The other woman shook it, her hold firm, her eyes narrowed. “We don’t associate with hunters.”

“And I don’t sleep with vampires.”

That made Callan grin, and it was so open, so honest, Ashwini could almost believe he was the good ol’ farm boy he seemed. “Let’s sit,” he said, ordering wine from the bar.

Ashwini offered Perida a fry as they sat down, knowing vampires could taste and digest a small amount of solid food. “It’s good.”

The vampire took it. “Mmm. Almost makes me wish I was mortal.”

“Almost,” Callan said, his eyes lingering on Ashwini’s scars.

It was, she thought, a very deliberate reminder that he could survive almost anything she did to him, while she’d die a very final death. But that warning was clearly only on the periphery of Callan’s mind—it was Janvier he was interested in.

“You still friends with Antoine?” he asked after taking a sip of his wine, the question as casual as casual could be.

“Oui, I’m friends with everyone.” Janvier pressed a kiss to Ashwini’s cheek. “But this one, she doesn’t like . . . what is her name?”

“Simone.” Ashwini ate several fries in a row instead of illuminating.

Perida picked up the bait. “Why?”

“Have you seen her?” Ashwini snorted. “Thinks the sun shines out of her ass.”

Perida’s suspicious expression turned into one of pure dislike. “She’s a bitch, especially for being so pathetically weak. She makes like she’s got power. Bullshit.”

Ashwini raised an eyebrow. “I thought she was on her third century. Can’t be that much of a lightweight.”

“Age is relative.” Perida shook her head. “Only thing keeping that smug smile on her face is the fact she’s got Antoine on a leash.”

“Antoine likes hard women,” Janvier said, an amused cast to his voice. “Remember that one he was with when we were at court together, Cal?”

“That countess with six dead husbands.” Callan shook his head. “You’d think with age would come wisdom.”