Black

by Donya Lynne

  “He never mated my mother,” Bain said quietly, answering Micah’s unasked question. “He mated Cordray’s mother. She was a human. My mother was of an arranged pairing meant to give my father a queen, but his true mate gave him a daughter. Cordray.”

  It all made sense. How Cordray could speak to Bain so casually. How she openly disagreed with him. How she called him Bain in public when no one else could.

  Family.

  If Cordray was Bain’s half sister, that meant she was Micah’s . . .

  This had to be some kind of sick joke. Medusa? Satan’s mistress? She was part of the family, too? He didn’t want to believe it, but there it was, scrawled in elegant black ink, her name in the family tree, right next to Bain’s.

  His father coming back from the dead he could take. Finding out that Ronan was his half brother? Yeah, he could handle that, too. He could even accept that he had dreck blood in him, because he knew in his heart that was how he’d been able to sire the young growing inside Sam’s belly. And finding out he was of royal blood, both dreck and vampire? He had already begun to assimilate that knowledge, as well. After all, you didn’t live the life Micah had lived without learning to adapt to shocking news quickly. But Cousin Cordray? He just couldn’t bring himself to embrace that idea.

  “Kind of makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, doesn’t it?”

  Micah’s gaze swung around to find Cordray leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, her dark-red lips knotted in a shit-eating smirk.

  “Honestly, it makes me want to vomit.”

  “And ruin this glorious antique Aubusson rug?” She waved her arm in a dramatic arc toward the huge rectangular layer of carpet on the floor. “And I was so hoping you’d name your firstborn after me.”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  “I heard Skeletor ended up being your brother.” She pushed away from the door and sauntered into the room. “And here I thought you and I had problems.”

  “We do have problems. And from the looks of things here”—Micah gestured toward the book—“Skeletor is part of your family, too.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She approached Bain’s desk. “I was almost pissed about that. Then I considered how entertaining it will be to watch you deal with him, and it filled my little black heart with joy.”

  “I bet it did.”

  “Besides, he’s directly related to you. I barely share genes with him. And you.”

  “Lucky me.”

  Bain finally stepped in. “Knock it off, you two.” He faced Micah. “Cordray is my half sister, Micah,” Bain said, rising from his seat. “And your cousin, so try to get along.” He glanced between them. “I know the two of you have a history, but her heart is pure.”

  Micah snorted. “Yeah, as pure as arsenic.”

  “Aw, you do care.” Cordray plopped her ass on the edge of Bain’s desk, swinging one long, latex-clad leg over the other.

  Bain shook his head in exasperation, approaching Cordray. “What have you got for me?”

  She pulled what looked like a microSD card from a pocket in her leather jacket, which had a huge embroidered sugar skull on the back. “This is it.”

  Bain took the card. “I’m actually surprised to see you here.”

  “Why?” She swung her leg forward and back, making the latex crackle and creak as it rubbed together.

  “Shouldn’t you be with Trace? I assume he’ll be entering his calling soon, and you don’t want to be far when he does. He might destroy the city to get to you.”

  “I’m on my way to him now, but I figured I had time to drop this off first.”

  Micah pointed to the small card. “What is that?”

  “A report from Sonia.”

  Micah glanced up. “You know about her?”

  “I just learned who she is yesterday.”

  Bain turned the small disk over in his large fingers. “Did she tell you if she found something?”

  “Based on what she said when she gave me the card, I’d say she found the mother lode.”

  “Why? What did she say?” Bain asked.

  “She said, and I’m paraphrasing, of course, ‘There’s enough evidence here that not even God could talk his way out of being guilty.’ I have a feeling she’s been very thorough.”

  “Great. I’ll start going through the files as soon as I’m done here.” He set the SD card next to his blotter.

  Cordray hopped off the desk then slithered up beside Micah and sat down next to him, peeking over his shoulder at the family tree. “I’ll admit, I was as revolted as you are when Bain told me you and I were cousins.”

  Micah gave her the side-eye. “Doubtful.”

  She pretended she hadn’t heard him. “I was like, ‘No. Micah’s a major ass. I could never be related to such a wanker.’” She smirked.

  “So, you didn’t know?” Part of him had considered that she’d known the truth all this time and had hidden it from him.

  “Nope. Not until yesterday.” She gave a subtle shake of her head and sighed as she sat back and crossed her legs, making all that latex crackle again. She casually stretched her arm over the back of the couch behind him. “Honestly, I’m still trying to get used to the idea, but I’ve realized it could be a lot worse. At least my line doesn’t contain dreck blood.”

  “Cordray . . .” Bain’s tone held an edge of warning.

  She smiled sweetly. Too sweetly. “I’m only kidding. Micah knows I’m only teasing him, don’t you, cousin?”

  Micah glared at her. “Please tell me I’m not going to have to put up with you at family dinners from now on.”

  She issued an amused snort. “Oh, come on, where’s your sense of humor. After all, we’re distant cousins. As in way distant. So distant that—by human definitions—we could legally get married.”

  The thought made him want to gag. “If that’s supposed to make me feel better, we need to work on your bedside manner.”

  She shrugged flippantly. “Just sayin’.”

  “Don’t you have a new mate you should be fucking?” How did Trace even put up with her?

  She pushed herself off the couch. “As a matter of fact, I do. Bain.” She nodded in farewell as she swept past him. When she reached the door, she stopped and looked over her shoulder at Micah. “See you soon, cousin.” She laughed then breezed out the door.

  When she was gone, Micah met Bain’s gaze with enough irritation to cause a rash. “I may have to kill your sister.”

  Bain grinned. “I often think the same thing.”

  “I’m being serious.”

  Cordray was enjoying the newfound familial link between them a little too much.

  Bain waved his hand dismissively in Cordray’s direction. “Give her time. You’ll see she’s a solid ally. She’s my most trusted advisor for a reason. No bullshit. No games—at least when it comes to official business. She might ruffle feathers, but she shoots straight.” He harrumphed. “And she is Trace’s mate, so you’re going to have to get used to her sooner or later.”

  “I’d prefer never.” He closed the book and stood, extending it toward Bain. “Is there anything else in here I need to know?”

  “No.”

  “Then get it away from me. It’s done enough damage for one night.” As Bain took the book from him, he snagged his brandy snifter from the table and paced to the window. God, it felt good to get that book out of his hands.

  Bain chuckled then quickly sobered as he set the book back on its pedestal. The ensuing silence felt like pending doom.

  “We have one more thing to discuss.” Bain placed a Plexiglas cover over the book and locked it.

  “Just one. Are you sure?” Could the avalanche of shit that had been dumped on him tonight finally be coming to an end?

  “Yes, just one, and then you can leave.”

  Micah checked the time. Dawn would be upon them soon, and he wanted to return home to Sam. Especially now, when it seemed his decision to quit his job as an enforcer wasn’t going to be as easy a
s he thought.

  Bain made his way behind his desk and pushed back his throne-like chair. Before he sat, he gestured toward the wing chairs on the opposite side. “Have a seat, Micah.”

  “I think I’d rather stand.” Sitting felt too official. Too much like Jesus being led to the cross so his hands and feet could be nailed down.

  Micah didn’t do being nailed down. Or crosses. Or any of that sacrificial shit.

  Bain didn’t respond for a moment then offered a pinched smile. “Very well.” He lowered himself into his massive leather chair with all the dignity expected of a king, which made Micah feel even more like a lamb led to slaughter.

  The role you were meant to fill.

  The words lilted through his mind again. The words Bain had said to him weeks ago. Words that had haunted Micah ever since. Now, as Bain’s austere gaze fell upon him, he could almost hear him saying those same words now.

  I have other plans for you, Micah. Wasn’t that what Bain had told him a few minutes ago?

  Bain laced his fingers together and rested his hands on his desk’s polished surface. “Now that you know your bloodline extends all the way back to King Cato, we need to discuss your future, and I’m not going to pull any punches.” He squared Micah in his sights. “I want you to be crown regent.”

  The snifter nearly slipped from Micah’s hand. Okay, so maybe he should have taken that seat Bain had offered.

  He took a hasty drink, spilling some of the brandy down his chin. He quickly lowered the glass and wiped his mouth. A chill rippled down his back. “Crown regent? As in . . .”

  “As in, I want you to rule in my place if anything should ever happen to me. Your line hails from King Cato’s eldest son. Rysk was older than my forefather, Ryland. By rights, your line should have sat on the throne for the past four thousand years, not mine. Naming you my regent is perfectly acceptable.”

  “But . . .” He eyed the chair, which was looking more and more inviting by the second. “What about Colin. Your son should be the one—”

  “He’s not old enough.” Bain rocked his head back and forth. “Let me clarify. He’s not experienced enough. I plan to correct that with your help, but he isn’t ready to rule a kingdom.”

  “Then Miriam. What about her?” His ass finally found its way to the chair, seemingly of its own free will.

  “She’s able,” Bain said thoughtfully, “and one day she’ll make a fine queen if it comes to that, but she’s still recovering from her addiction and not yet mature enough to take the throne. Remember, Micah, she and I only just began to mend fences with each other. It will take some time for us to be able to work together so that I can show her what it means to be sovereign over our people and teach her everything she needs to know. But all that’s academic. She’s about to start a family. She has no interest in ruling.”

  Micah wanted to tell Bain he had no interest in ruling, either, but he didn’t think that would hold the same sway as Miriam’s lack of interest.

  Micah’s gaze dropped to his lap. Surely someone else was more suited to be regent than he was. “What about Rysk?”

  Bain shook his head. “He’s half dreck. Naming him crown regent under the current political climate would create chaos and potentially lead to civil war. The vampire race needs to be strong now, not divided under a king many of our people wouldn’t trust.”

  “Then my father. He’s higher in the royal line than I am.”

  “He’s not up to the task, still lost to suffering. You know that. No offense, and I commend him for the Herculean effort it must have taken for him to stay alive in the face of such tremendous loss, but how is he supposed to lead a race when he struggles just to get through each day?”

  Micah searched his mind. “Cordray. What about her. She’s your sister. She—”

  “No.” Bain’s firm tone broached no argument. “No one can know she and I are related, Micah, or it will cast doubt over my entire reign.”

  “But you had nothing to do with her becoming your sister?”

  “It won’t matter. The truth will cast a shadow over my father’s reign, which will in turn cast doubt over me and weaken our race.”

  “Then my uncle Rory. Surely, he—”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the people wouldn’t look favorably on his new profession.”

  “Which is . . .?”

  Bain offered him a tight smile. “He cooks the books for crime syndicates and plays mercenary in his spare time. He’s become a bit of an opportunist to maintain his cover and expend his aggression and frustration over losing a child.” He rocked back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin.

  “He’s mated?”

  Bain shook his head. “No.”

  Aahhh, so this was another case of the Black line’s handy-dandy dreck genes producing offspring without a calling.

  “Is he still with the female who gave him a child?”

  “No. She was human, and since she wasn’t his mate, he wasn’t allowed to change her.” Bain gave him a hard look that spoke volumes about how Uncle Rory felt toward Bain for not allowing him to make the human female his davala.

  “He’s not exactly happy with you, is he?” Micah asked.

  “I’d say that’s an understatement.” Bain’s mouth twisted into a frustrated smirk. “I imagine he wouldn’t mind adding me as his latest victim on his hit list.”

  “I see.”

  Bain rocked forward again. “Yeah, well, the point is, once word got out about his profession—and it would get out—the people would never accept him as their ruler.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” Way to go, Uncle Rory. A mercenary. He was really putting those Black family skills to good use. It was just unfortunate that his family had endured so much suffering. Him, his dad, Ronan, and now Uncle Rory. They were a genetic saga of tragedy.

  “Besides,” Bain said, “no one knows Rory. He’s pretty far off the radar. You, on the other hand, have been in my employ your whole life. The people know you. They respect—and fear—you. And never underestimate the power of fear. It can do wonders to keep otherwise rebellious civilians in line.”

  Bain pulled in a cumbersome breath then blew it out on a heavy sigh. “As much as I don’t want to put this on your shoulders, Micah, it’s you or no one. Our people need a regent, especially now, with all that’s going on with our enemies. And you are more than up to the task.

  “Since you mated Sam, you’ve become even stronger than you were in your youth. And since you took over for Tristan, you’ve exceeded all my expectations for the type of leader you will become. Micah, you truly are cut of the same cloth as our forefathers . . . of the kings who came before us. With you as regent, I have no doubt our race would be in good hands should it come to you stepping into my shoes.

  “You’re able to make sound decisions on the fly, and you aren’t influenced by greed or lobbyists who have their own political interests in mind. You can say no without a shred of guilt and see through false veils meant to make you question your decisions. With you, there are no questions. You do what needs to be done for the greater good of the people, and you don’t let anything interfere with that. You’re levelheaded, intelligent, ruthless when you need to be, compassionate when warranted, and judicious. Those are the qualities needed of a king.”

  King.

  The word fell like a wrecking ball being released from its chain. Boom! The weight of it shook the room, leaving an echoing silence in its wake.

  “But I have dreck blood in me.”

  “Only a negligible amount. Not enough for it to be obvious. And no one outside you, me, Cordray, your father, your uncle, Rysk, and Argon know the truth. We’ll bring Ronan into the fold once he’s recovered from tonight’s attack.”

  Micah wasn’t so sure informing Ronan of their dreck lineage was a good idea. Since Ronan didn’t feel any warm fuzzies for Micah, he might accidentally-on-purpose leak the don’t-ask-don’t-tell about dreck blood in their
family tree, which would halt any ideas of Micah filling in as king.

  But the alternative of leaving Ronan in the dark wasn’t acceptable, either. He’d suffered enough. Ro needed to know who he was and where he came from. Micah just had to have faith Ronan would do the right thing if and when push came to shove.

  “What about Sam?” he asked. “I can’t hide this from her.”

  “She should know the truth, too, Micah. She’s your mate, and I don’t expect you to hide something this significant from her.”

  An overwhelming sense of responsibility fell over Micah. What Bain was asking of him would alter his entire life. If he chose to accept the appointment of crown regent, he would be thrown under a spotlight. He would have to become more engaged with Bain and his politics. Forget taking a regular job. He would become more embroiled in the affairs of vampires and their protection than he’d ever been.

  “Would I be expected to change residences?” He imagined a gated home with greater security and guards posted at the exits, as well as patrolling the grounds.

  “I would prefer it. You would be safer, as well as closer.” A contemplative look crossed Bain’s face. “And given the other aspect of this role I’d like to discuss with you, I think you’ll find a new residence could be more suitable.” He said it as if he already had a property in mind.

  “What other aspect?” He should have known “one more thing” wouldn’t be as simple as that.

  Bain pushed forward in his chair, growing even more serious, as well as more passionate. “I want you to head a new team at AKM.”

  Micah’s mouth fell open. Naming him crown regent he could understand. He possessed royal blood. But leading a new team of enforcers? Wouldn’t that just be more of the same. Same old rules. Same hands being tied. Micah didn’t know if he had it in him, especially when he’d decided to quit for the very reasons he was now concerned about.

  “Actually, I should clarify”—Bain pushed out of his chair—“this team would not be part of AKM.” He came around to the front of his desk and leaned against the edge where Cordray had sat a few minutes ago.