The scene bothered me, and it wasn't because I had met the were or because he was obviously terrified. Better that he learn his lesson now and avoid trying the Senate's patience in future; they weren't known for giving third chances. I finally decided that my brain was objecting to the sight of fangs extending from Tomas' lips, and to seeing him swallow the satyr's blood like it was his favorite vintage. It seemed I was still having trouble putting «Tomas» and «vampire» in the same category.

Despite my unease, I didn't look away. It was considered a sign of weakness to show emotion when witnessing a punishment, and rude to ignore it since the whole point of having it in public is for it to be seen. I did, however, refocus my attention on Mircea. Watching him enjoy his meal bothered me less than watching Tomas, and he was in my line of sight anyway.

"I thought you didn't like were blood," I said, trying for what passed for normal conversation at the courts. Mircea had been present when Tony had the alpha executed, but had declined the honor of draining him. "You told me once that they're bitter."

"It is an acquired taste," Mircea responded, letting the black were draped over his knees fall to the floor. "But I cannot be choosy. I will need my strength tonight."

I poured more tea and eyed Pritkin's untouched plate lustfully. "Are you going to eat that?" I couldn't help it; I was starving for some reason, probably thanks to Billy Joe. The mage ignored me, staring at the unconscious were in horror. Mircea slid the mage's plate across to me and I dug in gratefully.

"Did Antonio have any more trouble with that pack, after their leader was killed?" he asked, as if he knew what I'd been thinking.

I poured syrup over the mage's untouched hotcakes and slathered on some butter. "I don't think so. At least, I never heard of any more problems. Tony didn't always tell me everything, though."

Mircea gave me a sardonic look. "That makes two of us, dulceaţă. Bogatia strica pe om."

"You know I don't understand Romanian, Mircea."

"Prosperity, like want, ruins many."

I shook my head. No way would Tony risk angering the Senate and the Circle for profit alone. "I'm thinking it's more power Tony wants. He has money."

"You are wise beyond your years. Do your ghosts teach you such things?"

I almost blew hot tea all over Tomas. "Ha! Not likely." The only things Billy had ever taught me were some illegal card tricks and a few dirty limericks.

"Do you hear yourself?" Pritkin was looking at me with revulsion. "That thing just committed murder and you didn't even blink! Are you enslaving the spirits of the dead, as you did your ghost servant and the dark witches? Is that why you sit there and say nothing?"

I almost decided it wasn't worth the trouble. But I was feeling much better since polishing off the pancakes, and Pritkin really needed a reality check. "First of all, the were isn't dead; he only passed out. Second, I don't 'enslave' spirits; as far as I know, that isn't even possible. And third, weres don't leave ghosts. Neither do vamps. I don't know why, but they don't."

"Because their souls have already gone to Hell?" he asked, with apparent unconcern for the looks Mircea and Rafe sent him. The others didn't react; Tomas because he was eating, and Louis-César because he was apparently suffering from a severe migraine.

"When I saw how you acted in the Senate, I wondered if you have a death wish. I'm beginning to think you really do."

"Then you admit they would as soon kill me as not."

I glanced at Mircea, who was looking like he was contemplating having dessert. "Sooner, at the rate you're going." I figured I'd better explain before the mage had a conniption. "This guy was part of a group that tried to kill us a few hours ago. But the vamps aren't going to kill him, at least not this time. A warning is given for the first offense, along with an object lesson to make it memorable. If the lesson is impressive enough, most people don't have to be told twice."

Pritkin looked disgusted. "So they're not monsters and murderous beasts, only misunderstood; is that it?"

Mircea was trying not to laugh. He wasn't trying very hard. I felt my own lips quirk as I caught his eye. "Are you a murderous beast, Mircea?"

"Of a certainty, dulceaţă," he replied cheerfully.

Mircea winked at me before trading his cowed victim for another that had just been brought in. This one was human, part of Tony's daytime muscle, I assumed. He must have been one of those hired for brawn instead of brains, because his hazel eyes were bright with outrage he didn't bother to hide. Apparently he'd already mouthed off to someone, since in addition to the chains he wore on his ankles and wrists, he had a gag stuffed in his mouth. I glanced at Pritkin and saw his jaw tighten. If he objected to weres being given the usual punishment for defiance, what was he going to think about a human undergoing it?

Maybe because the young man looked so rebellious, Mircea passed over the neck, the usual feeding point, with nothing more than a contemplative glance. The man was physically close to perfect, with tousled copper curls, classic features and well-defined muscles. But there was a small scar just below his left nipple that drew Mircea's attention. The vampire's long, white fingers ran across the slight blemish as if he was memorizing it—or, knowing Mircea, thinking of adding a matching one on the other side. The breast is another popular feeding point, and the man stiffened as if he knew that. I saw sweat bloom on his upper lip and he swallowed nervously. The nub hidden in the man's thick ginger body hair drew up temptingly under Mircea's touch, and his nerve broke. He jerked away, eyes wide, but got all of about a foot before a nod from Mircea caused Rafe to return him to the sofa.

Their captive tensed from the feel of Rafe's body pressed up behind him, one arm circling his waist like a vise. He seemed more worried about him than about the way Mircea was eyeing his pulse points as if trying to decide between favorite items on a menu. The man looked up and met my eyes and his own widened in surprise, as if that was the first time he'd noticed that the room held other people. The flush that already colored his cheeks quickly ran halfway down his chest. It made me wonder how long he'd been with Tony's outfit; most of them hadn't blushed even when they were alive. But he forgot about me when Mircea's deceptively slender hands suddenly forced him to his knees. He hadn't realized that struggling only made it more fun for the vamps, and the muscles of his calves and upper legs bulged as he resisted. I saw the direction of Mircea's gaze and knew what was coming.

The man was dragged onto the sofa and his knees pried apart. He seemed more concerned about being exposed in front of a group of strangers than about his imminent danger, but when a set of perfect, gleaming fangs appeared on Mircea's handsome face, he forgot to be embarrassed. He tried to roll off the couch, but his shackled ankles and arms allowed him little purchase. Mircea hauled him back to his knees to get a better angle but did not take him immediately. He drew it out, letting the man's panic rise as he discovered exactly how strong a vampire can be. He bucked uselessly against Mircea's hold, small whimpers escaping from behind the gag. Even I could see the femoral artery, bulging noticeably in his straining thigh.

When his struggles finally lessened, either because of fatigue or because nothing else had happened, Mircea struck, sinking those fangs into the silky skin at the junction of the man's hip. A muffled scream came from behind the gag when the artery was pierced, and his eyes bulged when Mircea's lips sealed over the bite and he began to suck. The struggles renewed, but Rafe moved up to ensure that his master could feed without having to bother to restrain his meal.