Ian Gregor scowled as he looked out over the cloudy Seattle cityscape. He hated the fucking rain, it reminded him of home. Soggy, wet, dreary. Hopeless. It did nothing but send his already foul mood into a tailspin. If shit didn’t start going his way soon, he’d cut a swath of death and destruction that would make the black plague look mild in comparison.
“Did you find the mage?”
He kept his gaze cast straight ahead and out the window. Nothing less than good news was going to placate him now. And the gods have mercy on whoever dared to tell him anything other than what he wanted to hear.
“Oh yeah,” his cousin Gavin replied. “He’s not exactly hiding. In fact, he seems to like attention.”
At least something was going according to plan. He’d waited too long to have his revenge to let something as trivial as a fucking magic wielder get in his way. He never did anything without a backup plan and the mage’s slave was his.
“Well?” He did nothing to mask his agitated impatience. “Where the fuck is he?”
“The son of a bitch practically owns the city,” Gavin replied. “And he hasn’t made many friends. Everyone either hates or fears him.”
If not for the fact that Ian wanted the fae, he might’ve been able to form an advantageous alliance with the mage. Ian himself was either hated or feared and it did wonders in curtailing prospective attacks. At any rate, magic users made him twitchy as fuck. Ian relied on tangible strength, brute force, and a calculating mind. Magic couldn’t be seen, it couldn’t be measured, and it sure as hell couldn’t be trusted. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to use it to his advantage given the opportunity.
“You still haven’t told me where to find him.” This time Ian swiveled his chair around to look at his cousin. “I’m not interested in wasting any time.” He wanted out of this dreary gray city as soon as gods-damned possible.
“He’s got his hand in business ventures all over the city. No one knows where he lives, but he owns a club in Capitol Hill called Crimson. Seems to be where he spends most of his time.”
Ian would’ve much rather ambushed the mage in a private place. Males like him surrounded themselves with plenty of protection. Bodies to take bullets when the need arose. Ian didn’t want to start a war. At least, not another one. He’d wanted this to be a stealth mission. In and out, take the fae and use her to get what he really wanted. The one thing in this world that would take down that bastard Trenton McAlister and the Sortiari once and for all.
“And the fae?” Ian asked. “What about her?”
“She’s always at his side,” Gavin answered. “The rumor is she’s rarely out of his sight and he keeps her well protected.”
Ian didn’t expect anything less. If he possessed a creature as reportedly powerful as the fae, he’d keep her under lock and key as well. “It’s a complication,” he said. “But nothing we can’t manage.”
“There’s something else.”
Ian didn’t like the nervous quaver in Gavin’s voice. “What?” His own tone did nothing to mask his current sour mood.
“There’s a vampire in the city,” Gavin replied. “A male. It’s all anyone is talking about.”
Ian sat up a little straighter in his chair. If it was true, the bastards were getting bolder, venturing out of L.A. Like a pestilence, their numbers would continue to grow and they’d infect every corner of the world. Not if he had anything to do about it.
“We don’t have time to hunt,” Ian said. “But keep your ear to the ground. See if you can find out what he’s doing here. In the meantime, we’ll do a little reconnaissance, scope out this club and get a bead on the mage.”
“And after that?” Gavin asked.
Ian smiled. “Once we discover his weakness, we’ll steal his prize.”
“Works for me.”
And then, maybe, Ian might finally see his plans come to fruition.
“Good.” The rain picked up again in earnest, battering the windowpanes. Ian’s lip curled and he swiveled back around in his chair to look out the window. “Now get the fuck out and leave me alone.”
The sound of the hotel room door opening and closing behind Gavin faded off in the silence. The wind picked up and pushed the droplets of rain harder against the window like tiny missiles searching for a weak point to get inside. Thunder rolled, resounding in Ian’s chest with a deep rumble. The storm that raged outside encapsulated every dark emotion Ian felt. There was no room for anything else. His heart had turned to stone centuries ago.
Ian Gregor was everything the world thought of him and more. Ruthless. Heartless. Vengeful. Violent. And those who’d wronged him should be prepared to suffer.
Perhaps the mage’s pet would thank him for taking her. After all, Ian knew all too well how tight the bonds of slavery could become, especially over the course of centuries. The Sortiari had shackled him, treated him no better than an animal, and in return had expected not only his gratitude but his obedience. Ian had sold them all into slavery. It was his greatest regret. And he had a dhampir child to thank for it.
For creatures so long-lived, the supernatural community often conveniently forgot their own mistakes and shame. And because of that, history was destined to repeat itself.
Ian could still hear their screams. It was a torture he would forever endure day after day, night after night until the end of time. For all of his strength, for all of his ruthlessness, for all of his prowess in battle and his calculating mind, Ian had been unable to save them. Every last female, gone. Any hope of continuing their race, decimated. Their numbers had been small enough that all it had taken was a sadistic vampire lord and his foolish child to ruin them. The pain of it was as fresh today as it had been over six hundred years ago.
The Sortiari had given Ian and his brethren not only the means, but permission to seek and satisfy their revenge. They would be lauded as tragic heroes, the right hand of Fate, respected and revered. As their leader, Ian had spoken for every berserker when he’d agreed to the Sortiari’s terms. A millennium of servitude seemed a small thing in comparison to the eternity of mourning they’d be forced to endure. Gods, how wrong he’d been.
They’d done the Sortiari’s bidding and in the course of annihilating the vampire race, they’d become monsters. More violent, more heartless, more ruthless than they’d ever been. Without their mates, their daughters to temper their battle rage, they’d become the stuff of nightmare. Under the disguise of a holy cloister, they’d murdered. Not heroes. Fate hadn’t given a shit about them or their plight. And neither had the Sortiari. They were tools. Guard dogs. Mindless killers.
Ian had had enough. If the supernatural world viewed them as monsters he’d show them just how truly terrifying they could be. He’d bring the Sortiari to the ground. Raze their organization. He’d kill the vampires starting with their mates one by one. And after that, the dhampirs. He wouldn’t stop until he found the female he was looking for. The one who’d, on a childish whim, given the command to murder every last berserker female. When he found her, she would suffer as no creature ever had. And when she finally begged him for the release of death, he would make her suffer even more.
Ian Gregor was a berserker warlord. And the supernatural world was about to feel the full force of his fury.
* * *
“You haven’t heard from Saeed at all?”
Sasha Ivanov kept her posture straight, her arms folded in her lap. Mikhail was an intimidating vampire, no doubt about it. But she was the mistress of the coven now—well, more to the point, a co-ruler—and it would not behoove her to be demure.
“Not a word,” she replied. It had been almost a month since Saeed had abandoned his coven and left to search for his mate. He’d fulfilled his promise to Mikhail by turning Sasha and Diego, another member of their coven, before relinquishing leadership to them and disappearing. Mikhail wasn’t any happier about the turn of events than Sasha was. It was what it was, and no amount of displeasure was going to change that fact.
“Do you have any idea where he’s gone?”
Again, Sasha met Mikhail’s intense blue eyes. The vampire king was well practiced at maintaining a passive expression. He gave nothing away. “Seattle, I think,” she said. “At least, that’s where he intended to begin his search.” What Sasha failed to tell Mikhail was that the king’s own ward, a human girl named Vanessa, had set Saeed upon his fool’s errand. The child was an oracle and had apparently predicted Saeed would go off in search of his mate. Hell, she’d pointed him in the right direction and practically pushed him out the door.
Mikhail opened his mouth to speak, and Sasha cut him off. “I respect your position not only as king, but as the father of the race.” It would do her no good to ruffle Mikhail’s feathers. She wanted them to work together, not against each other. “But Saeed made his wishes clear when he turned Diego and then me. If you try to insert one of your inner circle into our coven, it will only make matters worse.”
Mikhail’s brow furrowed. “I see your point, but both Ronan and Jenner have had time to adjust to the transition. It could take some of the pressure off of you both if—”
“No.” Each individual coven was its own unique ecosystem within the race. Inserting one of Mikhail’s own into a leadership role would disrupt the balance. “Diego is unusually self-possessed,” she said. “He has the control of a much older vampire.”
Mikhail cocked a curious brow. “And you?”
Sasha swallowed against the dry heat that burned in her throat. Her thirst still raged and she’d yet to reconcile with the absence of her soul. But those were both minor annoyances when compared to the well-being of their coven. She’d made a promise to Saeed that she would rule alongside Diego and nothing, not even her own king, would deter her.
“I’m fine,” she replied.
“Only fine?”
Sasha met his gaze head on. She didn’t look away, didn’t falter. “I am just as fit as anyone to rule.”
A quiet moment passed. Mikhail studied her as though he could see right through her to inspect each individual cell that constructed her and assess whether or not she was as capable as she claimed.
“You are the king, but this is my coven. Let me rule it as I see fit, and I will honor Saeed’s pledge of loyalty to you.”
A slow smile spread across Mikhail’s handsome face. “Mistress of a coven for less than a month and already you’re throwing your weight around.”
Damn right she was. “Would you expect anything less?”
“No,” Mikhail laughed. “I think your coven is in good hands.”
The rest of their meeting continued with slightly less formality. Once assured the coven’s loyalty would remain intact, his main concern was for Saeed’s safety. A sentiment Sasha shared in. She agreed to allow Jenner’s mate, Bria, to act as a liaison between Mikhail and their coven. She didn’t know much about the female other than she was smart and trustworthy. She served no interest save the well-being of the race. Besides, Sasha could use a listening ear if anything, to help her get a grip on the empty loneliness of her soulless state.
By the time she returned home, the sun was about to rise. The weariness of daytime sleep settled over her, weighing down her limbs and tugging at her eyelids. It’d been a long night and all she wanted to do was collapse into bed and find the peace of oblivion. She didn’t get much farther than the foyer before a warm, deep voice called out to her.
“It’s not good to go to bed on an empty stomach.”
A smile curved her lips as she turned to face Diego. The transition hadn’t turned him into a broody, angsty creature that would give any teenager a run for their money. He’d kept his sense of humor and his snarky wit, and for that Sasha was thankful. He had become the sun in her endless dark nights, and she appreciated him far more than he knew.
“I’m not,” she replied. “I had a grilled cheese earlier.”
He pursed his lips in a chiding expression. “You know what I mean. It’s been days. You need to feed.”
Had it been days? She’d sort of lost count. There was always so much to do, so many things that required her attention, that her own well-being had taken a backseat. “I’m fine.” That seemed to be her mantra of late. As long as she kept saying it, it would be true. “And it hasn’t been as long as you say it has.”
“I like how you think you can put one over on me,” Diego joked. “Like I’m not an observant motherfucker that knows everything that goes on under this roof.”
It was true, Diego didn’t miss a beat. He knew more than she did about the day-to-day goings-on, which was probably why Saeed had insisted they rule the coven together. “Really, I’m fine.”
“No,” he said as a matter of fact. “You’re not.”
Maybe she wasn’t as convincing as she’d thought. Her shoulders slumped as she walked back toward the foyer to Diego’s side. “Okay, so maybe I’m a little less than fine.”
“Oh, I know you are,” Diego assured her. “Which is why you’re going to let me feed you before you go and shut yourself up in your room for the rest of the day.”
“Not here.” She didn’t want to stand in the foyer like a kid who couldn’t wait to get into her Happy Meal as she glutted herself on Diego’s blood.
He gave her a soft, albeit knowing smile. “Not here,” he agreed. “Let’s go to the study.”
Sasha gave a nod of her head and fell into step behind him as they made their way down the hallway to the study that had once been Saeed’s office. She supposed now it was their office, though she rarely used the space. It felt wrong somehow, as though by usurping that room she had accepted that Saeed was never coming home.
She refused to believe that. Saeed would come home. He had to.
Once inside the study, Sasha collapsed on a nearby couch. She was exhausted both mentally and physically and the thirst that burned in her throat was downright distracting. Diego was right. She needed to feed.
He sat down beside her. She took in the refined features of his face. His dark skin, deep brown eyes, sharp cheekbones, the straight line of his nose. Her gaze traced the square, strong line of his jaw and downward to the column of his throat and the vein that pulsed there. Diego was strong. Handsome. Intelligent. Caring with a wonderful sense of humor. He was all of the things that made an ideal partner, and yet Sasha felt nothing for him. He wasn’t meant to tether her. It was no surprise, really. Her heart had always belonged to Saeed.
Diego offered her his wrist. She reached out and gently guided his arm back to his side. With her other hand she cradled the back of his neck and turned his head to expose the vein in his throat to her. Since her transformation, she’d felt so empty. So lost. The absence of her soul weighed on her, and at the same time she found it difficult to muster the energy to care. She craved some small measure of intimacy. A connection to another creature, no matter how fleeting. Her fangs throbbed in her gums as she lowered her mouth to Diego’s throat. She nuzzled the cool, smooth flesh and he stiffened beside her.
Perhaps she was too close for comfort. He didn’t stop her however, didn’t say a single word. Her fangs broke the flesh and he relaxed, melting against her. She reached up and gripped his shoulder with her free hand as she took deep pulls with her mouth. His blood, warm and sweet, flowed over her tongue and she let out an indulgent moan. Diego would replenish her strength, but he wasn’t meant for her. Sasha wondered as she fed, would she ever find the one who would make her heart whole? Or was she destined to feel empty and alone for the remainder of her existence?