“For how much longer are you going to give that piece-of-shit vampire, Saeed, quarter?”
Ian Gregor’s gaze slid to the side for the barest moment. Gavin, his cousin and second in command, shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat of the beat-up Subaru they’d stolen a few months ago. Ian hated to be questioned. He expected those under his command to do two things: keep their mouths shut, and obey. He demanded unwavering loyalty.
“As gods-damned long as I want to,” he barked. “You have a problem with that?”
Gavin cleared his throat. “No.”
“Good.” Ian’s gaze narrowed as a sleek Audi R8 pulled into the driveway. Fucking vampires and dhampirs never did waste an opportunity to flaunt their wealth. They were frivolous, extravagant creatures. Self-serving and vain. The world would be a better place without them in it. And Ian planned to make sure not a single one of them survived to populate the earth.
A female exited the car and headed toward the house. Vampire. Another one of Mikhail’s fledglings? He couldn’t help but wonder to which coven she belonged. She could be one of Saeed’s, but Ian wouldn’t put it past the vampire king to be populating L.A.’s thirteen covens with as many new vampires as possible. Fortifying their ranks and building their strength one abomination at a time. Gregor rolled down his window and inhaled deeply to commit her scent to memory. His brow furrowed. Another scent mingled with hers. Reminiscent of one of Ian’s own. Interesting …
Who was she? Newly turned, that much was certain. Then again, weren’t they all? Fledglings created as a result of Mikhail Aristov’s ascension to power. Ian’s lip curled. Only one other creature plagued his existence more than the supposedly “unkillable” father of the resurrected vampire race. If things went according to plan, all of the thorns in Ian’s side would soon be removed. Permanently.
At least one vampire had the good sense not to break faith with a berserker. Several months ago, Ian had been in Seattle searching for a particular fae. An enaid dwyn. A soul thief. This particular one was the slave of a crafty mage by the name of Rinieri de Rege. Ian’s plan had been to take the mage hostage and use his slave as bait to lure his true target out of hiding. His strategy had been thwarted, however, when he learned that a vampire, Saeed Almasi, had also gone to Seattle in search of the same fae.
Ian let out a disgusted snort. Vampires were ruled by their insufferable mate bonds. Tethers as they called them. It overrode common sense and reason. It was their greatest flaw and at the same time, their greatest strength. Saeed’s tether with the soul thief had changed the course of Ian’s plans, though thank the gods, it hadn’t completely derailed them. He’d helped to free the fae’s soul from slavery and in return, Saeed had agreed to bring his mate back to Los Angeles. Close to Trenton McAlister and right where Ian wanted her.
The vampire was upwind of him and Ian took another deep breath and held it in his lungs. Her scent confused him. Desire, fear, excitement, adrenaline … it was both sour and sweet. He couldn’t wait to find out what the fuck had happened tonight. And he would find out. Secrets never stayed hidden for long. Ian always discovered the truth.
Gavin glanced Ian’s way. “Do you smell that?”
“Aye.” Ian wasn’t about to divulge his thoughts on the matter. He played everything close to the hip. He had no confidants. No one he trusted implicitly. Trust was a luxury Ian Gregor couldn’t afford.
“What do you make of it?”
Ian shrugged. “Not a thing. Yet.”
Gavin sighed. Ian didn’t give a single shit if the male was put out.
“What if the soul thief’s sister never shows? She might not ever come out of hiding.”
It was a possibility Ian hadn’t discounted. Yet, some instinct urged otherwise. Fear could be a hell of a motivator. And with her sister free and in the same city of the mage she’d betrayed, Ian was banking on that knowledge to be enough to coax Fiona Bane out of hiding.
“She’ll show.” His faith was solid.
“Yeah,” Gavin snorted. “But when? Five years from now?”
“I don’t give a fuck if it’s five hundred years from now,” Ian snapped. His patience, like his faith, had no end. He’d wait till the end of the gods-damned world to have his revenge if he had to.
He was answered with another long-suffering sigh. Gods, was there no end to the melodrama? “All right. But you can’t possibly think she’ll waltz right up to the front door.”
Ian had considered the possibility that if Fiona had come to L.A., she’d be keeping a low profile. No use in alerting those she’d wronged to her presence in the city. Especially if she expected retribution. Still … the sense of instinct that tugged at Ian’s gut told him otherwise. Somehow, he knew Fiona would seek out her sister. And eventually, Trenton McAlister as well.
“I’m keeping my enemies close.” Gavin didn’t need any more explanation than that. “Only a fool turns his back on those who mean to do him harm.”
Gavin chuckled. “Amen to that.”
Ian knew some of the members of his clan had grown weary of the fight. Their memories dimmed with the passing centuries, but not Ian’s. His need for vengeance burned as hot and bright today as it had when their females had been slaughtered. He’d heard the whisperings of his brethren over the years. Felt the weight of their doubt and exhaustion. Some considered the debt paid. A mad vampire and his dhampir child had exacted first blood. The berserkers had paid it back ten-fold as they’d annihilated the vampires for the Sortiari. They were even. Blood for blood. So what if a few of them survived? Who cared if they replenished their numbers?
Ian cared. And as long as that need for retribution burned within him, that’s all that mattered.
A momentary swath of light cut like a blade through the darkness as the vampire opened the front door and disappeared inside the house. Ian relaxed into the seat and wound his fists around the battered steering wheel as he let out a slow breath. A tingle of trepidation raced down his spine. Change was coming, and whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good.
He turned the key in the ignition and the engine reluctantly sparked to life. The car was a total piece of shit. Time to ditch it and steal something a little more reliable. The rest of the supernatural community might have liked to flaunt their wealth, but every last cent Ian had managed to collect over the years was already spent. Dedicated to the cause. Whether or not everyone agreed on the allocation of those funds was another matter. One on a long list of things Ian didn’t give two fucks about. He was in charge. He made the rules. Those who chose to disobey or express a differing opinion could prepare to suffer the consequences.
Ian Gregor didn’t take betrayal lightly.
The sun would be up soon and there was no use watching the house when all of the vampires inside would be dead to the world until sunset. Gods, the temptation to ambush them when they were weak and slaughter them all was almost too great to resist. But for now he needed this coven alive and intact. At least, until he got what he wanted. After that, he’d run a stake through every single one of their hearts and raze the sophisticated mansion to its foundation.
“I take it we’re done for the night?”
Ian glanced Gavin’s way. “Not quite.” There was no rest for the wicked and Ian’s black heart was the wickedest. “We have a couple of stops to make before we head for downtown. I want to be at McAlister’s shitty office, waiting, before the bastard shows up for the day.”
It had been a while since Ian had rattled Trenton McAlister’s chain. The director of the Sortiari had received a nice reprieve and Ian needed to make his presence known. If anything, to remind the director that he was still alive for no other reason than Ian willed it so.
Gavin fumbled for the lever beside him and released his seatback to let it recline. “Well, if this is the only rest I’m going to get tonight, I’d better take advantage of it while I can.”
Ian snorted. Gods. When had they gotten so soft? Doing the Sortiari’s bidding had made them compliant it seemed. Perhaps it was time to remind those in his ranks exactly what they were and what was expected of them.
* * *
“You have a lot of nerve showing up here.”
Nerve had nothing to do with it. A wide grin split Ian’s lips at the director of the Sortiari’s outraged tone. Ian had Trenton McAlister by the balls and the bastard knew it. He settled into a chair that faced the director’s desk and propped his feet up on the polished surface. McAlister’s steely gaze dipped briefly to Ian’s feet and his lips thinned. Gods, how Ian loved to ruffle his sanctimonious feathers. McAlister’s attention moved from Ian’s offensive feet, to the door of his office. A large shadow passed in front of the open space and Ian bristled.
Fucking Caden Mitchell.
The bear shifter was so damned big he took up the entire space. Ian had hoped the son of a bitch had headed back to his multimillion-dollar estate in upstate New York. Unfortunately, it looked as though the male was going to be hanging around for a while. A couple of years ago, Caden had caught Ian off guard and delivered a sound ass-beating. The memory of it still stung. It wouldn’t happen again.
“Don’t be shy, Mitchell,” Ian drawled without taking his gaze from McAlister’s. “Come in and have a chat, yeah?”
McAlister’s gaze narrowed. He inclined his head, giving the shifter permission to come in. Ian snorted. For all of his strength, money, power, and clout, the mighty Caden Mitchell was nothing more than another one of the Sortiari’s slaves.
Pathetic.
Caden stepped deeper into the office. Besides taking up all the space, the big bastard also took up most of the breathable air. Ian’s hackles rose and a low growl gathered in his chest as the shifter came closer. He wasn’t here to start a fight. Or to finish one. He needed to keep his temper in check and his hunger for violence at bay.
“I thought I needed your oracle.” There was no point in mincing words. McAlister knew exactly what Ian was talking about. “I was wrong.”
Ever since Mikhail Aristov had found his mate, McAlister had been obsessed with a human girl who had fallen under the vampire king’s protection. It had taken a while for Ian to figure out exactly what her worth to McAlister was, and he’d found out several months ago, when he’d tried to ambush a meeting between Mikhail Aristov and McAlister in which the girl was present. Thanks to a stubborn Alpha werewolf and Caden Mitchell’s interference, Ian had missed his chance to snatch the girl. It hadn’t mattered, though. He’d heard enough of her conversation with McAlister to point him in the direction he needed to go. She’d sent him to Seattle. To the soul thief. And that’s why Ian was in McAlister’s office today. To put a little fear into the smug bastard.
McAlister didn’t utter so much as a word and that was totally fine with Ian. He’d planned on this being a mostly one-sided conversation. “A little hard to make out her riddles, but I figured it out eventually. Seattle is a promising city. Full of all sorts of interesting supernatural creatures. Shifters, werewolves, bean sidhes.” Ian grinned. “Mages … enaid dwyn…”
The director’s eyes widened the barest fraction of an inch but it was as good as a disbelieving gape. Ian chuckled. Getting a rise out of him was considerably more entertaining than he thought it would be.
“I’d always thought soul thieves were a myth,” he mused. “This one, though…” Ian let out a low whistle. “She was something else. Powerful. Hell, she scared the fuck out of me.”
McAlister’s heartbeat kicked into high gear. Music to Ian’s ears. His scent soured with anxiety and his pupils dilated as adrenaline dumped into his bloodstream.
Ian shot a superior smirk Caden’s way. “I think I rubbed the mage she kept company with the wrong way, though. Guess I have a tendency to do that, huh, Mitchell?”
The bear shifter let out a derisive grunt.
“Does your endless rambling have a point, Gregor? Or did you come here to attempt to bore me to death?”
Finally, a few words from the self-important director. He turned his attention back to McAlister. Power sparked the air around them and settled on Gregor’s tongue with an electric tang. For so long, he’d feared that power and marveled at McAlister’s self-control, never knowing that all this time, the bastard’s magic had been bound. The only power he possessed was what his position within the Sortiari lent him.
“No point.” Ian wasn’t ready to show his hand just yet. McAlister was smart enough to read between the lines. “Just wanted you to know I had a nice vacation.” He grinned even wider, showing his teeth. “That’s all.”
McAlister folded his hands together and rested them on the surface of the desk. His gaze hardened and his jaw squared. Anger boiled under the surface of his calm façade and Ian couldn’t help his own superior smirk. A slave no longer, he’d show the guardians of fate what it meant to be under another’s thumb. When he was done with them, they’d all bow at his feet, including their haughty director.
“You have two minutes to remove yourself from Sortiari property before Caden removes you.”
Ian let out a chuff of laughter. McAlister had obviously forgotten who he was speaking to. Didn’t matter. Soon enough, Ian would remind him. He lifted his legs from the pristine desktop and set them firmly on the aging industrial carpet before pushing himself out of his chair. Why McAlister chose to hold court in this run-down office when the Sortiari had a fancy-as-fuck, state-of-the-art building on the outskirts of the city was beyond him. They certainly liked to play their games. This illusion of poverty, though, was a fucking joke.
“No need to get your pet involved, McAlister. I know where the door is.”
Ian turned to find Caden so gods-damned close he could practically feel the son of a bitch’s breath on his face. Berserkers sat atop the supernatural food chain. Not much frightened them. But bear shifters could definitely cause a bit of unease. A corner of Caden’s mouth quirked into an arrogant smirk and his light blue eyes flashed with feral gold.
“Careful he doesn’t pull that leash of yours too tight, Mitchell.” Ian brushed past the shifter, his spine straight and shoulders thrown back. “I’d hate for you to choke.”
“If I were you, I’d be worrying about my own neck, Gregor.” Caden’s deep voice resonated in the tiny office. For a second there, Ian had wondered if the male had gone mute. “You’re not as omnipotent as you think you are.”
Ian chuckled. He loved it when those around him underestimated him. Made his job so much easier. He paused at the door and turned his attention back to McAlister. “Give my regards to Aristov the next time you see him. Tell him I hope to see him soon.”
The director didn’t bother to respond. He simply met Ian’s gaze and held it. The bastard didn’t cower. Ian could at least respect that. He cast one last amused glance Caden’s way before leaving the office. A great start to the day.