“Vampire!”
“What is he doing here?”
“They are expanding their territory.”
“Mikhail Aristov is power-hungry. He won’t stop until he controls the entire West Coast.”
“He looks dangerous. His eyes are wild. Steer clear of him, or he’ll tear your throat out.”
Saeed tucked away his amusement as he sauntered down Summit Avenue and negotiated the crowded sidewalks of Capitol Hill. This particular district of Seattle was heavily populated with supernatural creatures, though none of them like Saeed. In his world, he wasn’t gawked at for the color of his skin, his features, or nationality. In the supernatural world, Saeed was a topic of conversation because of his dual fangs. His thirst for blood. The fact that he was only one of a handful of vampires to walk the earth. Perhaps prejudice was inescapable for him no matter who he kept company with.
For decades, the entire dhampir population—including Mikhail Aristov, the last vampire—had been confined to Los Angeles. But Mikhail’s ascension to power and his ability to turn dhampirs into vampires afforded their species the opportunity to wander farther from the epicenter of their population. Something they’d been unable to do for over two centuries. Their newfound freedom was bound to cause a stir.
It had been over a week since Saeed arrived in the city. He’d managed to rent a condo close to Capitol Hill, and every night was spent in search of the fire-haired fae. Dry heat scratched at the back of his throat. It wouldn’t be long, five days at the most, before his heart quit beating, lungs quit breathing, and his thirst became unbearable. Saeed refused to take any vein but his mate’s. No other’s blood would sate him.
If he didn’t find her soon, he might lose his mind completely.
The Collective pushed at Saeed’s consciousness. Voices called to him, distant memories entreating, seducing, begging him to join their company. Gods he was tempted. So far, he’d been unable to find the fae in the city, but he’d become astute at tracking her throughout the Collective. He could stay there forever, watch her, covet her. But never touch. Never taste. It would be the type of torture impossible to survive.
The tingle of magic drew Saeed’s attention as he walked past the open door of a dive bar. Goosebumps rose on his arms, and he brushed the sensation away as he stepped through the door and into the stuffy, crowded space. The air was hot. It weighed him down and seemed to coat his lungs. A fine sheen of sweat slicked his skin as he maneuvered his way past the crowds of humans and supernaturals alike and made his way to the bar.
For the benefit of the humans here, he could pass as mundane in this place. Whether or not he could pass as sane was yet to be seen.
Saeed bellied up to the bar. He asked the bartender for a glass of water and offered up a five dollar bill to temper the human’s disdain. Saeed rarely drank alcohol aside from the occasional glass of wine. It annoyed him that bars had become the central gathering places for those out at night. So pedestrian. So unimaginative. But if Saeed had any hope of finding the fae, he had no choice but to suck it up and linger in these carbon copy, crowded, stuffy hotspots.
“Not often you run into a vampire in the city. In fact, can’t say I’ve ever seen one in the flesh.”
Saeed sipped from the lip of his glass as he cast a sidelong glance toward the source of the gruff voice that spoke beside him. “You must not be very old then,” he remarked. “Because the world used to be peopled with vampires.”
“Europe maybe,” the male went on as though Saeed hadn’t spoken. He took a slow breath and determined the male was some sort of shifter. Maybe a werewolf. His scent was canine in nature. “Not in the states though.”
Obviously the male knew little of vampire history. Or anything for that matter. “And yet, here I am.” The myriad voices of the Collective whispered in Saeed’s ears. He muttered a curse under his breath. Commanded them to leave him be.
The shifter’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch as he studied Saeed closely. “Well, you’re the only one I’ve ever seen. Lots of talk about you around the city.”
“Really.” Saeed knew his presence in Seattle wouldn’t go unnoticed but that had been his hope. If he couldn’t find the fae, perhaps word of his presence would reach her and she would come to him.
“Yeah.” At least Saeed could count on the shifter to be easy to bait. “Somebody like you could make a killing here.”
Saeed turned to fully face the shifter. One brow arched curiously as he asked, “How so?”
The shifter’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. He brought his hand up to his throat and massaged the flesh there as though to guard it. A corner of Saeed’s mouth hitched in a half smile as the bitter tang of the shifter’s unease reached his nostrils. It was better the male feared Saeed. It would prompt him to be forthcoming with information without Saeed having to pry it from him later.
“I heard the rumors.” The shifter’s use of language was enough to make Saeed want to bite him and drink him dry. Good gods. “You’re out hunting every night. Killed a warlock last night after the bastard jumped you. Magic wielders, man.” He shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong,” the male added quickly. “Dude probably had it coming. My buddy Randy said the warlock wanted your blood for some dark shit. Ain’t no one gonna put up with that. But you’re getting a reputation. If you’re looking for work, might as well start at the top.”
Among those old enough to remember, Saeed already had quite the reputation. But to the ignorant pup standing before him, Saeed was considered formidable because he’d purportedly killed a warlock who’d attempted to attack him. This male had no idea who Saeed was or what he was capable of. If he did, he wouldn’t be so foolish as to stand here and run off at the mouth.
“And where is the top?” Saeed took another slow sip of ice water that did nothing to quench the burn in his throat. He’d be surprised if the shifter did little more than point him in the direction of a low-level crime ring. His chest tightened with impending disappointment. Tonight was likely to be a continued waste of his time.
The shifter leaned in close. The scent of his fear intensified and Saeed felt a small amount of respect for him that he’d get so close to Saeed’s fangs in order to share the secret. “Rinieri de Rege, man. You think warlocks are trouble? They got nothing on mages.”
The breath stalled in Saeed’s lungs. He’d never been afforded the opportunity to hear the mage’s name. What the Collective had offered him was frustratingly generic. A tease. Breadcrumbs in a dense forest he’d been forced to follow. And though the name had sent a shiver of anticipation down Saeed’s spine, it didn’t mean this Rinieri was the one he was looking for. Still, it was the most credible lead he’d gotten in a week. He let out a soft snort of amusement that the information would come from a brainless shifter.
“And where can I find this mage?” Saeed asked.
The shifter gave a nervous look around. “He owns a place over on Broadway East called Crimson. He’s there every night, the bastard thinks he’s pretty fucking special.”
Saeed pinned him with a calculating stare. If the male meant to intentionally mislead him or draw him into a trap, Saeed would hunt the son of a bitch down and end him. “Why share this information with me?” he asked. “I’ve done nothing to warrant the favor.”
The shifter shrugged. “Hey, I do you favor, maybe you do me a favor someday. Never a bad thing to have powerful friends. I’m Wes, by the way.”
He suspected the shifter wanted more than just a favor in return, though. More likely, he saw an opportunity to move himself up the food chain. Saeed would let him assume whatever the hell he wanted to as long as it got Saeed what he wanted. Nothing mattered more to him than the fae and he would do anything to find her.
Saeed reached into his pocket. He pulled out a money clip and took a hundred dollar bill from the fold and slid it across the bar to Wes. A satisfied smile curved the shifter’s lips as he palmed the bill and tucked it away. Saeed smiled wide in turn, making sure to showcase the wicked points of his dual fangs. He drew on his power, held the shifter’s gaze. “Tell me, Wes, are you being truthful with me?”
Wes’s eyes glazed over as Saeed compelled him. He gave a slow nod of his head. “I wouldn’t bullshit you,” he replied. “I don’t have a death wish.”
Saeed released his hold on the shifter’s mind. Wes let out a gust of breath and gave a violent shake of his head, giving Saeed a glimpse of his animal nature. He took a cautious step back as though putting a couple of extra feet between them would protect him from Saeed’s ability to compel him.
“Thank you for the information, Wes.” Saeed was anxious to get out of here and investigate this promising new lead. “If your information proves fruitful, I will indeed owe you a favor.” He turned and left without another word. Seattle was vast, but the supernatural community was relatively small. He had no doubt Wes would find him again and expect payment for services rendered. Whatever he asked would be well worth it if Saeed found his mate.
* * *
Every freaking night.
Cerys held in a frustrated sigh. Rin was a total attention whore, and he insisted on going out every night to soak up the fear-fueled accolades of those stupid enough to hang around. They sat in the VIP section at Crimson, as usual, with Rin front and center and Cerys hanging out in the back corner trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. She wasn’t interested in attention, didn’t want anyone’s simpering compliments. Honestly, she just wanted to go home and go to bed.
No such luck, Rin was on a roll tonight.
“Cerys! Come here.”
She rolled her eyes. When Rin had first enslaved her, she’d treated him with open hostility and welcomed his punishments. As the decades turned to centuries and centuries to millennia, they’d settled into a reluctant camaraderie. It did no good to fight him. Cerys’s only option had been to learn to tolerate him. Which, on nights like this, was hard enough.
The crowd of would-be worshipers parted as Cerys made her way to him. She wasn’t merely feared, she was reviled. Others were loath to touch her, worried the simplest contact would leave them bereft of their souls. If only it were that easy.
Rin clucked his tongue at Cerys’s grim expression. “Gods, have a drink, would you? You look like you’re at a damned funeral.”
Cerys pursed her lips. She was in a sour mood and no amount of alcohol was going to change that. “Haven’t you had your fill of adulation for one night?”
Rin’s robust laughter rang in her ears. Obviously he hadn’t. And as his bodyguard, she was required to stay by his side until he was ready to tap out for the night. He reached for the bottle of Tito’s and pulled it from the bucket of ice. He poured a shot and slid the glass across the table toward Cerys. His dark gaze leveled on her and his lips thinned. “Drink.”
A knot formed in the pit of Cerys’s stomach. His serious expression told her he wasn’t about to suffer her snarky attitude tonight. Her jaw clenched so hard her teeth ground. She snatched the glass from the tabletop and threw back her head as she downed the shot in a single swallow. “Happy?” she asked without an ounce of humor before slamming the glass back onto the tabletop.
Rin’s expression softened and he gave her a wan smile. “Sit with me,” he said. “I hate it when you skulk in the corner.”
Rin had made her an assassin. Skulking sort of came with the territory. She took a seat beside him and propped her legs up on the opposite chair before folding her arms across her chest. She’d sit with him, but she’d be damned if she looked like she enjoyed his company.
“You still look pissy.”
Cerys shrugged, unconcerned. “I’m hungry. And that makes me cranky.”
Rin snorted. “You’re always hungry.”
Cerys gave him a pointed look. “And whose fault is that?”
Rin looked away as though bored with the conversation. The absence of her soul left Cerys feeling perpetually empty. Hungry. If not for her supernatural metabolism she’d weigh five-hundred pounds by now. Food did little to fill the void. She’d tried alcohol centuries ago but all it managed to accomplish was to make her feel even emptier. So yeah, food was her vice. She stuffed her face, filled her stomach, and for a while it made her feel as though she were more than just an empty shell. Gods. She was a total shit show.
Rin brought his hand up into the air and snapped his fingers. A server rushed over from across the building and bent over Rin’s left shoulder. “Cerys is hungry,” he replied. “Have the kitchen whip her up something.”
The server, a sylph with long, wild blond hair turned her attention to Cerys. “Sure,” she said. “What do you feel like tonight?”
“A burger and fries will work.” What she really wanted was a hot fudge sundae but that wasn’t exactly bar food. “Can you bring me some mozzarella sticks too?”
“Can do,” the sylph said with a bright smile. “I’ll bring it out to you in a few.”
“There. I’ve fed you.” Rin seemed pretty damned pleased with his magnanimous gesture. “Now cheer the fuck up.”
Magnanimous, but never kind. Indulgent, but never selfless. He wasn’t suggesting that Cerys adjust her attitude. It was a command. One she’d best obey, or be prepared to face the consequences if she chose to blow him off. She sat up straight in her seat and unfolded her arms. Rin retrieved her discarded shot glass and poured another jigger of vodka before sliding it back to her once again. Cerys forced a pleasant smile to her face as she picked up the glass and brought it up in a silent toast before tipping it back and letting the liquor burn a path down her throat into her stomach. She knew what was expected of her. Knew how to play the game. And she knew all too well what would happen to her if she misbehaved.
While Cerys waited for her food, she made exhausting small talk with the members of Rin’s fan club that littered the private lounge. Out of respect for Rin, they were all friendly with her but beneath that façade Cerys tasted their fear and it nearly stole her appetite.
“Vampire!”
Cerys’s head whipped around toward the witch who’d issued the surprised word from behind her. She followed the female’s line of sight across the bar toward the entrance. Vampire? In Seattle? It had been centuries since Cerys had laid eyes on a vampire. For some unexplained reason, Rin had always kept the company of vampires. But after the race’s near annihilation, he’d found new acquaintances to entertain him. Cerys had found herself fascinated by vampires as well. She wondered if their thirst for blood rivaled the hunger she felt on a daily basis. She’d always sensed a kindred connection to vampires even though they couldn’t have been more different.
Cerys scanned the crowded bar for a glimpse of the creature that had caused such a stir. The curious murmurs reached Rin’s ears and he sat up a little straighter in his seat, his expression serious. “Where?”
Yes, where? Cerys forced herself to remain nonchalant when what she really wanted to do was launch herself from her chair and comb the bar herself. She’d heard the rumors. That the vampire king had come out of hiding and resurrected his race, but she’d paid the gossip little attention. It had little to do with her world as it was. But now that a vampire had come to their very door, Cerys couldn’t help but be intrigued.
Rin leaned back in his chair, angling his head toward the witch. “What have you heard?”
Her eyes went wide and an excited smile grew on her slender face. She was pleased as punch to have Rin’s full attention and eager to keep it. “The rumors have been circulating for days,” she said. “Of course I didn’t believe it at first, but now…”
Rin urged her on with a flourish of his hand. “Go on.”
She leaned in conspiratorially. “He’s mad.” A wild glint lit her eyes with the words. “And quite violent from what I’ve heard. He wanders the streets night after night muttering to himself and lashes out at anyone who dares to cross his path.”
“His name?” Rin ventured.
The witch worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “That I don’t know.” She leaned back in inch or two as though concerned she would stir Rin’s ire. “Others speculate that he’s old. Perhaps older even than Mikhail Aristov. A Saracen and quite a frightening specimen.”
Cerys’s heart raced in her chest. She glanced over at Rin, knowing the witch’s words would only serve to pique his interest more. A Saracen. The antiquated, and not altogether favorable term gave her pause. Supernaturals had a tendency to live in their pasts and that included their vocabularies. It indicated his heritage but hardly reflected the gods he’d worshipped. The witch wouldn’t have referred to him as such, however, if he hadn’t been incredibly old. Almost as old as Rin. And likely, just as threatening.
She scanned the crowd once again and near the entrance she spotted him. The familiar anticipation she’d felt earlier in the week danced over her skin and Cerys shivered. He was a male unlike any other. Magnificent. Flawless dark skin, dark flowing hair, eyes like midnight. He stood head and shoulders above most of the patrons there and every inch of him was defined with lean muscle. An aura of wildness surrounded him and his gaze remained unfocused as though his mind were a million miles away from this moment. If it were possible, the vast chasm in Cerys’s chest opened even wider, threatening to suck her very existence into oblivion.
He was soulless. As an enaid dwyn, she could see souls, and where his should have been there was a colorless void. Something tugged at her chest and she reached up to rub the sensation away. Already the two of them had something in common …
She’d been right that something was coming, and the vampire definitely looked like trouble.