Craved: A Vampire Syndicate Paranormal Romance (The Vampire Syndicate Book 2)

by Rebecca Rivard

  My mother opened her mouth. Shut it.

  “Say it.” The Kral Primus set down the glass with a soft thunk. “He was there to stake my boys.”

  I darted a glance at Rafe. He looked as stunned as me.

  “No,” I croaked.

  “It’s true,” Karoly told me. “Rafael was still an infant, and my other boys were barely more than toddlers. Your father compelled a human servant to let him in the house. He was nearly to the nursery when I caught him.”

  My chest seized. I turned to Victorine. “Is this true?”

  She dipped her chin.

  “You sent Mikhail, didn’t you?” ask Karoly.

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “What do you mean?” I looked from my mother to Karoly. “What’s he talking about?”

  Victorine’s expression appeared to have turned to marble. “We argued about it. Your father thought a treaty was the best way to end the feud. But I didn’t trust Karoly to keep his word. I convinced him that if we didn’t strike first, we’d lose you.”

  “So,” I said between numb lips, “it’s your own fault Father was staked.”

  “It was a mutual decision, but yes, I convinced him.” A trace of animation returned to her features. “The blood feud was bound to end with either me or you—or both of us—dead. Mikhail knew that. He did it to protect us. At the time, Karoly wasn’t willing to consider a peace treaty.” The look she sent him dripped venom.

  “The hell I wasn’t,” he growled.

  Rafe set a hand on my lower back and smoothly redirected the conversation. “I’m sure we all agree that a peace treaty is in our best interest at this point.”

  “Yes.” I took a deep breath. “I meant what I said in the courtyard. Go after Rafe, and both the vampire and the human worlds will hear about your plot against the Kral brothers.”

  “Agree,” Karoly murmured, “and perhaps we can reopen negotiations on that joint venture. I have some other ideas, too. Ideas that could make both syndicates a great deal of money. Think, Victorine. If you persist in this vendetta against my sons, I won’t rest until you’re in your final grave. But aside from that, the two of them have bonded. Zoe’s your only spawn. Kill her mate, and your bloodline will end with her.”

  “She could mate with another man.”

  Rafe snarled. “Try it. And you’ll see how long you live.”

  Victorine eyed him coldly. She turned back to me. “You really want this dhampir?” She jerked her chin at Rafe.

  I took his hand. “I do.”

  She shook her head, and then suddenly, she deflated. Lines appeared at the side of her mouth. She looked every single one of her two-hundred-plus years.

  “You’ll live in Montreal,” she said. “Both of you. Enough of this talk of defecting.”

  My heart skipped a beat. I exchanged a look with Rafe.

  “You accept Rafe as my mate?” I asked warily.

  “Didn’t I just say so?” she asked irritably. “I’ll expect spawn. More than one. He’s a dhampir, after all. At least he can give you more than one child.”

  “Perhaps,” I said. “Someday. But we’ll raise them as we see fit. And Karoly will be their primus—not you.”

  “They’re my bloodline,” she said.

  “But I’m their mother,” I said. “And Rafe will be their father. You have to prove to both of us that we can trust you again.”

  Victorine’s jaw worked, but this time, she didn’t try to force me to obey her.

  Maybe she’d stay my prima, and maybe she wouldn’t—but either way, the balance of power had shifted in our relationship, and we both knew it. If she disagreed or tried to interfere after my children were born, I’d simply defect to the Krals.

  “Agreed,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “Swear it,” I said, hard-voiced. “Swear that you will never hurt Rafael Kral or his brothers by word or deed.”

  The room went silent. We all watched as she brought her hand to her heart.

  “I will never harm Rafael, Zaquiel or Gabriel Kral by word or deed,” she said. “Your sons are safe from me,” she added with a look at Karoly.

  He inclined his head.

  It was done. We’d won.

  Elation filled me.

  “As for Montreal,” Rafe said, “we’ll see about that, too. You’re not my prima, Victorine. For the time being, we’ll live in New York. As Zoe said, you’ll have to prove we can trust you.”

  She turned her iciest glare on him.

  He responded with his best cocky grin.

  Stalemate.

  I bit my lip, trying not to smile. Frankly, my money was on my mate. Beneath that handsome face was a tough-as-nails core.

  Karoly interrupted the standoff. “A toast,” he said to my mother. “To our spawn. May their mating be fruitful.”

  Victorine lifted her glass. “Santé.”

  Rafe and I touched our glasses to theirs.

  There was a low rumbling from the man guarding the front door. We all turned to look.

  A long, lethal dagger gleamed in the guard’s hand. He morphed into Tomas Mraz and streaked toward us.

  28

  RAFE

  It was like Tomas had tossed a grenade onto the table. The room exploded in a whirlwind of sound and motion.

  Father and I dropped our wine glasses and leapt to our feet, our chairs clattering to the floor. Father pulled a dagger from beneath his suitcoat. I grabbed my switchblade and released it.

  Zoe was on her feet now, too, and reaching for her dagger. In a blur of motion, Victorine darted around the table and yanked the dagger from her daughter’s hand.

  “Get the hell out of here,” she yelled at Zoe in French.

  Tomas zeroed in on me, that death’s-head grin on his blunt features. He feinted right and came in low, the dagger aimed at my abdomen from the left, a smooth move I’d see him do it a thousand times in practice sessions. If he’d have connected, I would’ve been impaled on its long silver blade.

  But muscle memory took over. I threw myself to the right, taking Zoe down with me. We rolled over and leapt to our feet. I pulled out another switchblade and tossed it to Zoe.

  Tomas stalked toward us. “Stand down, Princess,” he told Zoe without taking his cold yellow gaze from me.

  I didn’t dare take my eyes from Tomas, but I heard the snick as she released the switchblade. Unlike Victorine, I didn’t bother telling Zoe to save herself. I knew she’d die for me—as I’d die for her.

  So I’d have to make sure we both survived.

  “You go left,” I muttered in sub-vocal tones. “I’ll go right.”

  Another move I’d learned from Tomas. When it’s two against one, split up and divide your opponent’s attention.

  “Got it.” My badass princess circled left, the switchblade in her hand.

  Tomas backed toward a wall, keeping an eye on both me and Zoe.

  Meanwhile, Father had lunged at Tomas. But Victorine had leapt onto the tabletop, gripping the dagger she’d stolen from Zoe. She swooped off the table like an avenging bat, slamming into Father from the side and taking him down before he reached Tomas.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Victorine rise above my father and stab the knife down toward his heart. Father blocked it with his own blade. Silver clanked against silver.

  Father threw Victorine off. She sailed across the restaurant, slamming into the other guard, who’d raced to Father’s aid. The soldier plunged his blade toward Victorine’s chest, but she rolled away and faded into the shadows quicker than I’d ever seen a vampire disappear. The knife slammed into the wooden floor.

  Still, it bought Father the time he needed to rise to his feet.

  Tomas’s eyes flicked sideways. I saw the moment he realized Victorine had attacked my father. His mouth slackened. His whole body stiffened.

  Victorine appeared behind my father, knife raised.

  Tomas growled and streaked between me and Zoe, heading straight for my father. He shoved Father
out of the way and plunged his dagger into Victorine’s chest.

  For a sliver of a second, we all stared at him.

  Then Zoe gasped. I swore.

  Father lunged at Tomas.

  Tomas had already pulled out another knife, a switchblade this time. As he pressed the catch, Father slashed out with his knife. The switchblade flew out of Tomas’s hand. Blood gushed from his wrist. He backed up, that damned grin on his face, making no move to pick up his weapon.

  The other guard gulped. “Holy fuck.”

  I spun around, but he brought his blade back to his side. “I’m sorry, sirs.” He looked from my father to me. “I didn’t know it was the lieutenant. I swear, I’m not in on this, whatever it is.”

  “Good,” I snapped. “Now get on the fucking phone and call for back up.”

  “Yes, sir.” He whipped out his cell phone.

  Father advanced on Tomas. “What in Hades are you playing at?”

  He gave Victorine’s dying body a hard look. “You were never the target. That lying bitch promised she wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “So not me. My sons.”

  “Yes.”

  Father’s jaw tightened. “Were they that much of a threat to you?”

  Tomas cradled his bleeding wrist in his left hand. The scent of blood filled the room—his blood, Victorine’s. It mixed with the acrid scent of her smoking skin.

  “Not a threat,” he said. “A weakness. Your weakness.”

  Father said something sharp in Slovak and bared his fangs. “I don’t give a fuck that you saved my life. No one attacks my family, not even you.”

  “Do it.” The big blond man spread his arms. His half-severed hand dangled from his wrist at an odd, scarecrow-like angle, but his grin was as wide as the world. “You always did talk too damn much.”

  Father was a foot from him now. He lunged, rattlesnake-fast, punching the sharp point through Tomas’s sternum and into his heart, a quick, clean kill that the man didn’t deserve.

  Tomas touched the knife’s handle. His grin never wavered. “Zaquiel is ours.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Tomas’s hand fell away from the handle. He crumpled to the floor. His skin smoked and turned black.

  “You will not find him,” he gasped, “until it’s too late.”

  “Tell me, you sonofabitch.” Father crouched down and shook his former lieutenant like a rag doll. “Where is he? What have you done to my son?”

  “It’s over, my friend. Find your true mate. Not…that weak human you made…into a dhampir.”

  “My true—?” Father released Tomas. “You’re insane. The blood madness.”

  “Not…insane. Smart.” Something dark bubbled out of the staked man’s mouth. His skin had already blackened and begun flaking off. “Return to your true self. Your vampire self. Or you…will lose it…all.”

  His lips peeled in a twisted, terrifying facsimile of smile, and then his eyes glazed over as he passed into the light.

  Father stood back up. I moved closer, set a tentative hand on his back.

  He exhaled slowly through his nose, but didn’t speak. Maybe he was as numb as I was.

  At our feet, his closest friend began to crumble into soot and ash.

  “Damn you.” Zoe’s shaking voice made me turn from Father. She knelt on the floor next to her mother. “You couldn’t just let it go, could you, Moth—” She stopped and shook her head.

  I crouched beside Zoe. Victorine’s face was tight with agony.

  My own mouth twisted.

  “I will never harm Rafael, Zaquiel or Gabriel Kral by word or deed.”

  Technically, she hadn’t broken her word. The bitch had probably planned to attack Father all along while Tomas took care of me.

  She could barely speak, but her gaze was locked on Zoe. I don’t think she even knew I was there. “Say it,” she said in a scratchy voice.

  “What?” asked Zoe.

  “Mother. Say it.”

  Zoe just stared stonily at her.

  Victorine moistened her lips. “Please.”

  “Why now?”

  “Because. Just…because.”

  Zoe closed her eyes. Pain etched her features.

  Then she touched Victorine’s hand. “Mother,” she whispered.

  Victorine’s lungs heaved. Her expression smoothed out, and then a fiery puff of smoke came out of her mouth and she went limp.

  Zoe’s shoulders rose, then fell. I drew her to her feet. She turned into me and burrowed her face into my neck.

  “I could never be good enough for her,” she said in a flat voice at odds with her shivering body. “No matter how hard I tried.”

  “Shh, sweetheart.” I hugged her to me. “It’s over now. It’s over.”

  29

  ZAQ

  Car doors slammed. A half-dozen of the Kral Syndicate’s best people pounded into the Hotel Garnet courtyard. The two enforcers who’d been left outside as guards brought them up to date with a few terse sentences.

  They spoke in low voices, but I heard every word from where I crouched on the roof in the darkness with the slayer called Reaper.

  Tomas Mraz had staked Prima Tremblay, and in retaliation, my father had sent Tomas to his final grave.

  Which made no fucking sense, unless what I’d been told was true.

  Karoly Kral was purging the Syndicate of some of our best men. First Andre Redbone, the kapitán of the Louisiana Coven. Now Tomas, his lieutenant.

  Just as Reaper had warned.

  Father emerged from the restaurant alone. He strode into the courtyard, rapping orders at his people.

  Where the fuck was Rafe? Ice coated my insides. My fingers tightened on my dagger.

  Reaper had said that my brother had escaped Philippe’s dungeon, that he’d be at this meeting as well.

  He’s okay. Somebody would’ve said something if he’d died.

  Ever since Zoe Tremblay’s phone call, I hadn’t been able to sleep more than a few hours a day. Whenever I closed my eyes, I pictured my younger brother sold into blood slavery. Fed from against his will, as I’d been.

  Black crept over my vision.

  Reaper nudged me. “Now d’you believe me?” she asked, low-voiced.

  I dragged a breath through my teeth.

  “Zaq?” She glanced at me.

  I shook my head, unsure what to believe.

  “If you don’t stop Karoly, Rafael and Gabriel are next. If your father hasn’t already staked them.”

  I growled. “You don’t give a flying fuck about my brothers.”

  The skin around her eyes tightened, a small flinch that I caught only because I was coming to know her. You’d think I’d hurt her feelings, which was bullcrap.

  Because we both knew the truth.

  Slayers, Inc. wanted Karoly Kral in his final grave, and I was the chosen instrument. Me and my brothers were simply collateral damage—or maybe we were the bonus round, I wasn’t sure.

  Reaper had brought me to New York, but before I acted, I’d insisted on proof. My father could be an ice-cold S.O.B., but he’d strong-armed the Kral Syndicate in to accepting Gabriel, Rafe and me as his heirs. It didn’t make sense that he’d try to take us out now.

  I swallowed sickly. Damn it, why had I hesitated? If Rafe was dead, I’d never forgive myself.

  It didn’t matter that when Philippe had released me, I’d been too damn weak to even lift a fork to feed myself. I should’ve done something.

  Rafe walked out of the restaurant, an arm around Zoe Tremblay.

  Every muscle in my body locked.

  He was alive. Thank all the dark gods, he was alive.

  “Karoly must have a reason for not killing him yet,” Reaper said in an undertone.

  “Like what?”

  Reaper shrugged and scanned the busy street below, patiently waiting for me to make up my mind. She was good at being patient.

  People said I was the nice Kral. The easy-going, bleeding-heart Kral.

  I k
new better. I had a darkness at my core, and Philippe and his sadistic blood-suckers had poked the beast awake. Now it strained and snapped to be free.

  The evidence was mounting that my own father was behind my kidnapping. I should be dead now.

  And according to Reaper, Gabriel was next. She’d told me one slayer had already tried and failed to kill Gabriel, something I’d verified myself. But the slayers would just send another, and another, until we were all dead.

  The darkness paced edgily. Eager to sink its teeth into the man who’d set Slayers, Inc. on his own sons.

  It was time to act. If not, Gabriel and Rafe would die. Reaper had told me that Father had arranged things so we wouldn’t even realize he was behind it. And if I tried to warn them, they’d think I was the crazy one, that I’d been brainwashed into believing our own father was trying to kill us.

  Reaper shifted, a subtle movement that blended with the street sounds. The woman could give a mouse lessons in stealth. “Well?”

  I expelled a breath. “I have to think.”

  Rafe was still alive. That single, indisputable fact battered at my determination to set in motion the plan to trap Father.

  Father could’ve staked Rafe in the restaurant just now and blamed it on Victorine, but he hadn’t.

  Why not? What the fuck was he waiting for?

  I squeezed my eyes shut. I was exhausted, too tired to think straight.

  Time. I needed time.

  I turned to leave. Reaper set her hand on my arm. “Where are you going?”

  I jerked away from her. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

  She pressed her lips together. This time her hurt was plain to see.

  I scraped a hand down my face. “Sorry.”

  If not for Reaper, I’d either be dead or still locked in Philippe’s dungeon, his vampires’ personal chew-toy. She’d convinced Philippe I could be trusted with this mission, then volunteered to accompany me when he would’ve sent one of his own men.

  So I was grateful to her, even if I didn’t trust her. I had a bad feeling that if I failed, her orders were to stake me.

  “I’ve seen enough,” I said more calmly. “I need to think.”