Stefan leaned forward. “I want from you what I want from all members of the Duskoff—your blood, your sweat, and maybe even your life. In return for your loyalty and your commitment, you will receive riches and luxuries like you’ve never imagined.” He paused a beat. “And for you, Sarafina, power. You are one of the most powerful fire witches I’ve encountered. I would want you close to me. You would be high up in the organizational structure.” He raised an eyebrow. “The fact I want you so much is extra incentive that I will keep you safe from Bai. You should feel comforted.”

Sarafina swallowed a burst of laughter. Yes, having Stefan Faucheux covet her for his organization of warlocks was very comforting.

The limo driver opened her door. She glanced at the doors of the hotel, then turned back to Stefan. “Take me with you.”

Stefan gave his head a shake. “No, my petal. It’s too soon. You were living with the enemy for weeks. You’ve been contaminated. As much as I would like to trust you, I cannot let you too close to my plans now; they mean too much to me. There is a room reserved for you. Check in, wander down to the hotel shops, and buy some clothes. The clothing selection is surprisingly superb here.” He produced a wad of cash and handed it to her. “Consider it my treat. We’ll talk more when I return.”

She allowed the driver to help her out of the limo and watched as it pulled away from the curb.

“Damn it,” she said aloud as one of the doormen approached her. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

“Can I help you, miss?” the doorman inquired.

Just then a motorcycle pulled up outside the hotel. It wasn’t a Harley like Theo’s. It was a red crotch rocket. The kind of bike that would make Theo sneer. But it looked fast. Fast was good.

How different could a crotch rocket be from a Harley? Okay, probably a lot different. Anyway, she’d only driven Theo’s Harley for a short time. That hardly made her an expert at maneuvering a motorcycle.

But this was an emergency.

“No,” she answered the doorman, her eyes all for the bike, “but he might be able to.” She walked with purpose to the cycle’s owner, who’d just dismounted. He took her in with one appraising, appreciative sweep of his eyes. It was these times in her life she was glad men seemed to find her attractive.

The man was in his midthirties, probably monied. Good-looking in an ordinary way. Sandy blond hair and brown eyes.