The medical ward had finally grown quiet. Bain and Micah had left, the lycans were gone, and Argon and Rysk hovered near the nurses’ station, readying to depart.
It was just Drake with Ronan in his room.
“I’m sorry I screwed things up so badly between us,” Drake whispered, placing his hand on Ronan’s. “You deserved better than an ancient male too fucked in the head from his own suffering to be a proper father to you.”
He stood beside Ronan for a while, not speaking, eyes closed, just holding his son’s hand. He was too weary even to pray.
A knock on the door a few minutes later jarred him back to life.
He looked up to find Argon standing at the threshold. “Rysk and I are taking our leave for the day.”
“Fine.”
Argon remained. Obviously, he had more to say.
“You should come with us.”
Drake shook his head. “No.”
Argon sighed as if he were trying to reason with a two-year-old. “Drake, you need to rest.”
“This is my son. I’m not leaving.”
Argon glanced between father and son then gave a reluctant nod. “Perhaps just knowing you’re here will give Ronan a bit of comfort.”
Drake snorted. “Not likely, given his animosity toward me.”
Argon tilted his head sympathetically. “Then why stay?”
“Because it gives me comfort.”
Argon’s expression softened into one of sad understanding. “I see. Well . . .” He gave a nod of farewell. “Rysk and I will return this evening and see you then. We have much planning to do and need to start soon.”
Drake nodded and lifted his hand in a half-assed wave good-bye.
After they left, he pulled the cushioned chair to the side of Ronan’s bed, settled into it, and watched his son sleep.
His son.
A son he barely knew.
A son who hated him.
But a son he loved more than life itself.
Micah sat on the couch, an ice pack on his head. Servants worked to clean up the last of his spilled drink, and the pack of smelling salts they’d used to rouse him lay abandoned on the corner of the table.
“Drink this.” Bain thrust a glass of water toward him.
He took the glass and drained the contents. He still felt on the verge of passing out again, but he willed himself to stay conscious. He really needed this night to end so the roller-coaster ride could stop.
“How do you feel?” Bain sat down beside him.
“That’s a stupid question. How do you think I feel?” He was beyond caring that he was talking to the king. Then again, Bain wasn’t just his king. He was Micah’s cousin. A distant cousin, but family. He was entitled to speak informally to family, wasn’t he?
Bain waited for the servants to leave his study and close the door behind them before speaking again.
“I know it’s all a bit overwhelming, Micah, but you need to know your history, and we’ve run out of time for me to feed this to you bite by bite.” The king pulled the book containing his family tree into his lap, angling it so Micah could see it better.
“Get that goddamn thing away from me.” Micah looked away from it.
“There’s more, Micah, and you—”
“More?” Micah tossed him an incredulous look. “You mean my life hasn’t been fucked up enough tonight, so why not fuck it up some more?” Then Bain’s words registered, bringing him to a standstill, and he cast a wary sidelong glance toward his cousin. “What do you mean, we’ve run out of time?”
Bain held up his hand, beseeching him for patience. “First things first, and then I’ll get to that.” He opened the book back to Argon’s family tree. “So, let me explain our history, starting with Argon and Cato. Argon was the first ruler of the drecks. He was best friends with our ancestor, King Cato, the first king of the vampires. Back then, our two races got along.”
Micah sensed this was going to be a long story, so he settled in, holding the ice pack against the back of his head and keeping his mouth shut.
“Argon had a daughter named Abrial, who was promised to Teo, the son of a wealthy dreck in Argon’s inner circle. Unfortunately, Cato’s son, Rysk the First, formed a mating bond to Abrial. King Cato pleaded with Argon to dissolve the arrangement between Abrial and Teo so that Rysk the First could claim his rightful mate, but Argon refused.
“You see, Argon was in a bad position. If he broke his promise to Teo’s family, they would have decried his leadership and led a coup against him. That’s how powerful Teo’s family was. Probably one of the most powerful families of the dreck race. But by honoring his promise to Teo’s family and denying Cato, Argon stacked the cards against himself on all fronts.
“Denied his mate, Rysk the First fell into an agonizing suffering. He was locked away and would have certainly died, but his suffering gave him tremendous strength, and he broke free of his confinement and fled to Abrial. His intent was to claim her and make her his mate.” Bain raised his index finger and pointedly angled his head for emphasis. “Oh, and I should add that Abrial wanted this. She was as much in love with Rysk as he was with her.”
Micah shrugged. “Then what was the problem?”
“Teo. He didn’t care that Abrial didn’t love him. All that mattered to him and his family was that she was the premier’s daughter. She was royalty, and taking her as a mate gained him significant power among their people.
“He also knew that if Abrial and Rysk were to mate—a prince to a princess, as it were—that eventually the dreck race would fall under vampire rule.”
Rule. Interesting that Rysk the First’s son, Rysk the Second, had chosen the name Rule as his alias.
Micah set aside the ice pack and rubbed the bump on the back of his noggin. “I think I’m beginning to understand the source of the problem between our two races.”
Bain held up his hand. “Just wait. It gets worse. Upon finding Abrial locked away like a prisoner in Argon’s palace, Rysk ghosted in, rematerialized, and was about to steal her away when Teo showed up, armed and ready to kill Rysk to keep Abrial from escaping. A fight ensued, blood was drawn, and Rysk killed Teo. Then he stole Abrial away and satisfied the urgings of his calling.”
“Good for him,” Micah muttered.
“Not exactly.” Bain kept his gaze on the tome as if he could read their history from its pages. “Teo’s family demanded both retribution and retaliation. They wanted the couple hunted down and Rysk put to death. The situation grew even more dire as Argon found himself trapped between duty and friendship. Argon and Cato tried to find a diplomatic solution, but before they could, one of the hunting parties Teo’s father sent out found the mated pair and killed Rysk.
“Furious at the betrayal, and mourning the loss of his son, Cato ceased talks with Argon and sent an army to destroy what remained of Teo’s family in retaliation for killing his son, which he construed as an act of war. He kidnapped Abrial, refusing to release her until his grandson was born.
“Rysk the Second’s birth seemed to calm things for a while between our two races, but Argon’s sons continued to pressure him, mounting growing dissent against his continued alliance with Cato and the vampires, given all that had transpired.
“Eventually, the drecks overthrew Argon and inducted his oldest son, Tauno, as their new premier, sending Argon into exile, where he watched the growing conflict from a distance.
“Once Rysk the Second was born, Cato took custody of him, which sent Abrial into such despair she took her own life. A month later, all-out war erupted between the two races. A war that continues to play out today.”
Micah looked at Bain like there had to be more. That this war had to be about more than a love triangle gone wrong. “Are you telling me this war started because a dreck and a vampire loved each other?”
Bain shrugged one shoulder. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”
“Jesus, that’s fucked up.”
The two sat in silence for a moment, and then realization began to sink in, which led to understanding, and finally to awareness. Micah raked his hands through his hair then flung his arms forward. Not only did he carry dreck blood in his veins, but royal dreck blood. And not only did he carry royal dreck blood, but royal vampire blood, as well.
Which meant . . .
He bowed his head and cursed under his breath.
He was royalty. He was motherfucking, goddamn royalty. Not just on the dreck side, but on the vampire side, too.
This was shit news, because Micah wasn’t one for royal entitlements and hoity-toity social dinners where you had to pretend to be polite and play by a set of ball-crushing etiquette rules. And a suit? Forget about it. Micah didn’t do suits. There were only a handful of people he would don a suit for, and a room full of fake-ass well-to-do vampires who put more clout in material wealth than personal substance didn’t make the list.
Still, now that he knew the truth of his lineage, factors of his own life were beginning to make more sense. He wasn’t a pure blood as he’d always thought. He was a mixed-blood. An extremely diluted mixed-blood, since it looked like the rest of his line was pure, but even a diluted mixed-blood could possess special abilities, such as the one that allowed him to see the thoughts of those around him without trying to infiltrate their minds. And now he knew why he could create young without having a calling. It was his dreck blood that had made him fertile and created the twins growing inside Sam’s belly this very second.
Micah recalled something Bain had said to him last month. He’d said he’d grown impatient and was ready for Micah to fill the role he’d always been meant to fill. Exactly what role was that? Prince? Duke? King-in-Training? Micah sure as hell wanted nothing to do with such aristocratic titles, nor the responsibilities they entailed.
Two hours ago, he might have been ready to stop enforcing and try on a normal job, but this wasn’t what he’d had in mind. The idea of sitting behind a desk all day rankled his nerves and made his skin itch.
The truth was, he was good at enforcing. He was a skilled killer and could track down the filthiest of criminals night after night without question. He just couldn’t take all the risk with no reward, anymore. There were too many rules enforcers had to follow, and many of those rules ran counter to others. And more inane rules were added every couple of months, thanks to Premier Royce’s incessant whining.
At least now they knew what all his bitching had been about? Diversion.
The point was, working as an enforcer wasn’t fulfilling, anymore. There were too many asses that needed to be kissed and dicks to be sucked to get anything done. Every night felt more like a bend-over-and-take-it-up-the-ass than any kind of progress in the ongoing enforcement of the peace that seemed to be slipping away at an accelerating rate between the vampires and drecks.
Who wanted to keep doing a job that set you back at the starting line—or even farther and farther behind it—each night you geared up and hit the streets?
Only one thing was worse. Becoming a politician. And that’s exactly what a royal title would make him.
Nothing sucked a male’s nut sack more deeply into a vacuum than pushing a pencil into his hand and making him glad-hand other politicians. Micah was too fond of his balls to lose them to such a fate, so if King Bain wanted him to wear the royal insignia and be a figurehead for peaceful negotiations, he could stuff that shit up his ass.
Put Micah into a room with a dreck like Premier Royce, and peaceful was the last adjective anyone would use to describe the encounter. He would just as soon give Royce a nose job with the heel of his boot than pretend that fucker was concerned with keeping up good race relations with vampires.
If it was one thing Micah was sure of, it was that Royce had his hand in every bad situation affecting vampires, from cobalt to Bishop’s lab experiments to the damage done to that half-lycan youth, Savill, who was still recovering inside the AKM trauma unit. That poor kid had been cut open from neck to groin like a frog cadaver in high school biology class.
So yeah, Micah had seen too much blood and death in the streets to keep a level head in any kind of royal capacity.
As Micah stewed over what this new information meant for his future, Bain continued going through their family tree, explaining their history and pointing out key relationships.
“Premier Royce descended from Tauno’s line. He and those of Teo’s family who survived Cato’s attack ended up forming tight alliances that have endured even to today. So tight, in fact, that members of Teo’s family could almost be part of the ruling family.” Bain dragged his finger down the page and stopped on three names.
Micah peered closer, a fresh wave of shock hitting him at what he saw. “Bishop, Apostle, and Deacon?”
“Teo would have been their great-great-great-uncle.”
So many of the questions Micah had asked himself for so long now found answers. The reason why Premier Royce never punished Bishop for the obvious crimes he’d committed in breach of the truce was because, to Royce, Bishop was as close to family as you could get without actually sharing genes. And Apostle’s hatred of vampires had obviously been passed down from four generations of animosity before him.
How ironic that Apostle was the dreck Micah had sought out to end his life before he met Sam. That was some fucked-up karmic voodoo right there.
“If you knew who I was—that I was your cousin, royalty, and all that shit—why didn’t you or anyone interfere when I tried to get myself killed last winter?”
“Someone was about to step in when Sam showed up and saved you, instead. And your friend Trace was there, too. My people would have only interfered if it looked like there were no other options. We didn’t think you would actually go through with it.”
Micah gave a dubious snort. “You underestimated me then.”
“And yet, here you are. Alive and well.”
Micah couldn’t argue with that.
“How did Rysk the Second come to be with Argon if Argon was in exile?”
The grin that spread over Bain’s face was one of admiration. He obviously held a lot of respect for Argon.
“Just because Argon was in exile didn’t mean he remained there. He kept watch. He stood vigil over what was happening to his people. He followed them. And he kept tabs on his grandson. During one particularly bloody battle, he stole into Cato’s palace and rescued Rysk from certain death. He was still just a boy, and Argon took him to safety and protected him. Everyone thought Rysk had died, and Argon knew making people believe that he had died was for the best. He knew that if anyone, whether vampire or dreck, learned that the son of Rysk the First and Abrial was alive, he would be a target. No one wanted to see a bastard mixed-blood rise to the role of ruler over both races, and that was Rysk’s destiny.”
Micah was beginning to get a bad feeling about what all this meant for his own future and that of Sam and his unborn children.
He glanced down at the list of names between his and Rysk’s. “And what of all these descendants?”
Bain couldn’t hide the grim worry that overtook his face. “Dead.”
“How?”
“Until recently, they’ve been under royal protection, but someone has learned who they are and where to find them. One by one, the families are being slaughtered.”
“My grandfather? Durin?”
Bain sadly closed his eyes and gave a single nod. “He was found dead just a few weeks ago. The only ones who remain are Argon, Rysk, your father, your brother, you, and your uncle Rory.”
“My uncle is still alive?” This was too much. Micah’s entire world had blown wide open in less than eight hours, and if his spill into unconsciousness a while ago was any indication, his plate was already too full to process anything else.
“Yes, he’s alive. We’re bringing him here. He’ll be safer in Chicago now that the secret’s out that Rysk’s line lives.”
Looked like Micah could expect to have one, big, not-so-happy family reunion in Chicago soon. Not that he wasn’t looking forward to seeing his uncle Rory, but they weren’t exactly meeting again under the best of circumstances. Their ancestors were being murdered, mutant werewolves—motleys—were hunting them down, and it looked like the drecks and Dacians were in league with one another to wage a new kind of war.
Maybe to humans it was just another day in the big city, but to Micah, it felt more like the end of the world.
“How are they finding us?” he asked.
“My bet is there’s a mole inside AKM or even on my staff. Someone who’s able to find the information and feed it back to Royce and Searcy.”
Strange that Micah knew just about everyone at AKM and had never caught a random thought that would give away a traitorous mole. That didn’t mean someone couldn’t hide his or her thoughts from him, though. People who knew of his mindreading talents could mask their thoughts the same way Argon’s female cohort, Sonia, did.
“What are you doing to sniff out the mole?”
Bain settled back on the couch, the book still open in his lap. “There’s a countermole inside AKM working to find the leak.”
“Who?”
“Sonia.”
“Argon’s Sonia?” Speak of the devil. “I’ve never seen her around—”
“You know her better as Eva.”
“Eva?” No way. The mousy file clerk whose wardrobe seemed more appropriate for an I-Love-the-Eighties revival was actually the fiery-spirited Sonia?
Eva hardly said a word to anyone, held herself like she was trying to leave the smallest possible carbon footprint known to mankind, and seemed unable to look anyone in the eye.
That was the exact opposite of the female he’d come to know as Sonia, who was brash, sassy, and looked you so hard in the eye you thought she could see straight down to the contents in your stomach. He had to give it to that female, she’d created one helluva disguise.
“But Sonia is a dreck.”
“A friendly dreck,” Bain emphasized. “And she’s a master at masking her scent, among other things. Her father was a brilliant scientist who wanted nothing of Royce’s new war, so Royce had him killed. What he neglected to realize was that Sonia is even more brilliant and cunning than her father. She’s taken his research and inventions and made them better. We’re fortunate to have her on our side.”
Shifting gears, Micah asked, “How long have you known Argon was alive?”
“Not long.” Bain sighed. “Oh, I’d heard rumors that he was alive, and since his body was never found, there were plenty of rumors to go around, but until he reached out to me a few days ago, I had assumed like everyone else that he’d perished.”
“Reached out?”
“He asked for a meeting.”
“And you agreed?” King Bain was what some would call excessively cautious. To meet with a dreck who claimed to be the first ruler of his race without more than just his word seemed like a risk Bain wouldn’t normally take. “Why?”
“He knew things only Argon would have known. And I sent someone to vet him. Someone I could trust to see inside his thoughts and decipher the truth. I told him it was the only way I’d meet with him.”
“Who’d you send? Cordray?” Because everyone knew how tight she was with the king.
Bain grinned. “I sent Tristan.”
“Tristan? But I thought he was still on house arrest.”
Bain shrugged indifferently. “I’m the king. I can occasionally bend the rules if I deem it necessary to the survival of the race. And since I’m the one who ordered him on house arrest, I’m the one who can end it.”
Micah cocked his head and gave his cousin a crooked grin. “Which begs the question, have you ended Tristan’s house arrest?”
“I think the real question you’re asking is whether you’re still in charge of his team.”
“Maybe.”
If Tristan was back on duty, it threw Micah’s role inside AKM into the realm of the unknown. If he was no longer in charge, would he go back to being a grunt? He didn’t want that. He’d gotten a taste of leadership, and he’d liked it. He was good at it.
One thing was certain. His dream of becoming a stay-at-home dad wasn’t going to happen. Not because he couldn’t force the issue and retire, but because with so much happening with Bishop, Searcy, the motleys, and their new alliance with the lycans, the race needed him to stay and fight. And, really, would he be able to chillax at home with his feet propped up on the ottoman and a beer in his hand when he knew the enemy was closing in, and when an assassin was hunting down his family line? Hell, no. He’d be on high alert twenty-four seven. His home would become a fort, and he would guard the doors and windows day and night, ready for an invasion. Which would drive Sam bonkers. She would end up begging him to return to AKM.
Bain leaned back into the corner of the couch, eyeing Micah as he spread his arms over the back of the cushions. “I have other plans for you, Micah.”
This sounded juicy. “What other plans?”
“We’ll get to that. Just know that I carefully vetted Argon, as well as Rysk and Sonia, before meeting with him. Not only did Tristan go through their minds and confirm everything Argon said as true, but I also had their blood tested. Both Argon’s and Rysk’s. Rysk is who he says he is. He’s our ancestor. Half his genes matched my line, and half matched Argon’s.”
That settled that. You couldn’t argue with a DNA test.
“It was Argon and Rysk who saved your father,” Bain added.
“Yes, he told me that they watched over him.”
“No, I mean, on the day your mother died. Argon and Rysk were the ones to find your father and keep him alive. From what they told me, Drake was in bad shape. He’d lost a lot of blood, as well as the will to live. Rysk forced your father to drink from him. They remained with him all day, keeping him from walking into the sun to end his life, and then fled with him to safety the following night. They almost lost him numerous times, because your dad wanted nothing but to die, but they eventually convinced him he had reason to live.”
Micah sat in stunned silence. His father hadn’t told him that part. That Argon and Rysk had been there.
“What were they doing in our village?”
“They tracked the dreck raiding party there, expecting the worst, that they’d lost both you and Drake. Thankfully, that didn’t happen.”
Micah thought about his mother and bowed his head. “A lot of other good people were lost that day, though.”
“I know.” Bain placed his hand on Micah’s shoulder. “Your mother was one of them. I’m sorry.”
Micah bit back his sadness before breathing in a full breath and straightening.
Bain released him. “I wasn’t even aware Drake survived. See?” He pointed to a notation in the family tree, showing Drake as being deceased. “Looks like I’ll have to update my records. I’ll need to add Ronan, as well.”
Micah reached over and tapped his own name. Sam’s had already been added beside it. “You’ll want to add two slots below my name, too.”
“Oh?” Bain’s brow rose in a severe, surprised arch. “Is Samantha . . .?”
For the first time since this conversation started, Micah smiled as feelings of love and awe rose inside him. His chest and shoulders lifted proudly. “She’s pregnant. Twins.”
Bain chuckled and hoisted the book of records off his lap and plopped it onto Micah’s as he rose from the couch. “You’ve always been an overachiever, Micah.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve waited a long time to become a father, old friend.”
No truer words had ever been spoken. “So long I was beginning to think it would never happen.”
Bain grinned. “We must celebrate this good news.” He crossed to his bar and opened one of the cabinets, then pulled out what looked like a very old bottle of brandy. “When did you find out?”
“Actually, I just found out a few hours ago.”
Bain poured brandy into two snifters. He returned to the couch and handed one to Micah, lifting his in a toast. “To strong bloodlines and continuing the Black name. Congratulations, cousin.”
Micah clinked his glass to Bain’s then drank.
As Micah lowered his glass, his gaze fell back to his family tree. He browsed through the myriad of names as Bain took his seat beside him once more.
“We’re family, Micah,” Bain said. “And while the knowledge of our family connection was a coveted secret meant to protect you, it’s time for the truth to come out so you can take your rightful place among our race.”
His rightful place? There was that term again. A sinking feeling swallowed up his insides and plummeted toward his feet. He couldn’t do the royal thing. He wouldn’t. That was Bain’s realm. Micah’s was elsewhere.
“What place is that?” He wasn’t sure he was ready for the answer. Then again, would he ever be ready? Might as well keep ripping off Band-Aids until he had no skin left.
Bain raised his hand. “We’ll get to that. We’re not quite finished here, yet.”
Micah’s gaze scanned the cursive swirls that filled the page. “You mean there’s more?” He couldn’t imagine any more family secrets existed after all he’d already been told.
Bain nodded toward the book. “Take another look.”
Frowning, Micah ran his gaze over the names. What was it Bain wanted him to see? He ran through the names of his line twice, finding nothing extraordinary.
“I don’t understand. I’m not finding—”
“Not at your line,” Bain said. “Look at mine.”
Micah turned his attention back to King Bain the First and followed the line down. Ryland, Bain the First, Bain the Second . . .
Wait, what?
He scanned back up. There was a branch off to the side of Bain the First’s name.
His head shot up, eyes wide.
The dead calm of Bain’s demeanor slammed into Micah like a sword slicing through bone.
“Is this right?”
Bain tilted his head, one brow arching. “Recorded by my own hand from that of my father’s.”
He glanced back down at the book and blinked in disbelief at Cordray’s name beside Bain’s. But her name lay under the name of a female who hadn’t been Bain the First’s queen.
“Your father had an affair?” Micah refused to believe it.
How was this even possible? Bain the First had sired young with two females? Had both been mates? Or, like him, had Bain the First been able to father a child without experiencing a calling? If so, which offspring was from his true mate, and which was a miracle?
“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 as 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.
Now Micah was intrigued. “Not part of AKM?”
“No. The team I want you to lead would be a highly specialized black ops team.”
“Black ops? You mean—”
“One that doesn’t follow the rules.” Bain’s weighty gaze held his as if silently asking if Micah understood what he meant by not following the rules. “Among other things.”
“Are you saying you want this team to operate outside the terms of the truce?”
Bain gave him a small half smile of affirmation. “I know Royce isn’t lifting a finger to help fight the cobalt issue because he secretly has a hand in it. The way I see it, if he’s going to subvert the terms of peace between our two races, the best countermeasure is for me to do the same.”
This was what Micah wanted. The freedom to do whatever it took to bring down the forces working to destroy their people. No rules binding his hands. Nothing to prevent him from enacting his own brand of justice against repeat offenders. Drecks who had been arrested over and over only to be back out on the street in weeks, dealing their blue poison to vampires who would overdose and lose their lives to an addiction manufactured by Royce and Bishop in an effort to chip away the vampire race’s power.
The possibilities and opportunities to actually make a difference were limitless, and Micah couldn’t deny his excitement.
In a blink, Bain’s offer had changed his entire outlook.
“How far outside the terms of the truce would I be allowed to act?” he asked.
“As far as is necessary.”
“And you would turn a blind eye?”
Bain settled his joined hands in his lap and tilted his head in a way that made Micah think he was more of a conspiring partner, not the king. “You’ll have complete autonomy over the team and its activities. All I ask is that you report directly to me and keep me informed of the team’s operations so I’m not caught off guard when Royce comes at me with accusations and complaints of bloodshed against his people.”
“And when he does . . .?”
A sickly-sweet smile spread over Bain’s mouth. “I’ll inform him I have no knowledge of any such attacks and will promise to put my best men into investigating his claims, just as he’s done to me.”
“You would lie?”
“In a heartbeat.”
Micah could get used to this new side of King Bain. “And by best men, I assume you’re referring to—”
“You and this new team you will create.”
Micah was liking this idea more and more. “In other words, you won’t look into his claims at all.”
“Exactly.” Bain crossed one ankle over the other and gripped the edge of his desk on either side of his hips. “Micah, I want a team that can strike at the heart of both Searcy’s and Royce’s undertakings. If they’re building a genetically modified werewolf army, I want to counterstrike against them. Hard.” He lifted one hand, curling it into a fist as determination burned in his eyes. “I want to hit the heart of those bastards without them seeing it coming. Do you think you can do that?”
Could he do that? That was like asking if a bear could bite off the head of a salmon in one chomp.
“I have no doubt.”
Bain nodded approvingly. “You’ll be free to use whatever means necessary, but I want no ties back to me.”
“How would you suggest I do that?” The simple fact he was even asking the question was enough to alert Micah that his acceptance of this new opportunity was a foregone conclusion. He hadn’t even agreed to take the job, and yet he had.
Bain eyed him the way a hunter eyes a deer when it enters a clearing. “You’ll come up with something. You always do.” He pushed off his desk and rounded it, returning to his chair. The leather wheezed as he dropped his weight into it. “And I want you to put tabs on my liaisons. Particularly Ulrich Fenton and Gregos Savakis.”
“Ari’s father?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Bain’s jaw worked like he was clenching and unclenching it. “Call it a hunch, but they’re up to something. I need to know what.”
“Do you think they’re conspiring against you?”
Bain’s eyes met his, and Micah could see the answer in his gaze before Bain said, “Yes.”
Whoa. Arion’s father was under suspicion for treason. That was some heavy shit.
“Do you think Arion’s involved?” Highly unlikely, but the question warranted asking.
Bain shook his head decisively. “No. Gregos disowned Ari. He wouldn’t have done that if Ari were involved.” He tipped his head contemplatively as one corner of his mouth turned up. “Maybe Ari wouldn’t mind giving us a hand.”
That wasn’t a bad idea. “I’ll look into it.”
Silence fell over them as Micah mulled over all that Bain had asked of him. Crown regent? Leader of a new black ops team? Spy? These were big decisions. Ones he didn’t want to make until he’d talked to Sam. She needed to have a voice in this, especially now that she was pregnant and he’d told her he wanted to quit his job to be a full-time family guy.
But that had been before Bain had offered him the greatest gift on earth. The ability to do his job without having to worry about the rules. Not that Micah would abuse that power, but it would be nice to kick off the shackles and face the enemy on an even playing field for once. He felt like he’d been doing his job with one hand tied behind his back and one leg in a brace for decades.
“Would you build the team or would I?” Micah asked.
“You will, but I would like some input.”
In other words, Bain wanted Cordray on the team. Fine. She had talents he could use, just as long as she understood who was in charge.
“I’m assuming you’ll bankroll anything I need to get the team operational?”
“Yes.”
“Complete autonomy?”
Bain issued him a slow, sincere nod. “One hundred percent. I will not interfere beyond providing input I think could help.”
“And the lycans?”
“What about them?”
“Would my team be expected to work with them?”
Bain took a moment to consider his answer. “Yes. With the new information we were given tonight, I think your team would make the perfect point of contact for them. It might even be wise to consider adding a lycan or two to the team, as long as Memnon approves.”
Micah curled his lip.
Bain held up his hand, nodding patiently. “I know, Micah. You don’t like them. But I can tell you respect what they did tonight . . . saving your brother’s life. Focus on that. They’re our allies now, and they did us a solid. If we’ve added mutant werewolves to our list of enemies, having a couple of lycans around could be beneficial, especially for training purposes. I just want you to consider it.”
Bain made good points. He would take that into consideration when—if—he decided to accept Bain’s offer. It was pretty much a foregone conclusion he would, but Sam needed to give her stamp of approval first.
“When do you need an answer?” he asked.
“When can you give me one?”
Once he got home, he would pull Sam aside. He didn’t think it would take long to get her on board. One thing he could always count on from her was support.
“Tomorrow night?”
“I’ll look forward to hearing from you then.” Bain grabbed a notecard bearing the royal seal and quickly jotted down a pair of phone numbers. “This is my direct line. Only my liaisons use this, but now you can, too.” He pointed to his other number. “This is my residence. No one but my family and closest friends have this number.”
Micah tucked the card into his back pocket. “You have friends?”
Bain gave him an eat-shit grin and stood. “A couple.”
Micah joined him and followed him out.
When they reached the main entrance of the mansion, Bain held out his hand.
Micah clasped it with his own.
Then Bain pulled him into a one-armed hug, patted him on the back, gave one final squeeze, and released him. “Welcome to the family, Micah.”
Family. The word held new meaning for him now.
He’d learned a lot tonight. Some of it troubled him, such as the knowledge that he possessed dreck blood and that ancestors he’d never known had been killed before he could even learn of their existence. Some of what he’d learned tonight even sickened him, such as learning Cordray was his—ew!—cousin. And some of it excited him. That’s where the creation of the new black ops team came in.
It would take him a while to fully process his new reality, but two things were certain. He was no longer alone, and his life would never be the same.