“Reii?” Lucian exploded. “Since when? Enhard was your maker.”
Christian shook his head. “No, Lucian. My maker was a woman called Sezja.”
“Since when? He gave you his blood.”
“She did, too. Her blood displaced his.”
“That is impossible,” Lucian said, stalking to the edge of the platform. “You seek to deceive as you have always done. Admit it. Your powers are because of Le Sang Noir. You tried to warn me against it because you wanted to keep it for yourself. You don’t think I can see right through your lies? The Reii haven’t existed for years, and now you claim to be descended from one of them? You are deluded.”
“I don’t care if you believe me or not,” Christian said. “What were you doing with the warlocks? They cannot be trusted.”
“Just as my own people cannot be trusted,” he shot back. “Should I sit quietly in my rooms and await my execution? Is that what you want? I did not kill Enhard, but I am a target for the entire Council.”
“You have brought this upon yourself with your constant scheming for power. You think whatever agreement you have made with the warlocks will be your answer?” Christian strode to Lucian’s side, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket and forcing his brother to look at him. “You must be accountable for your actions. The Council only seeks justice.”
“Justice?” Lucian scoffed, shrugging off his hold. “Trust me, none of them know the meaning of that word.”
“I do.”
“And yet you seek to see me fall to the same fate.”
“I am on your side. Can’t you see that?” Christian hissed. “You are the one blinded by your lust for power, by everything you think you don’t have. The warlocks cannot be trusted—they want one thing. War.”
“Then let them have it,” Lucian said, storming toward the elevator. “Mark my words, brother. You and your Council will rue the day that you crossed me. And as far as trust goes, you broke that the moment you chose a witch over your own flesh and blood.”
“I didn’t choose anyone over you, Lucian.”
“Didn’t you?”
Christian couldn’t believe his brother’s obtuseness. He softened his voice as the elevator doors slid open and Lucian entered. “We are brothers first, bound by something deeper than blood. Does that not mean anything to you?”
Glacial silver eyes reflected into his. “No.”
The doors glided shut, obscuring Lucian from view. Christian sighed. His brother would be his own destruction. He couldn’t see beyond his own agenda, and whatever plans he had with the warlocks would only put him—and the entire House of Devereux—in jeopardy.
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Victoria’s identity was no longer a secret and he knew that things would only get worse. Everyone would make a play for her—the witches, the warlocks, even the vampires. Lucian hadn’t given up on his claim either.
Striding to his office, he slammed the door and braced his forearms against his desk, recalling the sliver of fear he’d felt the moment she’d disappeared from the grove at Belles Fontaines. He couldn’t help himself—he pushed out into the void, settling into the connection between them that had yet to fade.
Victoria? Are you there?
No answer. He tried again, but there was nothing but emptiness.
The door to his office crashed open and his assistant, along with three frazzled Council members, rushed in. His mental projection slammed back into his body as he eyed their rude entry with a raised eyebrow. “What is it?”
“Four vampires murdered in southern Paris,” the closest one gasped.
“When?”
“An hour ago.”
Christian frowned. The timing coincided with the attack on the school, but he couldn’t prove that it’d been the warlocks. And if they were looking for Victoria, why would they attack the vampires? The correlation made no sense, which meant that it had to have been a random attack.
“Their bodies?”
“Calcified. They’ve been turned to stone.”
Stone. That was new. The previous victims had been burned to ashes. Christian’s frown deepened. “Find out if any witches have been killed.”
He watched as his assistant pulled something up on the device in her hand and nodded a few minutes later. “Three killed in the same area two hours earlier.”
It was too coincidental, as if someone wanted them to believe that each side was targeting the other. It had to be the warlocks, and if Lucian’s involvement confirmed anything, it was that he’d never align himself with the losing side.
“Get me Aliya on the phone now,” he snapped to his assistant before looking at the three council members. “And convene the full Council.”
“But, Your Grace—”
Christian silenced the young council member who spoke with a frosty glance. “Do not question me. Now.”
She and the two others bowed their way out of the room. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“I have the high priestess on the line,” his assistant said.
Christian nodded for her to leave the room, and only when the door was closed did he speak into the handset. “I trust you have heard the news.”
Aliya’s voice was even. “Yes.”
“We are being pitted against one another,” he said. “I give you my word that we are not attacking your people, and I can guess that you can do the same for yours. The warlocks are plotting against both of us.”
“What about rogue vampires? Can you vouch for them?”
Of course she meant his brother. She would have heard about the attack at the school, the one with Lucian at its helm and flanked by a contingent of their common enemy—the warlocks.
He spoke urgently into the phone. “We have to stop this, Aliya. The Council is on the brink of voting for war. Think of the consequences, of the collateral damage. So many innocents will die. Is that what you want?”
“Of course I don’t. No one wants war, but it is becoming inevitable. The Clans are mobilizing, too.”
He cleared his throat. “And Victoria?”
There was dead silence on the other end. “She’s not with you?”
“With me?” He fumbled for the words. “Aliya, Victoria ended things several days ago. I haven’t seen her since. I sensed her at the school earlier this morning, but she disappeared. I assumed that she teleported to safety.”
“She did not,” Aliya replied, dread saturating her tone. “No one has seen her, so we assumed that she was with you. Your vampire wards make communication impossible.”
Chills raced across his spine—had his brother succeeded in his plot? Christian pushed his senses out, trying to see if he could sense her presence anywhere, but it was as if she had vanished off the face of the earth. She simply did not exist. “I cannot sense her.”
“We have to find her,” Aliya said. “Whoever has her has to be someone she trusted. She would have put up a fierce fight otherwise.”
“She must have been caught unawares,” Christian agreed. “Aliya, say nothing of this to anyone. We don’t know who to trust. I will check back in with you in one hour. Please contact me at once if you hear anything.”
He placed the phone back into its cradle, resisting the urge to break it into tiny unrecognizable fragments. Victoria was in danger. Somehow, she’d been taken. His hands fisted at his sides. It didn’t matter that they weren’t together—Christian would move heaven and earth to find her. But first, he would start with his brother.
†††
At the House of Devereux, Lucian flung the human host away from him and wiped his red-rimmed lips with the back of his sleeve, his gaze falling to Lena lounging at the entrance to the foyer. The other vampires in the salon twittered, watching the interaction between them with unveiled interest. Lena’s eyes slid to the prone body of the young boy slipping in slow motion from the lounge he’d just vacated. The boy moaned, barely conscious, and Lena’s mouth tightened in obvi
ous disapproval. Lucian shrugged. He was beyond reproach, hers even. The boy was lucky he’d let him live—he’d wanted to drain every last drop from his body.
“To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” Sarcasm dripped from his words, and the twittering increased. Lucian smirked—he enjoyed having an audience.
“They are convening the Council,” she said, approaching him and ignoring his baiting. “To decide whether or not to go to war against the Witch Clans.”
He poured himself a brandy and studied the amber colored liquid swirling in the glass. “So?”
“So, they will need you. They will need every able-bodied vampire to make a stand against the witches. This is your chance, Lucian, to redeem yourself in their eyes.”
“If you believe that you are a more of a fool than I thought.”
She eyed the other house vampires listening intently to their conversation. “Is it true that you were consorting with the warlocks?”
“Word travels fast,” he said dryly. “I’m hedging my bets, sweet.”
“With Freyja?”
“Jealous?” he taunted. “I assure you I only have the usual interests in Freyja and, while a dalliance would be interesting, I’m more concerned with my survival.”
“She is not to be trusted.”
“You sound like my brother,” he flung back.
“More vampires have been killed and we are suffering losses on both sides, Lucian,” Lena said fiercely. “Pretend to be oblivious if you must, but people are dying. If we go to war with the Clans, the cost will be too great to consider. No one wants that, not even me.”
“Now you really sound like Christian.” He waved a careless hand. “If the vampires go to war with the witches, it will only be to my benefit, and yours, if you so desire. That is the deal I have worked out with Freyja—my inheritance.”
Lena froze, her mouth parted in surprise. “What did you offer in return?”
“The witch from the prophecy, of course.”
“Lucian, are you mad?” she whispered. “She is a weapon that they won’t hesitate to use against us!”
He smiled slowly. “I know.”
“What about your brother? The rest of the vampire houses? Are you willing to let them all die?”
“Every single house celebrated the idea of my execution,” he said. “And my brother? Why the sudden concern? Changing your mind again about which brother will bring better odds?” She flinched against his words, but he didn’t stop, relishing the shocked look on that perfect alabaster face.
He crossed the distance between them until she was backed up against the far wall. She stood her ground as his body pressed mercilessly into hers. Her gaze flitted to the others in the room, but their eyes remained averted. Lucian’s grin was lazy. They wouldn’t help her if she screamed for mercy—they’d relish the show. “Is that it? You want to leave me, too?”
“No, I’ve made my choice.”
“Have you?” he whispered, lowering his head to brush her long neck with his lips. The hot scent of her filled him and he opened his mouth upon her skin, dragging his tongue across the expanse of creamy flesh. His palm slid down past her waist to curve around her hip as he drew her against him. He nipped his way up her throat to her jaw and set his mouth to hers. He could feel her reticence and it made a swell of rage rise within him. He tore his mouth away and braced his hands on either side of her head, resting his forehead against hers. “If that is the case, why do you tremble so?”
“I am afraid for you.”
“Afraid for me? Why, pray tell?”
Her hands slid up his shirtfront in a placating gesture. “Lucian, this is madness, what you are doing. Everyone will die if Le Sang Noir is unleashed. It will be a repeat of the bloodbath with the Duchess of Lancaster, and no one will be spared.”
Fear glittered in those transparent eyes of hers. For as much as she was a brutal killer, Lucian had always been able to read her. She was lying now, and the way she was looking at him as if he was beyond reach was the final insult. If she didn’t want to join him, she would die with the others. “I already told you—I have a plan.”
“Freyja will betray you the first chance she gets. Why can’t you see that?”
His voice turned honeyed. “And you think trusting my brother offers a better chance?”
“I do.”
His fingers dropped viselike to her throat. “Then die with him.”
Lena’s eyes bulged, but she was no match for his superior strength. Her legs kicked out and Lucian pressed his body into hers, restricting the movement, while his fist tightened inexorably. Lucian imagined how he would end her life in exhilarating detail. He would crack each bone until he felt satiated, then he would drain her body of every last drop of life, and finally, he would cut off her deceitful, treacherous head. His eyes dilated with pleasure as her struggles intensified. Damn but she was strong.
Her knee rose to catch him in the groin, dislodging his tight hold for one moment. She fought him like a hound from hell, scratching, biting, kicking to get away from him. He threw himself on top of her and they went rolling across the floor, their captive audience darting out of their way. Lucian settled his weight on hers, still gripping her throat and watching the fight fade from her eyes.
His free hands slid down to the clasp of his trousers. “Once more for old times’ sake?”
She spat at him and turned her face away. Lucian couldn’t help himself. Readjusting his grasp, he bent down and sank his fangs into the flesh at the base of her neck. Her blood flowed past his lips into his mouth as he pulled deeply, sapping her strength with each swallow. After several long moments, he pulled away.
“Such a pity,” he told her. “A waste, really.” He gripped her chin, his thumb sliding along the flawless skin there. “He said his maker was Reii. If that were true, you would be such an asset. I understand only too well the bond between a maker and his progeny. I see the answer in your eyes—you will always choose him over me.”
“Your jealousy has made you blind,” she whispered, a bubble of blood frothing at her mouth. “I gave everything to you.”
“You will give everything to me, sweet.”
He bent his head just as the door to the apartment crashed in on its hinges and a hammering force drove into him. Lena’s body rolled to the floor as Christian’s fists pounded into his sides, making him gasp.
“Get out,” Christian snarled to the vampires in the room, and they scurried like rats toward the doors. “What are you doing, Lucian?”
“Tying up loose ends?”
“You have lost your mind,” Christian said, slipping his arms beneath Lena’s shoulders and knees and placing her on the bed. He bit his wrist and let his blood flow into her mouth, waiting as she pulled it to her lips and sucked on it. Color bloomed in her wan cheeks, and he gently drew his hand away, returning his focus to his brother.
“What were you thinking? Lena has been nothing but loyal to you, and you punish her to within an inch of her life?”
“Punish?” Lucian drawled, cracking his knuckles and hooking one leg over the other in the chair. “Dear brother, if you hadn’t interrupted us, your precious progeny would be dead.”
Anger sparked in Christian’s eyes. “You dare too much.”
“It is my right—she belongs to me. She swore fealty to me. If she breaks those oaths, her sacrifice is her death. Just like in the old days when loyalty meant more than life.”
“I was always loyal to you, Lucian.” The weak voice came from the bed as Lena drew herself into a sitting position. Lucian blinked at her swift recovery, his gaze sliding to his brother’s. He had drained her nearly dry. His stare flicked down to his brother’s wrist that was now healed but still stained with blood.
“I may have been too hasty in my reaction.” Lucian stood with deliberate slowness and walked toward the mantel, where he poured himself a stiff drink. He lifted an inquiring eyebrow in Christian’s direction, but d
idn’t wait for an answer before filling a second glass. He offered it to him. Christian took the glass but did not drink. “You are right, dear brother, after all.”
“About what?”
“About us being bound by more than blood. Truce?” He could see Christian wavering, considering his peace offering for truth. But his shoulders relaxed a smidge and Lucian knew that he had won. He placed his drink down and pulled his brother into an embrace, his eyes flicking to Lena. “I am sorry.”
Lena moved fast, her hand outstretched as she emptied the syringe into Christian’s neck. Christian stumbled backward, bucking against him, but Lucian held fast. A cold smile blossomed on his face as the liquid silver sank into his brother’s bloodstream, incapacitating him like nothing else could. Christian’s eyes rolled back in his head and he hung like a dead weight.
“Are you all right?” Lucian asked Lena, his fingers caressing her face. “I am sorry I was rough on you, but your performance was spectacular.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes were shadowed as she stared at the limp body of her maker. “What are the warlocks going to do to him?”
“Use him to get the witch.”
“How do you know they won’t kill him once they get what they want?”
Lucian eyed his longtime accomplice. “I don’t. Do you care?”
Her eyes hardened. “No.”
“That’s what I thought,” he said with a smile. “If what everyone says is true, soon my late brother’s gifts will manifest, and you will be one of the most powerful vampires left. We will forge our own history together.”
SIXTEEN
Keep Your Friends Close
Victoria lay cocooned in a wide heavenly soft bed, silk sheets pressing against her legs. She could see blue skies and hear the sounds of the ocean, the waves breaking in the distance. Warm sea breezes swept through the open hut, making the silk wick against her skin.
Her body felt deliciously, deliriously alive as she stretched, turning to face the man sleeping on his stomach beside her. Her eyes traced the lines of his bare torso, the white sheet hanging low on his trim hips, just above the rise of his buttocks. The material left nothing to the imagination as it draped across his body—outlining his well-muscled thighs and legs. Her eyes drifted to the curves of his back and the shining silver tattoo that inked the length of his spine.
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