Out for Blood (27 page)

His death hadn’t been the show she’d expected, though. No fire or burst of flames. Not even a shower of ash. Just a disappointing puff of smoke.

Her fingers fell away from her neck. Dominic was also wrong if he thought her desire to be turned had vanished with his visit. If anything, he’d shown her just how necessary the transformation was. She’d be ready now, stronger. When the dark pull of death came, she’d welcome it, knowing it wasn’t the end but a rebirth into the life that would solve all her problems. Being transformed would give her the power she lacked as a human and make it possible for her to raise her grandchild to the fullest of her potential.

A knock sounded at her bedroom door. “Ma’am?” Hilda.

“Just a moment.” Lola retied the scarf she’d worn around her neck all day to cover what Dominic had done; then she opened the door. “Yes?”

“Dinner is ready. Also, Mr. Luke and Mr. John have arrived. I took them to your office to wait.”

“Thank you. I’ll speak with them, then come to dinner.” After Dominic’s visit, she had a few security questions for the shifter brothers. Like how a vampire got into her house without anyone knowing about it. What was she paying them for if not to protect her from situations exactly like that? The more she’d replayed his visit in her mind, the angrier she’d become.

Hilda nodded and left, but Lola kept the door open, pausing to give herself one last glimpse in the entrance mirror before she left. Dark smudges under her eyes betrayed how tired she was, but there would be time for sleep soon enough. Or better yet, less need for sleep once she was turned.

John and Luke rose as she entered her office. Both looked ill at ease. Maybe they already knew someone had been in the house? She waved a hand. “Sit.” She was going to reprimand them, but no need for them to stand at attention. She took the chair behind her desk, moved a stack of mail to the side, then planted her clasped hands in the center of it. “Thank you for coming. There’s a very serious matter I need to discuss with you.”

The two men looked at each other, both starting to speak at the same time. John gave the floor to his brother.

Luke cleared his throat. “We have something we need to discuss with you as well.”

She raised her brows and glanced at John, but his eyes were on his brother. Her suspicions that they knew about the security breach grew. They must be here to apologize. She sat back. “By all means, you go first.”

Again the two varcolai exchanged a look; then Luke continued to speak. “In light of everything that’s happened in the last few days, we can no longer continue working for you.”

Shock coursed through her system. “What?”

Luke sat forward, glimmers of anger in his eyes. “Your administration has made it very clear that our kind aren’t welcome.”

“That’s absolutely not true. I’ve made special exceptions for those othernaturals who work in any kind of government service.”

He snorted. “So if the city benefits from us, that’s okay, but if we’re just ordinary citizens, we’re to be treated like enemy number one.”

Indignation straightened her spine. “My main priority is doing what’s best for this city.” She stabbed her finger onto the desktop. “It always has been and it always will be.”

“Just not for any citizen who’s a shade outside of human.” Luke shook his head and stood. “I’m done.”

“John, certainly you don’t feel this way, too? You’ve worked for me for years.” Kept her alive more than once. Been with her through her divorce. Through the estrangement of her daughter. Every time the press had hounded her, he’d been there to shield her and protect her when no one else had.

John rose, his mouth a hard line. “I do, and until the situation changes, that’s how it’s got to be.”

She exhaled hard as his words sank in. “That curfew protects both sides.” He couldn’t leave her. She needed him. “You’re being ridiculous.”

John pushed his shades up onto his head and leaned over her desk, his hands firmly planted on the wood top. “You know what’s ridiculous? You put a good man to death this morning without cause.”

“A good man?” Did they really think that? Doubt curled through her thoughts, but she forced it away. The time for doubt was past. “That
good
man was a vampire. And my cause was the protection of the city. I cannot allow things to degrade any more than they already have. That man was a killer by nature. Now the rest of his kind will think twice before they take a life in this city.”

Luke straightened. “If being a vampire is a death sentence, when do you extend that to varcolai?” He shook his head. “He wasn’t even the one who broke the curfew. Your reasons don’t justify your actions.”

“I had the full support of the city councilmen, too.”

“Then they’re just as guilty.”

She jumped out of her chair. “Since the two of you were so busy planning your resignations last night, let me give you one more reason for my actions. Another vampire broke into this house last night and tried to kill me.” She pulled the scarf down on her neck. Their gazes went to the puncture wound. “I had to make a statement.”

“You made one all right,” Luke started, “but it doesn’t change our decision.”

“Fine.” She fixed the scarf back into place, picked up a pencil off her desk, and squeezed it. It was that or break down from the overwhelming sense of betrayal. She ground her back teeth together, drawing strength from the new anger the situation provided. “I don’t want anyone working for me who doesn’t want to be here.”

Without another word, John and Luke left.

She sank into her chair and stared blankly after them. Losing John was like losing a member of her family. She rolled the pencil between her fingers. The sense of being powerless to stop the chaos around her was overwhelming. Her stomach felt like it might rebel at any moment. She had to get control of things again. Had to stanch the bleeding before Paradise City was an empty husk.

The pencil snapped. Lola dropped the pieces. Enough was enough.

Tatiana leaned into the butter-soft leather desk chair and crossed her legs, the sound of her silk trousers like a summer breeze. After all the excitement of Svetla and the heightened sense of power the incident had given her, dealing with Damian should be easy. “Bring him in.”

Octavian nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you, my love.” Tatiana was not about to visit Damian again in his new quarters. He could come to her. In this space, no one would get the best of her.

Lord Ivan’s former office was impressive with its black marble, dark wood, and bronze furnishings. Many times she’d sat on the other side of this desk while Ivan held court about some new idea or grand scheme. Many times she’d dreamed of knocking him out of his chair and taking his power for herself. Never had she thought it would taste so sweet.

The new computer Octavian had purchased for her sat on one corner of the desk. A small light on the monitor’s frame blinked. Octavian would need a few minutes to bring Damian in, so she tapped the screen to bring it to life. The news site she’d selected as her home page opened up instantly. Keeping an eye on kine activity, especially now that they knew they weren’t alone in this world anymore, had proved less interesting than she’d expected.

One particular headline caught her eye. NEW FLORIDA PUTS VAMPIRE TO DEATH. She tapped the article to bring it full screen. Well, this was something. A video was imbedded. She tapped the screen again to play it.

The sound was off, but there was no mistaking the vampire suspended by chains between two posts. Malkolm. Her ex-husband. As she watched, a smaller figure dressed in black came into view. Then the video cut away to a reporter. Tatiana dragged her finger along the progress bar to fast-forward through the talking. When Malkolm reappeared, the sky had begun to lighten and the figure in black had pushed her hood back. Blond hair shone with a glow that only one creature possessed. A comarré.
The
comarré. Rapt, Tatiana stared as Malkolm sank his fangs into Chrysabelle’s neck. A frisson of joy shook Tatiana. Perhaps they would both die. Knowing Malkolm as she did made her intimately aware of the consequences of him drinking straight from the vein.

The comarré pushed away from him. He strained at the chains as sunlight crept up his legs. A car barreled up behind him, throwing a flash of light into the camera. When the light disappeared, so had Malkolm.

The video cut back to the reporter. Tatiana tapped the screen twice to darken it and sat back. Had she really just seen Malkolm die? The comarré would have no one to defend her now. If not for the blasted Dominus ball, Tatiana could swoop into Paradise City and take the comarré easily.

Before that fantasy went any further, the office door opened and Octavian shoved Damian through, his hands bound. A fresh bruise marked his cheek. “Bloody prat took a swipe at me.”

Still thrilled by the possibility of what she’d witnessed, she nodded. “That’s fine.”

“It is?” Octavian cocked one brow.

“No, I mean, it’s fine that you hit him back.” She waved her hand, dismissing the unimportant discussion. More than ever, she needed to know the comarré’s vulnerabilities. She came around to the front of the desk, leaned against it, and peered into Damian’s eyes.

A few moments passed. Wisely, Octavian let the silence go unbroken. At last, when she detected the briefest hint of apprehension in the comar’s eyes, she spoke. “Daciana filled me in on your stay in Paradise City.” She crossed her arms like the whole thing bored her. “I take it you enjoyed your time with the comarré Chrysabelle?”

“Never met her,” Damian spat.

Her instinct was to strike out, but that had earned her nothing the last time. She lifted her flesh hand and studied her fingernails. “And yet you stayed at her house? Is she that poor a hostess?”

Damian sneered. “I’m done talking.”

She nodded. Octavian glanced at her, eyes questioning.
All in good time
, she wanted to tell him. Instead, she walked back behind the desk and sat. “Help the comar into a chair, will you, darling?”

Damian grunted as Octavian shoved him into one of the seats before the desk.

“Ribs still bothering you?” She smiled. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way. I prefer the hard way, but you may not.” She tipped her head. “What will it be?”

He leaned forward as though on the verge of spilling whatever information he had and met her smile with one of his own. “How about you take a long walk into the sunrise?”

She laughed once, then went stone sober. “I can think of a thousand ways to kill you that would be far more interesting than you are right now.

Damian leaned back into the chair. “But you won’t.” He bent his head, displaying the barely visible marks from her last bite. “You need my blood.”

“You’re right that I need blood, but you’re mistaken if you think it has to come from you.” She stared at him, wondering how much fear he was capable of hiding. “As Dominus, I have unlimited funds. Purchasing another comar would not be impossible.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “There would be questions.”

“And I would answer them by telling the Primoris Domus you ran from me
again
.” She smiled softly. “But we both know that would just be my way of covering up your death.”

Damian went still for a long moment. “I’m not going to help you hunt down Chrysabelle.”

This time Tatiana shrugged. “Then it’s a good thing you can provide me with blood or I’d have no need for you at all.” And in truth, she was done dealing with him for more than sustenance. There was little need for this aggravation now.

“I can get information out of him,” Octavian offered.

“Don’t bother. The comarré’s protector is dead.”

Damian’s eyes rounded slightly, but Octavian’s jaw dropped. “Malkolm?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe it.”

She pointed to the monitor. “It’s all over the kine news.” She rested her hands on the arms of the chair as she looked at her comar. “The one chance you had just disappeared.”

For the first time, genuine fear played through his gaze.

She nodded to Octavian. “Take him away.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

M
al came back together on Chrysabelle’s balcony, staying in the shadows so none of the security cameras would pick up his form and alert the crew downstairs. He wouldn’t hide his presence from them too much longer, but Chrysabelle’s desire to keep him to herself for a while gave him an undeniable thrill. Almost as much as her declaration of love, which had caused the voices to gag and retch. Screw them. They’d just have to learn to deal.

He smiled as he opened the French door and went inside. Smiling was such an odd thing for him. It had been centuries since he’d had a reason to. “Hi,” he whispered.

“Hi,” Chrysabelle whispered back, locking the master suite door behind her as she came in. “I told everyone I was going to take a long hot shower and not to disturb me. They don’t suspect a thing.”

“Are you sure?” He pointed at her clothes. “Or were you that dirty when you went outside?”