Into the Spotlight by Heather Long

living woman lay like a doll, exquisitely formed in pale imitation of the desirable creature that’d ravished his soul.

Chapter Eight
    “Pandora, you’ve been requested. Again.”
    Jeannie glanced up to meet Heidi’s gaze in the mirror. The blank expression betrayed no emotions. Even her eyes were reserved. Minion danced a jig on Heidi’s shoulder, but the woman paid no attention to the imp’s antics.
    “Is it him?” A fist closed around her heart, squeezing.
    “I would imagine. Four nights in a row, I would say you made quite the impression. Do you wish me to decline for you?”
    She hesitated, looking away from the painful evenness of Heidi’s expression. The manager wouldn’t hesitate to dismiss Malcolm if Jeannie asked. The girls were all Heidi concerned herself with, their care and keeping. The vampire would be hard pressed to get past her Keeper should she put her mind to stopping him.
    But the thought of not seeing Malcolm again—that thought curdled inside her stomach, leaving a dry ache where emotion heaved.
    “No. Don’t.” Jeannie exhaled a hard, long breath. “I’ll see him. Will you tell Stan?”
    “Of course.” Heidi turned as though to go but then paused. She studied Jeannie’s expression in the mirror. Jeannie fought to maintain a semblance of calm. In more than fifty years, she’d only seen the rare patron when the request came. Tonight, she was doing the unthinkable.
    She was seeing one for the fourth time.
    “Pandora.” Heidi’s voice was soft, softer than a whisper and Jeannie frowned. Heidi’s lips hadn’t moved in the mirror. Be careful…
    Heidi vanished between one eye blink and the next. Jeannie twisted in the chair, but the manager was nowhere to be seen. Her hands shook as she looked back to the mirror and began stripping off the stage makeup.
    The quaking in her muscles made walking up the stairs ten minutes later a shaky proposition. Stan walked behind her, saying nothing when she paused. Hands slick with sweat fought for purchase on the metal railing.
    Does Malcolm hate me?
    Is he repulsed?
    Will he demand an explanation?
    She’d woken at sundown, in her rooms below the pit. Cognition, awareness and movement flooded back all at once. Her body still ached from having been so well used. The taste of him clung to her lips. She need only close her eyes to imagine the feel of him moving against her, over her, inside her.
    Jeannie’s stomach fluttered. But he had to have seen the transformation. Stan fetched her home. She knew without asking what course of events took place. What she didn’t know—no, what she dreaded—was Malcolm’s reaction. Would he see her as the woman he’d desired or an abomination?
    At the top of the stairs, Jeannie paused again. Her heart wobbled. “I can’t do this,” she whispered.
    “Yes, you can.” Stan’s words floated around her like an unexpected life raft from the heavens. Jeannie twisted to look at him. His silent gaze regarded her with kindness. “He wasn’t angry. Terrified, upset, on the verge of violence, but he was not angry. Not with you.”
    Jeannie’s words choked on the lump road blocking her throat. “Was he upset with you?”
    “Very.”
    Fear for herself evaporated under an assault of terror for Malcolm. “The Overseers…”
    “Are not involved.” Stan smiled. “His concern for you was genuine. He just didn’t want to give up custody of your body. I imagine he’ll have many questions for you, but I would not be surprised if the first one isn’t ‘are you all right?’”
    Trepidation tangoed with anticipation, soothing and bruising her heart. “Thank you, Stan.”
    “Of course, Miss Jeannie.” The kindness erased, leaving only the blank, patient stare Stan wore when he worked. Jeannie wiped her hands against the soft chiffon of her red drape. She’d chosen the Greek dress for both the deep scarlet color and the unique folds that allowed her to feel both sexy and empowered at the same time.
    Where her