“I had hoped to talk business after last meal,” said Bonarata.

“Had you,” said Adam neutrally. Not a question, just an acknowledgment of Bonarata’s plans.

It was a good thing that Larry had talked sense before they’d come down to eat, because Adam’s temper flared hotly, and he knew that his eyes were wolf-yellow.

He took a deep breath.

“It is something civilized people would do,” Bonarata said mildly.

“Which neither of you is,” Marsilia said archly.

Bonarata looked at her sharply, his eyes lingering on the way her hand stayed on Adam’s shoulder.