The Supernaturals of Las Vegas Books 1-4

by Carrie Harris

  “Ah.” That hadn’t taken long. Chandra hadn’t taken much interest in him before Viktor bit the dust—she’d never phoned his office, although she’d reached out to Tait a few times—but now he couldn’t seem to shake her loose. How annoying. The two men met each other’s eyes in a rare moment of complete understanding. Neither of them were particularly happy with Chandra, but both were too well bred to say so aloud. “Did she happen to say anything else?” asked Gregor.

  “When I asked her what this was pertaining to, she said—and I quote, ‘It is a matter of personal business. He’ll know what it’s about.’ Shall I continue to screen her calls if she phones again?”

  Gregor sighed. “No, no. That won’t be necessary. Put her through the next time she calls, please. Best to get it all over with.”

  Antoine gave him a look but said nothing. Gregor could only imagine what his assistant thought of him. Perhaps he imagined Chandra was a former fling, or a girlfriend? It wouldn’t do his image harm to appear to have a social life—it would make him look more human, he thought—but he quelled at the thought of being linked to Chandra in that manner. Liss, on the other hand…he could happily see introducing Liss to Antoine. He could take her down to the casino floor each night and have a private dinner ordered in for them. Even if he couldn’t eat, he could sit with her while she dined. They could converse, just like a normal couple.

  “I should prep for my meeting with the Lorenssons,” continued Gregor. “Are the weekly reports printed yet?”

  “Yes, sir. They’re on your desk. I’ve taken the liberty of pulling last week’s reports for comparative purposes as well.”

  “Thank you,” Antoine,” said Gregor, but before he could disappear into the inner sanctum of his office, the door opened behind him. The scent of perfume washed over him, cloying in its intensity.

  “There you are!” exclaimed Chandra.

  He recognized her voice before he turned around, and so he could arrange his features into what he thought was a suitable expression. Pleasant but not overly familiar. He didn’t want to encourage her, after all.

  She gave him a toothy smile, like she was trying extra hard to project how positively thrilled she was to see him and how she couldn’t have waited any longer. It was all a bit overdone, just like her perfume. She’d picked a nice black dress, then topped it off with giant, ostentatious jewelry that begged to be noticed. Her makeup would have been nice if she’d been a little less aggressive with it. As it was, her drawn-in eyebrows gave her a look of perpetual surprise.

  Gregor couldn’t help but compare her appearance to Liss’s. It was less about their personal physical characteristics and more about the application thereof. Liss carried herself with understated elegance. Although her family was wealthy as a result of their relationship with the Renaissance—and with him—she didn’t make a point of displaying it. Chandra’s appearance demanded respect she hadn’t necessarily earned. Liss trusted in her own ability to earn it. With that comparison in mind, Chandra came off as a bit pitiful to Gregor. He knew she was foundering; she’d never dressed like this when Viktor was alive. The whole situation had clearly thrown her for a loop. Perhaps now that she’d had a moment to think about it, she might have rethought her position on Liss?

  So he swallowed his distaste and concern and greeted her politely. “Chandra. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting so long. I was unavoidably detained.”

  “Everyone wants a piece of you now, don’t they?” she simpered. “Poor dear.”

  He tried not to react as she patted him on the arm like a particularly sensitive pet in need of soothing lest it go wild.

  “What can I do for you? My apologies for being so abrupt, but as you mentioned, my time is in high demand lately,” he replied, well aware of Antoine’s listening ears. Although Antoine had made a point of busying himself with paperwork. If anyone could deliberately turn his ears off, it would be Antoine, but Gregor wanted to take no chances.

  “It’s… well, my business is private. Do you mind if we step into your office?” she said, lowering her gaze in a move that managed to come off calculated and demure at the same time.

  With every moment, Gregor became increasingly more concerned. Chandra hadn’t given up her designs on him, that much was clear. He could only hope that she’d relaxed her vendetta against Liss, or this meeting would end poorly indeed. There would be a scene. He didn’t want to tax Antoine too much, not so early in his kingship. It would be much better to bring him in slowly, if such a thing had to happen.

  He made these calculations quickly and then gestured to his door. “Of course. After you. May I interest you in a refreshment?”

  The offer wasn’t made in earnest. He certainly wasn’t about to provide blood in his office—such things weren’t done in polite society. Hollywood vampires were always waving around goblets full of the stuff, but blood was best drank warm and quickly and fresh from the vessel. Plus, gesturing about with a glass full of it was a surefire way to ruin the rugs. But polite convention dictated that he had to offer, and so he did.

  For a brief moment, a fey glint lit her eyes, and he thought she was about to say something scandalous. He wondered how he’d react. Maybe that was the whole point of it—this was a test. She wanted to know what kind of king he’d be. Whether he had the strength to stand up to her.

  He turned his back on her and walked into his office. These games were silly, and he had no desire to be drawn into them. If she wished to break all of their laws in order to see what he was made of, she’d see it all too well.

  After a moment, she followed him, closing the door behind them. Then she took a moment to cast an appreciative glance about the room.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place,” she said warmly.

  He followed her gaze. There was nothing to like. His desk was a shiny, lacquered black surface. Nothing sat upon it except for a sleek computer and an equally sleek telephone. A single painting—minimalist slashes of black and navy on a white canvas—hung above the desk. Leather chairs sat opposite the desk, waiting for guests. The one concession to décor was the rug, a plush Turkish weave in muted tones of blue and black. It looked like no one worked here, or maybe like a new tenant had just moved in. Funny how he’d never had the urge to make his mark on any of the places he inhabited until now.

  He gestured to one of the guest chairs. “Please, sit.”

  Once she’d settled herself, he moved behind the desk. Her mouth twisted into a moue of disappointment. She’d hoped he would sit next to her, and clearly she’d gotten the message by his refusal to accommodate her.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked.

  “Well…” She took a moment to visibly collect herself before meeting his eyes squarely. “I wanted to ask you to reconsider your current choice of wife. As I pointed out yesterday, I am the most politically expedient choice. I can take a few moments to list the ways I would make a good wife for you, but I think we are both intelligent enough to know what they are. I understand that you have a prior commitment, but she’s just a thrall. You can’t be expected to honor it under the circumstances. I mean, she would be the queen. Who ever thought of such a thing? A mortal as our queen?” She snorted. “No one would accept her.”

  Gregor took a moment to mull over his response, still hoping that he might find the right words to turn her to his side. He had to at least try, so that later he could reassure himself that he had in fact done all he could.

  “It seems to me that there are two issues here. The first is the issue of your proposal of marriage to me,” he said, trying to speak plainly but with respect. “I am very flattered by your offer, and of course I agree that you would make a fine wife. But I cannot marry simply for political expedience. It is nothing personal; I assure you.”

  Chandra frowned. “But you’re marrying that Lorensson girl for political expedience. You can’t possibly have feelings for her. You’ve known her for what—a day? So your argument doesn’t fit. And it’s politi
cal suicide to boot! None of your father’s supporters will swear fealty to a mortal; I can assure you of that. Duke Mieville was quite firm on the point.”

  “She is a blood mage, Chandra.” He responded calmly despite his urge to yell at her and perhaps attempt to shake some sense into her. “Viktor won his kingship through the power of a blood mage, as I have. My claim to the throne is just as valid as his. But I choose to keep my mage rather than destroying her, as is my prerogative.”

  “Fine, then. If you won’t have her destroyed, I can see the logic there so long as you can control her. But you cannot marry her!”

  Chandra’s voice nearly broke, and Gregor studied her carefully. She seemed legitimately upset, and he couldn’t understand why. She didn’t have true feelings for him. He felt like he would know if she did. So why did his refusal to entertain her proposal upset her so much?

  “Chandra,” he said, not unkindly, “what about this bothers you? You aren’t in love with me. We both know this.”

  She met his eyes hesitantly. At first, he thought she was going to put him off, but her emotions made her blunt.

  “Well, no. But you’re very attractive. I could do worse.”

  “Thank you,” he said gravely.

  “You asked.”

  She sounded defensive, and he waved her down, urging calmness.

  “You’re right, I did. So why are you upset? If we are not meant to be spouses, at least we could perhaps be partners.”

  “Maybe…” She sounded uncertain. “I’ve just… I deserve this, you know. For years and years, I’ve done everything Viktor asked. He promised to marry me when the time was right. But it was never right, and now he’s gone, and all of those promises went with him. So I thought that I would reach out to you, but that girl… that damned girl got in the way of all of it.”

  Her voice rose with anger at the end, and he raised his eyebrows, staring at her until she subsided.

  “I know what it is like to be held hostage by Viktor,” he said quietly. “To try endlessly to win his approval, knowing that it will never come. Still knowing that he holds the keys to the kingdom you so desperately desire. But Liss isn’t to blame for taking that away. I think we both know that Viktor never intended to marry you, just as he never intended for me to have this throne. That whole ‘crown prince’ thing was just a façade. An effort to pull my strings and make me dance.”

  She sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief she produced from her bosom despite the fact that they both knew she couldn’t truly cry.

  “But here’s the difference between you and me. You have the throne, and I have nothing,” she said.

  “You’re right. The situation isn’t fair, and I shall put my mind to solving that. You have skills, Chandra, and it would be a shame to let them go to waste. And I will not promise and fail to deliver. I am loyal. My behavior toward Liss should at least prove that to you.”

  “I suppose it does,” she said glumly, “but I don’t have to like it. What kind of hold does she have over you? Have you considered that perhaps she’s ensorcelled you too?”

  He had. Either Liss was an exceptionally good actress and had managed to dupe him into thinking she was worse at blood magic than she was, or she didn’t have the ability to perform such spells unless she was under heavy duress. He didn’t think she could have ensorcelled him if she’d wanted to. And besides, he couldn’t exactly describe what he felt when he was with her except that he wanted more of it. Frankly, he didn’t care what had caused it, only that it didn’t stop. She made him feel alive, and if that was blood magic, he wanted more.

  “I have,” he said. “And I trust her.”

  “I envy her then,” said Chandra.

  He had no answer except to walk around the desk and put a hand on her shoulder. It wasn’t what she wanted, and they both knew it, but it was all he could offer.

  Chapter 13

  After a nice long post-gym shower, Liss finally buckled down to finish putting away her things from school. The condition of the room during Gregor’s visit had been more than a little embarrassing. Of course, he was so well bred that he hadn’t commented on the mess. It could have been worse, she supposed. She could have left underwear on the floor or something like that. She’d certainly been in a variety of dorm rooms where all kinds of embarrassing things had been left out on display, with no apparent shame on their owners’ parts at all. But still, the next time he came to visit her, she wanted to put her best foot forward.

  The workout had given her as much clarity as she supposed she could expect at this stage, although she continued to think things over as she began to shelve all of her books. Now, it seemed clear that learning to control the blood magic was a smart thing to do. It could be used for more than killing after all, and if she did things right, she might be able to use it to stop more violence from happening. It was an obvious conclusion, but she’d been too emotional to see it before.

  Now, she felt quite comfortable with the possibility. There was no shame in using magic any more than there was shame in being a vampire. It was what you did with those powers that defined you, and she was determined to use hers to protect her family…and Gregor.

  While she had to admit that she still didn’t quite understand him—which was only natural considering how long they’d known each other—she could admit her feelings now. She liked him. What wasn’t there to like? He’d been considerate and protective of her when he didn’t need to be either of those things. He’d quite literally saved her life. She wasn’t blind to his imperfections—over the past couple of days, she’d noticed that he sometimes didn’t think before he acted, or he assumed that his option was the best one and expected everyone else to fall into line. But he seemed to be trying, and she couldn’t ask for anything more.

  As a prospective mate, she could have done much worse. He was powerful. Caring. Sexy. Just thinking about their time together on the balcony at court gave her a shiver of delight. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to wear more shapewear to their next date or deliberately forget it just to see what happened. At college, she used to make fun of girls who went too far too fast, but now she was beginning to see the allure.

  She thought it over as she finished the books and moved on to the closet. Imagined how it would feel to have him slip that wrap dress off her shoulders. How he’d look at her in her favorite pencil skirt, the one that showed off her legs. Would he be scandalized by her lone pair of leather pants, or would he like them? She couldn’t quite decide.

  Her erotic musing was cut short by a polite rap at the door, and she took a moment to fan her flushed cheeks and compose herself before responding. As close as she was with her mother, she didn’t really feel like being discovered all hot and bothered and alone in her own room. That would have been entirely humiliating.

  “Come in,” she called finally.

  To her surprise, Tait pushed the door open. He took a single step inside the room, but that was all. Liss felt a strange pang of awkwardness that she’d never experienced with any of her family before. Sure, she’d fought with Tait when they were younger, in the manner of most siblings, but they’d had it relatively easy. With both of them away at boarding school most of the year, and studying martial arts and vampire history most of the summer, there hadn’t been much time to fight. Family time had been precious. So now that Tait couldn’t meet her eyes, it felt very strange indeed.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” he said politely. “Gregor wants to see you.”

  She took a moment to zip the last suitcase closed and set it neatly on the stack she’d piled up to go to storage. Then she brushed off her hands and shot him a confused look.

  “He could have just called,” she said.

  Tait shrugged. “He doesn’t want you walking around the casino without backup. I think he would have sent Mom, but she’s busy. So he sent me.” He paused, looking down at his shoes. “Is that okay?”

  “Of course it is. I’m sorry we argued, Tait. Everything
’s just strange right now. I imagine it’ll settle down once we’re used to me being home and Gregor being the king, and… everything.”

  She didn’t say what was really on her mind—that she hoped that Tait would abandon those silly plans to take control of the court away from the vampires. Even if the both of them could learn the magic, she didn’t think the vampires would follow them. They needed one of their own in charge, someone who played the long game of survival the way that they did. She couldn’t do that, and neither could Tait. Besides, she didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of teaching magic to someone who so clearly wanted to use it to do harm. Even if she could teach it at all, which she wasn’t so sure about. She had a long road ahead of her, learning how to use it herself, let alone teaching it to someone.

  But maybe she didn’t have to worry, because Tait met her eyes with a relieved expression.

  “I hope you’re right, Liss. And I’m sorry too. You need a minute to freshen up before we head out?”

  She ran a hand over her head to smooth her hair and took a moment to straighten out her off-the-shoulder blouse. It was a bright and vibrant turquoise, and she’d always thought it set off her coloring. She’d picked it out just in case she had the chance to see Gregor later on, and it looked like the gamble was going to pay off.

  “Do I look okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, you look fine. Come on, then.”

  Tait led the way down the hallway and out the front door of their apartment. He walked a few paces ahead of her, and she almost chided him for rudeness when she realized he was trying to keep her safe. Any lingering annoyance vanished in a cloud of fondness. Silly Tait. She’d beaten him eight times out of ten when they’d sparred in her mother’s dojo, but still he’d vowed to keep her safe, and that was what he would do. She had to love him.