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now as he had been then. The Lord of Nothing. And he continued to behave accordingly. Damien grimaced at the sudden shift in mood. He really shouldn’t drink; it always made him maudlin.
    “Oh, one more thing,” Drake said, prompting Damien to pause and look back at his employer. “I can’t believe I nearly forgot, considering. There was something about a woman.”
    Damien did his best leer. “Oh? Do tell.”
    Drake laughed. “Nothing very promising, I’m afraid, but information you should have. Titus indicated that you may run across one of their women who has taken it upon herself to look for this Sammael personally.”
    “Huh. I didn’t think the Grigori simply took it upon themselves to do anything.”
    “Yeah, well, he didn’t sound happy about it. If you should meet her, he insists that you not help her, and that you let me know where you’ve sighted her. I’ll relay the information.”
    “At which point things will end badly for the Grigori revolutionary,” Damien said. “Got it. Hopefully I’ll be able to tell her apart from a male Grigori. If I can, we’re golden. I don’t work well with others anyway.”
    “Don’t I know it.” Drake waved him off, his attention returning to the piles of work before him, folders full of jobs, dossiers on his own men and women. “Go on. Make nefarious plans. Agonize over wardrobe choices. Whatever you do to get ready. And keep me posted this time, damn it.”
    “Don’t I always?”
    “No.”
    Damien tossed an arrogant wave over one shoulder and let himself out, happy to leave Drake to the tedium of paperwork. The adrenaline had begun to flow again, provoked by the promise of a new adventure. For all that had happened in his life—in both of his lives—he’d never quite lost the simple joy of the hunt. And if there was the potential for feminine distraction? Even better, though he seriously doubted this Grigori interloper would interest him. Still, pure curiosity had him anticipating meeting her… and besting her.
    Yes, Damien thought with a predatory smile, it was high time he got back to work.

chapter THREE
    S HE HAD BEEN in the world a month.
    It was hard to believe sometimes, Ariane thought as she scanned the dimly lit club, searching for a familiar face and sipping at her chocolate martini. There were nights when this all still seemed like a dream. And then there were other nights, like tonight, when it was her old life that was hard to believe in. Out here, everything was busy, bright, vibrant… alive . It made the Grigori compound seem dead and airless by comparison.
    Pity, then, that this world she was so fascinated by continued to be so hard for her to live in. But she would keep trying. And at some point, hopefully soon, she would be able to stop second-guessing her every step, action, word. She would belong here. Because even if she found Sam, Ariane already knew she was never going back.
    Conversation ebbed and flowed around her, and thankfully no one seemed very interested in the small, dark-haired woman perched on a stool at the bar. She reachedup to surreptitiously adjust her wig, which was itchy and sweaty and completely uncomfortable. It was also necessary. Ariane had a fleeting and wonderful vision of taking it off later and giving her poor head a good scratch. She’d known her coloring and looks were unusual. What she hadn’t realized was that in the human world, her idea of “unusual” was actually “unheard of.” She didn’t blend in. Not even among vampires, who she’d quickly realized didn’t exactly welcome her presence. Was it because her bloodline kept so much to themselves? Were they considered snobs? Ariane had no idea, and no one else seemed inclined to tell her. They were too busy giving her a wide berth. It was just another reason to be appalled at how isolated she’d been. And after a month away from home, she had found plenty of reasons. She wanted to drink in everything, experience everything. But so far, most