Be Still My Vampire Heart

CHAPTER 3

The devil take it. He'd screwed up royally.

Angus watched Emma cross the stone bridge, her stride quick and determined. Instead of convincing her to retire, he'd made her even more determined to use her bloody stakes. Roman and Jean-Luc were right. He was too hot-headed. But damn it all, it pissed him off that such a lovely young lass would place herself in so much danger. He suspected she was avenging more than the innocent mortals killed recently in Central Park. She was avenging her mother. That would explain her passion and determination, but even so, her behavior was suicidal. It was an idiotic, reckless thing to do, and yet there was nothing stupid or careless about Emma Wallace.

She was clever and quick. She possessed enough psychic power to detect his presence, though he'd managed to shield his thoughts and location from her. He'd never had to do that with a mortal before, which only gave further proof of how special she was. He had hoped reasoning with her would be enough, but she was so determined, it was going to be difficult to persuade her. He might have to pin her down just to get her to listen.

The thought of her lying beneath him caused him to swell. Bugger. He glanced down at his sporran, which was now hanging askew. He couldn't go to Roman's townhouse with an erection. They'd tease him about it for the next century.

He watched her jogging up the steps to Fifth Avenue. He moved quietly to the street, far enough away that he could still see her with his superior vision. She was hailing a cab, a worried look marring her pretty face. Good. It was about time she realized she was playing with fire.

He had to do something. If the Malcontents caught her in the act, they would kill her without a second of remorse. They considered mortals nothing more than a food source, a herd of cattle. Vampires were naturally faster and stronger than any mortal could be. The lass was doomed if he didn't stop her.

He watched her slip into the backseat of a taxi with a graceful, controlled movement. So lovely. And amazing. Three kills last summer and one more this spring. She had to be one fierce little fighter. If only he could direct that passion elsewhere…

His swollen groin throbbed. Bugger. Over five hundred years old, and here he was, reacting like a randy youth. He didn't know whether to be annoyed or relieved. It had been so long since he'd felt arousal, he'd suspected he was more dead than alive—a theory that had made sense given his circumstance.

With a sigh, he headed toward Roman's townhouse on the Upper East Side. Teleporting would be faster than walking, but he wanted time to think. And time for the bulge under his kilt to settle down.

Why didn't he react this way among his own kind? There were plenty of available Vamp women, including those in his own harem. They were pretty enough, but they were also demanding and vain in a whiny, helpless way. Emma was totally different. Clever, independent, and bold. She had all the qualities he admired most in men. She was even a warrior.

With a small jab of surprise, Angus realized she was just like him. Well, no. She was a great deal younger. And a great deal more alive. And she also had a very lovely female body.

But her pull was more than a physical attraction. She was a warrior like him, battling evil in the wee hours of the night. She shared his need to protect the innocent. Beneath their obvious differences, they were kindred spirits. If he could make her see that, she could be an ally instead of an enemy.

He turned onto Roman's street and approached the townhouse. The windows were dark now that Roman's harem was gone and he was living in White Plains with his mortal wife. Now the only inhabitants were Connor and two Vamp security guards. Ian would be guarding the townhouse, while Dougal watched over Romatech.

Angus always stayed at Roman's townhouse when he was in New York. The bedrooms were equipped with aluminum shutters to keep the occupants safe during the day. And the daytime guards were completely trustworthy. They worked for MacKay Security and Investigation.

No doubt, Emma Wallace would run a check on his company as soon as she read his business card. She'd probably figure out he was undead. That was all right. He didn't want any secrets between them. He wanted her to learn to trust him.

He planned to investigate her, too. If he knew all about Emma Wallace, he could figure out the best way to win her over. Psychological warfare. Not as straightforward as his usual methods, but the target in this case was unusual. He couldn't simply bash her on the head with a claymore. He'd have to be more subtle. More… seductive.

He smiled to himself. Let the battle begin.

He glanced around as he climbed the steps to the townhouse. The street was empty and quiet. This was the perfect opportunity to test the alarm system he'd installed a few months ago. Ever since Roman had teleported straight into the lair of the Russian coven, Angus had worried that the Russians would attempt a similar maneuver.

He checked once more that the street was empty, then teleported into the dark foyer. As soon as his body materialized, an alarm went off—an alarm pitched at a high frequency so only dogs and vampires could detect it.

Immediately the kitchen door swung open, and a figure zoomed toward him with vampire speed. The blur stopped, revealing Ian, his kilt swirling about his knees and his dagger pointed at Angus's throat.

"Och, 'tis you." Ian slid his dagger back into the sheath beneath his hose. "I nearly skewered you."

Angus patted the youthful-looking vampire on the back. "Ye're as quick as ever, lad.

'Tis good to see ye again." He strolled over to the control panel by the door to turn the alarm off. "If ye'd been here by the monitor, ye'd have seen me come up the steps, and ye wouldna have been caught by surprise."

Ian hung his head, looking properly embarrassed for not being at his post. "I was in the kitchen. We have company."

"Who?" Angus strode past the grand staircase to the kitchen, where a sliver of light could be seen beneath the door. He gave the swinging door a push and caught a glimpse of Gregori, sitting at the kitchen table, drinking his bottle of Blissky.

Angus marched into the kitchen. "Why are ye here, interfering with Ian's duties? Ye should still be at Romatech."

Gregori made a face. "Aren't you the friendly one? Roman's expecting me to give him a report on the slayer, but you and Connor never came back. Besides I'm doing you a favor, returning your bottle to you."

Angus grabbed the bottle and held it up to the light. "The bloody thing's half empty."

Gregori grinned. "I get it. The Blissky is bloody. Right. You're trying to be funny." His grin faded as Angus continued to glower at him. "Okay, so I drank a little. But I prefer to think of it as halffull."

Angus set the bottle down as Ian strode into the room.

Gregori motioned to him. "He had some, too."

Angus arched an eyebrow at Ian.

"Just a wee drop," Ian insisted. "I know I'm on duty."

"Ye're damned right." Angus bit his lip to keep from smiling. Roman's new Fusion drink was going to be very popular. "Can ye call Connor and let him know I'm here?" He motioned with his head for Ian to leave the room.

"Sure." Ian grabbed a cell phone off the kitchen counter and went back into the foyer.

"So, big guy, are you ready to report?" Gregori slouched back in his chair. "Did you find the slayer? Was it one of the hot babes?" He waggled his brows.

Angus glared at the young Vamp. "I might be willing to forgive ye for drinking my Blissky, if ye'll tell me what's wrong with the bairn."

"The what? Sprechen sie English, dude."

"The bairn, the wee babe. I want to know what's wrong."

"Oh." Gregori's face turned serious as he leaned forward onto his elbows. "Well, that's kinda personal."

"So are yer balls, laddie, but if ye're wanting to keep them close and personal, ye'll tell me what's going on."

"Sheesh!" Gregori gave him an incredulous look. "Lay off the steroids, man."

"I doona need drugs. I'm naturally a mean bastard."

"Yeah, I noticed." Gregori narrowed his eyes. "You didn't hurt the hot babe, did you?"

Angus smiled. He was beginning to see why Roman liked this young Vamp. "I'll tell ye what. Ye tell me about the bairn, and I'll tell you about the hot babe."

Gregori nodded slowly. "Deal." He motioned to the chair across from him.

Angus laid his claymore across the center of the table, then sat. "Is the bairn in danger?"

"We don't know. The Vamp doctors say he's healthy."

"'Tis a boy?"

Gregori smiled. "You should have seen Roman's face when he told me. He was so proud."

"Then what is the problem? And doona lie, lad. I can always tell, and you wouldna want to see me angry."

Gregori rolled his eyes. "Oh, I'm so scared."

Angus stifled a grin. He folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes.

Gregori sighed. "Okay. Shanna mentioned a few months ago that the baby seemed to be sleeping all day and turning somersaults all night. Really freaked Roman out."

Angus rested his elbows on the table in front of his sword. "Roman fears the bairn is a night creature? That's why they're seeing a Vamp doctor? But dinna Roman use live human sperm?"

"Yep. But he erased the donor's DNA and inserted his own."

"So he would be the father. I doona see the problem." Angus glanced to the side when the kitchen door swung open. Connor strode inside, followed by Ian.

"I hope ye had better luck than I." Connor retrieved a bottle of synthetic blood from the fridge and popped it into the microwave. "I scoured the northern half of Central Park all night and never saw anything but a few couples making love."

"Damn!" Gregori thumped the table with his fist. "I knew I should have gone with you."

The room grew quiet except for the whir of the microwave. The three Scotsmen regarded Gregori silently until he blushed.

He shifted uneasily in his chair. "I guess I need a girlfriend."

"Don't we all," Ian muttered.

The microwave beeped, and Connor removed his bottle of blood. "Before we start moaning over loves lost, I want to know about the slayer. Did ye find her, Angus?"

"Her?" Ian repeated.

"Aye, I found her." Angus motioned toward Gregori. "But first, this one is telling me about Roman's bairn."

Gregori gave Connor a sheepish look. "He wouldn't talk about the slayer until I spilled the beans."

Connor grimaced, then took a long swig from his bottle. "Roman wanted to keep it quiet."

Angus gritted his teeth. "And ye doona think I can keep a secret? I ken more secrets than ye can imagine, Connor. And do I need to remind ye that ye work for me?"

"Aye, that I do, but my job is to provide Roman with security, and that's exactly what I'm doing."

"Tell me the problem," Angus insisted.

With a sigh, Connor leaned against the kitchen counter. "After the bairn was conceived, Roman was conducting some tests to see if he could transform himself back into a mortal."

Angus nodded. "The procedure he did on Darcy Newhart. What of it?"

"Roman learned the procedure only works if he has a sample of the Vamp's original mortal DNA," Connor continued. "While studying our DNA, Roman discovered something… odd. By then, Shanna was already pregnant from the sperm with Roman's DNA."

"What are ye saying?" Angus demanded.

Connor took another long drink. "Our DNA has changed. A verra slight mutation, but still, 'tis no' the same as when we were mortal."

Angus swallowed hard. "Then Roman's baby… "

"Could be like us," Connor finished. "And we're no longer quite human."

A chill skittered down Angus's spine. No longer human? No wonder Roman was nervous. What would the bairn be like? No longer human. Bugger.

"Are ye all right?" Connor asked softly.

"Aye." Except that Gregori was drumming his fingers on the table, and Angus found the noise very annoying. No longer human. How could he ever convince Emma he was good when he wasn't even human? He balled his fists with a sudden urge to clobber someone.

Gregori would do nicely. "Does Shanna know?"

"Aye," Connor replied. "But she insists she doesna care, that she loves Roman and will love the bairn, no matter what."

"She's a rare woman." Angus scowled at Gregori to get him to stop making noise.

It worked. Gregori leaned forward. "Can you believe it? We're all a bunch of mutants! Just like the Ninja Turtles."

Angus blinked. "We—we're like…turtles?"

Gregori burst into laughter.

Ian shook his head, grinning.

Connor snorted. "Nay. We have vampire DNA. No turtles."

"Snap!" Gregori rocked back in his chair, laughing. "I had you worried, huh?"

Angus narrowed his eyes. "Connor, if ye doona kill this fledgling, I will. The lad is begging for it."

Ian covered his mouth to hide a grin. Connor simply crossed his arms and looked bored. Gregori wiped his eyes. "You can't kill me. I'm the vice president of marketing at Romatech."

Angus lifted a brow. "Ye claim to serve a purpose?"

"Damn straight. I sell Roman's Fusion Cuisine. You know those commercials on the Digital Vampire Network?" Gregori smiled proudly. "I make those."

Angus slipped hissgian dubh from its sheath beneath his hose and studied the sharp, lethal knife. "I doona watch the telly much. I'm too busy killing."

Gregori's smile withered. "Sheesh, bro. Get a hobby. Buy yourself a new skirt. Find some joy in life."

Angus smiled grimly. "I find joy in my work, and the bloodier the better." He glanced at Connor. "Do ye want the pleasure, or shall I?"

Connor's mouth twitched.

Gregori jumped to his feet. "You can't hurt me. Roman needs me to sell his stuff."

"And if ye stopped making yer commercials, would Vamps stop drinking Roman's stuff and turn to the competitor?" Angus asked.

With a frown, Gregori loosened his tie. "There is no competition. Roman is the sole producer of synthetic blood."

"Ah." Angus slid a finger down the single-edged blade of hissgian dubh. "Ye see, I've watched enough telly to know what the proper term is for the likes of you. Ye're what we call an expendable crew member."

Gregori's eyes widened. "You're not hurting me. Roman likes me."

Angus tilted his head. "Are ye sure about that, laddie?"

Connor chuckled. "Enough with the jest, Angus. I want to hear about the slayer."

"Verra well." Angus slipped hissgian dubh back into its sheath. He smiled at Connor and Ian, who were both grinning. "We can always kill the fledgling later."

"Shit." Gregori glared at the Scotsmen. "You guys have a sick sense of humor." He shoved Angus's claymore to the side and perched on the corner of the table. "I'd like to see you and your ancient sword take on the slayer armed with a bazooka."

Angus nodded. "Ye might have yer wish before all is done."

"So were ye right?" Connor asked. "Is the slayer Emma Wallace?"

"Aye. I found her wandering about with a bag of stakes."

"Did ye destroy her stakes?" Ian asked.

"Nay." Angus stood and swung his claymore onto his back. "I made sure she left the park. She willna be killing anyone tonight."

"And tomorrow night?" Connor stepped toward him. "Did ye talk to her? Convince her to stop for good?"

"I'll see her tomorrow." Angus pushed open the kitchen door. "Tell Roman no' to worry. I'll take care of Emma Wallace." He left, leaving the door swinging behind him.

"Wait." Connor slipped through the door on a swing and joined him the foyer. "What kind of person is she? Will she be easy to persuade?"

"Nay, she feels strongly about her work. She's verra stubborn. And proud."

"Sounds familiar."

Angus arched a brow. "If ye're saying we're somewhat similar, I've already realized that."

Connor lowered his voice. "Do ye want help?"

"Nay." Angus didn't realize how abrupt his response had been until Connor regarded him with raised eyebrows. He cleared his throat. "I'll handle this on my own."

"I thought our side of the story might be easier for her to believe if she heard it from more than one person."

"Nay." Angus gripped the newel post at the base of the grand staircase. Why this sudden possessiveness when it came to Emma Wallace? Was it due to his pride that he refused to consider her more of a challenge than he could handle? Or was it more? "I'll take care of this. Alone."

Connor inclined his head. "As ye wish."

Angus moved to the center of the staircase spiral where he could see the landing on each floor. It would be faster to teleport to the fifth floor than climb all the stairs.

"She's a bonnie lass," Connor whispered behind him.

Angus whipped around to glare at his friend, but Connor just gave him a knowing look. Bugger. Angus switched his gaze back to the fifth-floor landing. "Will Roman mind if I use his office?"

"Nay. Ye plan to do some research on Miss Wallace?"

"Aye. If I can figure out what motivates her to be a slayer, then remove that motivation, then—"

"She would stop slaying," Connor finished the sentence. "A good plan."

"I hope to make her an ally."

Connor stepped toward him, a doubtful look on his face. "That's a far step, from slayer to ally."

"We brought Austin Erickson over to our side."

"But he was never an actual slayer. Miss Wallace has killed our kind four times that we know of. She's a fiercer enemy than Austin ever was."

"Aye, she's a challenge, but make no mistake." Angus lifted his chin. "I willna be defeated."

With a nod, Connor stepped back. "Good night, then."

"Good night." Angus teleported to the fifth floor, then entered Roman's office. While he waited for the computer to boot up, he helped himself to a bottle of synthetic blood from the mini-fridge. Type O, the same blood type as Emma. Some Vamps considered it too bland and common for their tastes, but Angus had always preferred simple meals. He warmed up a glass in the microwave, then removed it, sniffing the fresh, wholesome aroma. Just like Emma. She came from strong stock. Strong enough to sustain a man forever.

He wandered back to the desk, sipping from the glass. By the time he met her tomorrow night, he'd have all the information he needed.

He could hardly wait for the battle to begin.

Emma dropped her bag of stakes on the kitchen counter, then headed to the fridge to look for breakfast. Or supper. Or whatever you called it after working all night long. Her stomach rumbled with hunger as she opened the refrigerator door.

"Brilliant," she muttered as she stared at one tiny container of low-fat yogurt and a bag of wilted lettuce. She'd forgotten to drop by the store on the way home. It was all that Scotsman's fault. Angus. All the way home, she'd wondered about him—was he a vampire or not?

With a sigh, she grabbed the strawberry-flavored yogurt. Was she overreacting? Angus could be just a normal guy. Yeah, right. She ripped the foil top off the yogurt and stuck a spoon in the container. There was nothing normal about Angus. He was clever, handsome, dreamy in every way, but was he alive? She glanced toward her front door.

All three deadbolts were locked, and the blinking light indicated the alarm system was on. Still, a vampire could teleport anywhere.

In her tiny SoHo apartment, she was across the kitchen and in her living room in five steps. She left the yogurt on the coffee table and wandered to the window to peer through the blinds. Dawn would be breaking soon, and she would be safe during the day. The street was empty except for a row of parked cars and a few early risers who had taken out their dogs. The dogs were doing their business around trees while their sleepy masters waited, a cup of coffee in one hand and a plastic doody sack in the other. Emma closed the blinds and wandered toward her bright red loveseat. Maybe she should get a dog. Then she wouldn't always be alone. It was hard to have any sort of relationship when she had a job she couldn't discuss and secrets she couldn't share. Unfortunately, her slaying activities might no longer be secret. If Angus was a vampire, he'd know exactly what her stakes were for. The next question was—would he spill her secret to other vampires?

She dug his business card from her pocket. It was white, with a clan crest in the upper left-hand corner. The tartan was a blue and green plaid just like the kilt Angus had been wearing. His name was listed under MacKay Security and Investigation, addresses in London and Edinburgh. MacKay Security and Investigation? That sounded familiar. She opened her laptop on the coffee table, and accessed her files from work. The Stake-Out team logo came on the screen, and she did a search for Angus's company. While she waited, she spooned yogurt into her mouth.

If Angus's company was based in London and Edinburgh, why was he in New York? The search ended. Angus MacKay's company provided security for Romatech Industries.

Emma swallowed hard. This wasn't absolute proof that Angus was a vampire, but it certainly proved he was in league with the enemy. Romatech was owned by the most powerful and rich vampire on the East Coast, Roman Draganesti. Emma's boss, Sean Whelan, had a ton of info on Roman. He was coven master of the East Coast Vampires, inventor and producer of synthetic blood at Romatech, and Sean's son-in-law.

Sean was spending all the Stake-Out team's time and resources in his quest to find and rescue his daughter. Emma disagreed with his primary mission, but didn't argue with the boss. She simply did her job at the office, then went out hunting afterward. Killing vampires should be the primary mission. It was the reason she'd joined the Stake-Out team.

Sean was into collecting information. As far as Emma was concerned, the only info you needed to know was whether the suspect was a vampire. If he was, he needed to die.

She typed in the website address from Angus's business card. The home page for MacKay Security and Investigation came on screen. Beneath the title of the company, in small print, it read "Founded in 1927." At the bottom of the page, it listed the addresses in London and Edinburgh, then warned "Consultation by appointment only." There was an e-mail link.

Emma clicked on it, and the recipient was listed as Home Office. She wrote a short note. This message is for Angus MacKay. Just wondering if you're dead or alive.

She debated whether to send it. What if he responded? Her pulse quickened at the thought. She clicked on Send. And winced. She shouldn't communicate with the enemy, but then she wasn't sure he was the enemy. His website was no help. It consisted of only one page. Clearly he wasn't offering any information about himself.

She opened her cell phone. With any luck, her old workaholic supervisor at MI6 would still be in the office. He always claimed terrorists didn't take the weekend off, so why should he? She punched in his number. Two rings. Three. She jabbed another spoonful of yogurt in her mouth.

"Robertson here."

She swallowed quickly. "Brian, this is Emma."

"Emma, love. How are you? Are the Yanks treating you well?"

"Yes. Thank you. I… I was wondering if you knew anything about a company based in London and Edinburgh. It's called MacKay Security and Investigation."

"I'll take a look. Hang on."

Emma ate more yogurt while she waited. What kind of case was Angus working on? He certainly wasn't attempting to work undercover. A man in a kilt with a claymore tended to stand out. It was a wonder half the women in Manhattan weren't following him around drooling. Or praying for a sudden, brisk wind.

Mum had always insisted that Dad wear black unders when wearing his kilt. Dad would then tease her that he'd forgotten, and Mum would drag him into the bedroom to make sure he was properly dressed. The inspection tended to take an hour or more. Emma smiled to herself. She'd been thirteen years old before she'd figured out what was taking them so long.

"Emma?" Brian's voice interrupted her musings.

"Yes, I'm here."

"MacKay Security and Investigation was founded in 1927 by Angus MacKay the Third. In 1960 the president is listed as Alexander MacKay. Then in 1995 Angus MacKay the Fourth took over."

"I see." So Angus was the son of Alexander and grandson of the founder, Angus the Third. Unless… he was all three? "Are there any photos of them?"

"No. They keep a low profile," Brian continued. "Don't advertise. Can't even find them in a phone book."

"That's odd."

"Well, I suppose they've been in business long enough, they have all the clients they need. Here's something interesting… "

"What?"

"The company performed some secret missions during World War II. Angus the Third was even knighted."

Emma blinked. "Really? I wonder what he did that the armed forces couldn't do."

"Don't know. And it looks like Angus the Fourth has done a few favors for the queen."

"You're kidding. Like what?" There was a pause while Emma could hear her former supervisor grumbling.

"Crap. It's been erased."

Emma stood and paced across her tiny living room. The more she found out about

Angus, the more confused she became. He didn't sound like an enemy. "So his company has done top secret missions for our government and the queen."

"Yes, and—bloody hell. Angus MacKay has a clearance rating of nine. That's as high as my own."

And much higher than Emma's rating had ever been. "That's totally unheard of. The man's a civilian."

"I gather it has something to do with those top secret missions. At any rate, he's well trusted. What do you know about him?"

Other than the fact she wanted to undress him? "Not much." She should be greatly relieved to find out he was trustworthy. Good heavens, even the queen trusted him. But dammit, he provided security for the most powerful vampire on the East Coast. Who could protect Roman Draganesti better than another vampire? Chances were great that Angus was a vampire.

She perched on the loveseat. "Do you have a list of his clients?"

"Let's see. He provides security for several members of Parliament, a few bigwigs at the BBC, and a fashion designer in Paris."

Those clients didn't sound like vampires. Could he actually be human? Shit, she still didn't know for sure. "Thank you, Brian. You've been a great help." She pushed the off button and dropped the phone on the loveseat.

She paced about her small living room. How could Angus be a vampire when the queen trusted him? And what kind of services was he providing that an agent from MI5 or MI6 couldn't do? She winced. A vampire could do things a human agent could never do.

Her laptop made a chiming noise to let her know an e-mail had arrived. She rushed to the loveseat and checked the sender. Angus MacKay.

Her heart lurched. She opened the message.

Dear Miss Wallace, my office in London forwarded your note. Please meet me tomorrow night in Central Park at eight P.M., in the same vicinity where we met tonight. I will answer all your questions then.

That was it. Very businesslike. She was… almost disappointed. What had she wanted?

More flirtatious banter? She'd enjoyed talking to him earlier before he'd turned dictatorial.

She sat there, frowning at his message. Then she typed I'll be there. I'll be the one wearing the pants. Don't forget your purse.

She pushed Send.

She jumped up and paced around the room. What was she doing, joking with an alleged vampire? Did vampires even have a sense of humor? Well, Angus had joked with her in the park.

Her computer chimed. He'd answered? She ran to the loveseat and opened the mail.

I'll leave my sporran at home, if you'll leave your pants.

She gasped. That naughty man! She laughed, then stopped abruptly. He might not be a man. He might be the enemy.

She collapsed back against the cushions. What a stupid thing to do. Flirting with the enemy. Why did he have to be so damned attractive? She needed to get her priorities straight and plan her strategy for the next night. She usually killed vampires by catching them completely off guard. She wouldn't have that advantage with Angus. She would need… a trap. And a way to restrain him.

The jangle of her cell phone startled her. Had Angus found her number? "Hello?"

"Emma, Brian here. I just received an odd report from data security, and I thought you should know."

She sat forward. "Yes?"

"Someone accessed the personnel files about ten minutes ago. They had clearance, but they didn't identify themselves, so a flag went up. Before security could break the connection, this person managed to download one file." Brian cleared his throat. "I thought I should warn you."

A chill seeped through Emma's skin. "Whose file was it?"

"Yours."

"I see." Her voice sounded far away. "Thank you." She set the phone down and took a deep breath to steel her nerves. So Angus was checking her out. He would know all about her. Her gaze drifted to the naughty e-mail he'd sent. If he was a vampire, tomorrow night would be his last.

And even a pardon from the queen couldn't save his gorgeous ass.