by Sarah Piper
“I have a private jet, love. It’s the only way to ensure I’m not caught unprotected in daylight. Besides, have you ever traveled commercially?” I shuddered in sheer horror at the thought. “That is a fate I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Well, maybe my worst. Certainly not my third-worst, in any case.”
Gray laughed. “Not all of us are jet-owning gazillionaires.”
“Then I suppose it’s good you have at least one friend who is.” I set down my glass and gathered her into my arms again, kissing the tip of her nose. “And when this is over, I’d like to take you to New York—just the two of us. Would that be alright with you?”
Her eyes lit up, making me wish I’d offered it sooner. That I could offer her such simple pleasures every day for the rest of her life.
“Are you serious?” she asked, and the pure, unfiltered joy on her face served only to remind me how important this mission was. How urgently I needed to speak with Grinaldi and track down his rogue vampire before Gray or any other witch came to further harm.
“As serious as this.” With no more than a grin as fair warning, I captured her lush, wine-dark mouth in a kiss so deep and all-consuming, the demon whose bed she’d undoubtedly share tonight would still be able to taste me on her lips.
Unfortunately, my plan backfired. Rather than leaving Ronan a message for later, my kiss seemed to send out a beacon, for the demon in question was suddenly hobbling through the front door with his hellspawn companion, the two of them looking for all the world like they’d been chewed up and spit out by the devil himself.
“Sorry to break up the tender moment,” Ronan said. “But we’ve got bloodsucker problems. Big ones.”
Nineteen
GRAY
“What happened?” I jumped out of Darius’s lap and bolted for the front door, taking in the scene. Ronan and Asher were wrecked, bandaged in some places and bruised in others, their eyes red with exhaustion.
Ronan smiled when he saw me, but it was thin and lifeless, and it didn’t last. “We got jumped on a delivery to the club last night. About a dozen guys crept up on us.”
“They attacked on Black Ruby turf?” Darius rose from the couch, incredulous. “Have they gone mad?”
“Not mad at all, actually,” Asher said, kicking off his boots. We followed him into the kitchen, where he rifled through the freezer for a bag of frozen peas and applied them to a nasty-looking bruise on his jaw. “Pretty sure it was strategic on their part.”
“They’re sending a message,” Ronan said. “They would’ve killed us otherwise. A dozen of them against two of us? We didn’t stand a chance.”
I touched my fingers to his eyebrow, just below a crudely-stitched gash. “Looks like they tried their best.”
Ronan took my hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to my palm. His own hand was bandaged, the sight of it igniting a flash of anger inside me. God, how I longed for the day when I’d have full control over my magic. When I could cast a simple tracking spell, find whoever did this to the man I loved, and bring them to their knees in agony.
“It gets worse,” Ash said. “The vamps were rollin’ with at least four humans.”
“Were?” Darius’s voice went up an octave. “Tell me you’re speaking in the past tense because you talked the humans out of their poor choice in friends, convinced them that vampires don’t actually exist, and sent them home safely.”
Neither demon said a word.
Darius closed his eyes, his face a mask of calm I knew he wasn’t feeling. Through gritted teeth, he said, “You killed four humans? Outside my club?”
“Wasn’t us,” Ash said. “The vamps batted us around first, then let the humans take shots, knowing we wouldn’t do more than throw a few punches at them. When they’d had enough of that, the vamps pulled a Judas.”
“Did they turn them?” Darius asked.
“Nope.” Ash readjusted the peas on his jaw, wincing at the movement. “Staked ‘em. We tried to help, but the dudes bled out fast.”
“They’re setting you guys up,” I said. “Vamps don’t carry stakes. They want people to think you guys did it.”
“No,” Darius said. “Not people. The bloody Fae Council.”
My blood ran cold. If the Council decided to do an inquiry, and Ronan and Asher were found guilty of murdering four humans, they’d be imprisoned. Worse, if the fae felt like making an example of them.
“This is fucked eight ways from Sunday,” Ronan said, grabbing two beers from the fridge and passing one to Ash. I helped myself to Ronan’s, forcing him to get another. My nerves couldn’t handle this conversation otherwise.
“After patching ourselves up at my place last night,” Ronan continued, “we spent all day today trying to suss out the situation, see who was behind the attack. Nobody’s talking—not the other vamps, not the fae, not the shifters.”
“The blood slaves might know something,” Ash said, “but we didn’t dare approach them. The scene was still too hot tonight to risk it.”
“Does Emilio know?” Darius asked.
“His crew showed up this afternoon,” Ronan said. “We didn’t make contact. We didn’t want anyone connecting him to us and making trouble.”
I sat on one of the high-backed stools at the center island and took a few swigs of beer, trying to stay calm. Ronan was right—this was fucked.
“I don’t understand why the humans got involved in the first place,” I said. “Were these guys recruiting?”
“Always.” Darius began to pace across the kitchen, his shoulders tense, his mind clearly working overtime. “There exists a subset of humans who believe that being a vampire is a lifestyle choice—something no more significant than deciding whether to live in the city or the country. They don’t realize that for most of us, it was never a choice. They idolize and idealize us based on Hollywood’s notion of our immortality, knowing nothing of the pain, the isolation…”
Heat flared in his eyes, and for a moment he seemed to forget where he was, lost in the torment of his own thoughts—thoughts I could only begin to guess at.
After a beat, I finally caught his eye and mouthed, “Are you okay?”
He narrowed his eyes as if the question confused him, then looked away.
“Many of them want to be turned,” he continued, “thinking it will solve their human problems or elevate them to some special status they couldn’t otherwise achieve. Unscrupulous vampires take advantage, preying on desperate humans with promises to turn them and help them through the transition once they’ve proven themselves.”
“Sounds like a gang initiation,” I said.
“Precisely,” Darius said. “But what the poor bastards don’t realize is most of them will end up becoming blood slaves, or just dying.”
My stomach turned, my anger at the men who’d hurt Ronan and Ash fading under the harsh light of that truth. They’d simply done what they thought they had to do for a shot at a better life.
Their mistake had been in thinking that becoming vampires was their shot. That it was the very best option they had.
Despite so many supernaturals living in plain sight, most humans didn’t know our world existed, and they were better off for it. But for the ones who’d come by that knowledge, life quickly became a double-edged sword.
For some, their entire worldview collapsed, and it left them untethered and lost. Others tried to share their newfound knowledge with the world, only to be labeled—and eventually driven—crazy. The path was no simpler for those who tried to assimilate or just peacefully coexist; it was all too easy to start feeling small and insignificant when your neighbor or hairdresser or favorite coffeeshop owner lived on human blood, turned into a wolf, carried out orders for hell, traveled to the summer court, cast spells, or brought people back from the dead.
Ronan tipped back the last of his beer, then let out a sigh. “Any idea who’d want to set us up? Who’s sending this message?”
“Or what the message even is?” Ash asked. “They n
ever did tell us.”
“To be fair, I staked the one doing the talking,” Ronan said.
Darius, who’d gone quiet again, finally spoke up. “It’s not a message. It’s a challenge.” He resumed his pacing. “Now that I think of it, it’s unlikely they’re setting up Ronan and Asher for a Council inquiry at all. I believe this is about me—the demons just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I’m not following,” I said.
“By attacking my associates on my turf,” Darius explained, “someone is making it known that he—or they, depending on who’s pulling the strings—no longer consider my authority valid.”
“They mentioned something about you betraying your own kind,” Ronan said. “Which led me to think Hollis’s people were involved. But other than Weston, Hollis never had people.”
“What about the rest of the bloodsuckers you guys iced at Bay Coven HQ?” Asher said. “Any one of them could’ve had friends in high places.”
“Or friends in low places willing to join forces against a common enemy,” I said.
“But I’m not their enemy,” Darius said. “Other than Hollis and Weston, I’ve had very few confrontations with the vampire population—in Blackmoon Bay or anywhere else. Most, in fact, have been loyal Black Ruby regulars for years. Any customer service issues have been settled amicably.”
“It’s not about your business practices,” Ash said. He finished his beer, then set down the bottle, locking me in an intense gaze that burned all the way down to my toes. “It’s about Gray.”
“What makes you say that?” Darius asked.
“The first dude said something about Darius turning into a… What was the phrase?” Asher held my gaze, his lips quirking into a grin that made my fingers itch to strangle him. “Oh, right. A witch’s lapdog.”
Darius huffed, but despite my best efforts to hold tight to my monster-sized grudge against Asher, the image actually made me laugh.
“Oh, you find this funny?” Darius leveled me with an icy stare. “I don’t suppose you want me to fetch your slippers?”
“If you don’t mind?” I said. “Maybe a newspaper, too? No, wait. A magazine would be better.”
“Not the one she smacks you with when you’re a bad doggie,” Asher said.
“Don’t worry, Darius,” Ronan chimed in. “If you’re a real good boy and you promise not to shit behind the sofa, maybe Gray will let you sleep at the end of our bed.”
Darius stepped into Ronan’s space, so close they would’ve been sharing the same air if Darius had actually needed to breathe. “Or maybe she’ll stay in my bed, hellspawn, and while we’re doing everything on that mattress but sleeping, you’ll be outside in the doghouse, whimpering with your nose pressed up against the glass, watching me do things to her you could only dream about.”
Ronan, Ash, and I were laughing so hard, Darius finally had no choice but to join us.
But the good humor was short-lived, the seriousness of the situation quickly chasing away the last of our laughter.
“So what’s next with these vamps?” Ronan asked. “Do you trust your staff at the club? People are going to start talking, if they haven’t already.”
“I do trust them,” Darius said. “I’ll put in a call to my manager later.”
“In the meantime,” Ash said, “I’ll make a few sketches, see what I remember about the assholes who jumped us. Maybe you’ll recognize someone.”
“Good call,” Ronan said.
“A Council inquiry is the very last thing I need,” Darius said. “I’m supposed to fly to New York tonight. Grinaldi finally agreed to a meeting.”
Ronan perked up at that. “About time. That’s the first bit of good news all week.”
“Not anymore.” Darius pulled out his phone, trying three times before he finally figured out how to unlock the screen. “I’ll need to postpone. I can’t go back east until I deal with this.”
“What? You can’t blow off Grinaldi,” I said. “You’ve been trying to set up that meeting for weeks. We need the intel.”
“Gray’s right,” Asher said. “You need to be there. Ronan and I will track down the vampires and deal with them. We just need to let Emilio do his thing first.”
Darius was unconvinced. “The Council—”
“They won’t get involved until the police wrap up their official investigation,” Ronan said. “And by then, Emilio and his guys will have already proven you had nothing to do with it. Hell, he’ll clear our names, too.”
“You’re missing the point,” Darius said. “The Council’s greatest weapon against us isn’t the threat of imprisonment or death. It’s their unbending devotion to bureaucracy. Once this begins, I’ll be tied up in a lengthy investigation that will destroy the last of my credibility, weaken my position, and leave my territory wide open for a power grab, which is precisely what these vampires are counting on. Further, while you may find the ‘lapdog’ comment amusing, I’m taking it for what it is—a subtle threat against Gray. And that leaves me even more unsettled than the thought of jumping through the Council’s many hoops.”
Both demons glared at me, silently imploring me to talk Darius out of bailing on that meeting. But there was no need for the looks; the three of us were absolutely on the same page.
“Darius, wait.” I reached across the counter and grabbed Darius’s hands, willing him to understand. “I know you want to keep me safe, but trust me—the best thing you can do right now is track down that rogue. He’s our best shot at figuring out where the hunter is keeping the witches and what his ultimate plans are.”
“We can figure that out later, after—”
“Without the rogue, we’ve got nothing but a sketchy vision from the fireplace. It’s not enough, and you know it.” I squeezed his hands tighter. “Go talk to Grinaldi. Emilio will investigate the scene at Black Ruby. Ronan and Ash will help. Liam’s… Liam. But between the four, they’re all watching my back.”
“And her front,” Asher said.
“And as long as Ronan’s around,” I said, glaring at Asher, “there’s at least some adult supervision going on.”
Darius shook his head. “I don’t like it.”
“None of us do,” Ash said. “But there’s too much at stake for us to let even one ball drop. Divide and conquer is the best strategy.”
Darius looked deep into my eyes, his concern making my heart melt. I wanted nothing more than to pick up where we left off on the couch, curled up together in front of the fire, enjoying the wine, planning our trip to New York, kissing until the sun came up and Darius had to retire to the basement.
“Are you absolutely certain?” Darius asked, reaching out to cup my face. “I won’t go if you don’t feel safe. We’ll figure something else out with Grinaldi.”
I covered his hand and held it to my face, memorizing the feel of his firm touch, remembering the slide of his hand down my backside in the shower earlier. I would’ve loved to take him up on that offer, to make someone else deal with Grinaldi, to send someone else to investigate the situation at Black Ruby, to hand all of this over to someone—anyone—else.
But we were it. Haley, Reva, and the others were counting on us. Sophie was counting on us. And so was every witch who’d yet to cross the hunter’s path—every witch who was at risk of dying at his cruel hands. If we had even the slightest chance at getting intel that could lead us to him, we had to take it.
“As much as I hate to say this,” I said, “and you might want to get video evidence because I don’t plan on ever saying it again, mostly because it’s probably never going to happen again, but… Asher is absolutely right.”
Darius cursed under his breath, but his honey-warm gaze didn’t falter.
“Then I shall take my leave.” Leaning in close, he brushed his lips against the shell of my ear, giving me a playful nip. “Now be a good little witch and walk your lapdog out to the car for a proper goodbye kiss.”
Twenty
GRAY
The rest of the week passed in an exhausting blur on all fronts—physical, mental, and emotional.
The guys hadn’t made much progress in identifying the vampires who’d attacked them. Emilio had been circulating Asher’s sketches around the Bay, but unsurprisingly, no one had come forward with information. And they likely wouldn’t—especially with control of the territory potentially shifting. No one wanted to wake up on the wrong side of that particular war.
Darius was faring about the same in New York. For the trip that was supposed to take two days at most, he’d already been gone for four. Apparently, Grinaldi was playing games, rescheduling their meeting with one excuse after another.
Here at home, Asher and I had settled into a new normal that consisted of exchanging as few words as possible, suddenly remembering we had somewhere else to be when the other person entered the room, or flat-out ignoring each other. He’d tried to joke with me a few times. I’d tried to laugh. But in the end, neither of us was ready to say the things that needed to be said, starting with our fight the other night, and going all the way back to the night I’d taken his soul and seen all the things he’d spent his life so desperately trying to outrun.
Just about the only good news was my training. Ronan and Emilio had created a workout program for me—a combination of cardio, strength-training, and fighting techniques that already had me moving faster and thinking smarter. I was still ending up on my ass nine times out of ten, but in every match, I fought hard for that one time when I’d get the upper hand, using that to fuel my determination to keep learning, keep improving.
Liam and I had been meeting in the woods in the afternoons, avoiding the realm for now. Instead, he’d been helping me practice releasing my thoughts, allowing me to more easily sense my magic—when it was running low and I needed to rest, when I’d taken too much and needed to dispel it, how to balance my emotions and fears, how to redirect negative energy.
After each session, I’d spend an hour or two journaling in my book of shadows, feeding and nurturing it with my questions, my answers, my observations. The act of writing was a direct connection from my heart to my hand to the page, and with every word I shared, I felt our bond deepening.
