It was a powerful dream Flavia was dangling before her. Human slaves were sometimes freed after their masters had made it known in their wills. Or if they provided valuable service, they could buy their way out. For shifter slaves, though? One might as well fly to the moon. For obvious reasons, vampires never forgot that shifters were capable of tearing their heads off, if so provoked.

Flavia went on, her voice low and persuasive. "You may be an animal, but even you would like a husband. Perhaps have children and work some land. There is always need for farmers in Italia."

And Flavia would make damn sure that Lia's future children would be beholden to her. Or maybe she'd have Lia killed after Lia did what Flavia wanted.

"If I have found favor in your eyes, I am pleased," Lia murmured, "but I am content with my place, domina. I do not reach for what cannot be possible."

"Oh, it can be done."

Now was the time to appear warily hopeful. "My lady? Whatever could you mean? I... I could be free?"

Flavia Varrone seated herself before the polished silver that served as her mirror. Some old women said vampires couldn't see their reflections, but Flavia's image appeared in the mirror, lovely and cold. She must have fed recently because there was a flush of pink in her porcelain skin.

"My nephew is returned from the war a great hero," she said, her voice musical and light, although Lia had never heard her sing before. "At the banquet tonight, there will be a crush of the likes Rome has not seen, virgins and widows angling after him. Every woman desires Gaius Flavius Varro Magnus as a husband. Or a lover. Preferably both. He is his father's heir, a fact everyone in Rome most certainly knows."

Her remarkable voice vibrated. It was so unlike her that Lia's eyes flicked up. Flavia's mouth twisted in a small moue, and just for an instant, her skin fissured into a map of lines. A glitter of teeth, the hint of canines indenting her lips. Her hands tightened against the table before she picked up various jars of cosmetics.

Lia's mind raced. Her senses were dulled by her restraints, but she'd smelled pure frustration rolling off the vampire noblewoman. What could have made Flavia so angry? The young Varro was her nephew...

But he isn't her son.

That was it! A vampire Flavia might be, but she was still a woman. Roman law prohibited her from inheriting any share of the Flavian wealth. Not even her children could inherit. She'd married out of the family, a Caecilian, so the law considered her children as Caecilians.

Lia almost snorted. The couch that Flavia had just gotten up from was draped in cloths of Tyrian purple. That in itself was worth several kings' ransom. The pearls dripping from Flavia's neck and ears were the size of Lia's knuckles.

And the young Varro is wealthier still...

Despite herself, Lia was genuinely fascinated. If she could only use Flavia's discontent to her advantage...

"The lady Caecilia Ravilla is beautiful," Lia ventured, referring to Flavia's daughter. "She is his first cousin, is she not?"

Flavia shot her a sharp glance, and for a moment Lia wondered if the irony in her too-guileless voice had been obvious.

"I have plans for her," Flavia said at last. "My nephew cannot turn me down, not his one and only aunt, and so I shall present you as a personal gift. Ice water may run in his veins, but he is a man for all that."

Oh no, he wasn't a man. The look in his gray eyes had been one devoid of emotion. How could he be the same person so beloved by Rome?

"Are you afraid?" Flavia asked. She seemed more pleased, as if Lia's silence was the kind of reaction she was expecting. "You needn't be, girl. I'll make it clear you aren't to be permanently disfigured or killed. He will honor my wishes."

"Domina..." Lia whispered. "I am... I am hardly fit."

"Not now, no, but you will be."

Smiling, Flavia turned back to her table. She picked up a wooden dagger hiding behind the jars of cosmetics and pricked her thumb.

Lia's eyes widened. This she hadn't expected at all! She knew she should guard her reaction, but her mouth dropped open anyway as Flavia smeared her bloody thumbprint across Lia's left silver armband.

The bond loosened.

She fell to the floor screaming. Someone was pounding spikes into her skull. She writhed and thrashed. Then the pain vanished. Just like that.

Panting, Lia drew air into her lungs. The circlet hadn't come off, true, but now she could breathe. Oh Goddess! Someone was howling in triumph - that wolf raging inside her heart. Just three more restraints to go...

A beautiful face swam before her drugged eyes. "You see," Flavia Varrone murmured, her cold fingers weaving through Lia's sunlight-streaked hair, "that is just the merest taste of the legal emancipation I offer. Think of it, little animal. Running free under that moon you worship. Mating only with the man you want, not the men I choose for you. No more bleeding your wrists for the leeches, or so you call us. All of that can be yours." Now her fingers tightened painfully. "I keep my promises... and so should you."