I trailed Zaq through the cemetery, though not because I thought he’d try to escape.
We both knew he wouldn’t get far without money or credit cards. But more importantly, his brothers’ lives depended on him sticking to the bargain he’d made with Moreau. I’d known Zaq and his brothers were close, but I was beginning to think he’d chew off his own hand if it would save Gabriel and Rafael.
So I didn’t trail him because I was afraid he’d escape. I trailed him because night was falling fast and he was in no shape to fight off a vampire attack.
“And you say we’re the monsters.”
Suddenly, the night felt airless. A band wrapped itself around my lungs. Everything that bothered me about this mission was encapsulated in that short statement.
Being a slayer was all I knew. It wasn’t just a job, it was my calling. I’d seen firsthand what vampires could do to a human.
Monster was too tame a word for the creatures who’d murdered my mom. I’d been too young and untrained to save her, but I’d dedicated my life to protecting others like her.
Still, I was starting to think we’d fucked up with Operation Angel.
Crow had told me that Karoly Kral was working behind the scenes to take down Slayers, Inc. He’d spread lies about SI and demanded the organization be dismantled.
The Kral primus was an apex predator. The power he’d already amassed wasn’t enough for him. He wanted more.
If he got his wish, the blood-suckers would be running things at SI, and the balance between them and the humans I’d sworn to protect would be upended.
And on top of that, he’d left Zaq in Moreau’s lair rather than risking his own neck to get his son out.
Karoly Kral needed to die.
But not Zaq and his brothers.
I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes.
Think like a slayer. Fight like a slayer. Live like a slayer.
My mouth moved, repeating the words like a mantra. The simple phrases were my touchstone. They calmed me, reminded me why I’d joined SI in the first place.
We were the good guys. The heroes who stood between humans and a cold-blooded species who, if left unchecked, wouldn’t stop until they’d enslaved every last man, woman and child on the planet.
I had to believe that what we did was right. Otherwise, I was as much a monster as the vampires and their syndicates.
Zaq’s breathing grew labored. He slowed down but stubbornly kept walking.
“I know you’re there,” he said without turning around. “I’m a dhampir, don’t forget. I have excellent hearing, and I can see in the dark as well as you.”
So much for trying to give him space. I caught up to him.
He favored me with a green-eyed glare. “I told you I wouldn’t escape.”
“I didn’t follow you because of that. I trust you.”
“Do you? Because if you think the agreement I made with Moreau will stop me from doing whatever I can for my brothers—”
“That’s why I trust you. Not because of Moreau, because of your brothers. You’ll go along this as long as you think it’s helping them. I’m counting on that, actually.”
“Are you?” He made a sound of disgust. “Gods, you’re cold.”
That hurt. Maybe I shouldn’t have answered so truthfully, but I thought he’d appreciate honesty.
“We should go back.”
“I need air.” He moved off again.
I heaved a breath and followed. As we crested a hill, a movement out the corner of my eye made me whip around.
A scrawny, ponytailed vampire crouched on top of a tomb.
Crap. The sun had set without my realizing it. And I was out here without my brown wig and dhampir-with-a-bad-attitude disguise.
The vampire eyed Zaq like he was an ice cream cone on a hot summer day. He licked his dark red lips. His fangs extended.
I drew a glamour over myself, including a hairstyle that approximated the wig, and stalked forward, switchblade out. “He’s mine, asshat.”
The vampire’s blue-rimmed eyes moved up and down my body. Sizing me up.
My own fangs extended without my willing it. Thanks to de Froulay, my vampire magic was powerful, although I didn’t call on it unless absolutely necessary. And this man was low in the cemetery’s pecking order
I glanced over my shoulder. Zaq had halted. He looked from me to the vampire.
“Go,” I hissed. “Back to the bolt-hole.”
Of course, he didn’t obey. No, he grunted and started in my direction.
I faced the hungry vampire, let my power surge. My senses sharpened. The blue expanded in my eyes, bringing the scrawny male into intense focus. I could see the individual black bristles on his unshaven jaw, the yellow striations in his brown eyes, the knife-like points of his fangs. His scent was musty from whatever broken-down tomb he called home, and his heartbeat was slow, weak.
The vampire’s eyelids fluttered. He took a shocked breath. He hadn’t expected me to be so strong.
“Allez.” I motioned with my blade. “Maintenant!” Go. Now!
He backed up without taking his gaze from me. When he couldn’t go any further, he leapt off the tomb and scuttled away like a frightened rat.
I turned back to Zaq. “I had things handled.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “I know—you’re a badass. But even a badass can use backup. Thanks, by the way.”
I shifted from one foot to the other, not sure what to make of either his badass comment or his thanks. I settled for a gruff, “You’re welcome.”
He held out a hand. “Walk with me.”
I looked at his hand, then back to his face. What was the catch? “You want to hold hands?”
He made an impatient sound. “We’re supposed to be lovers, right? Now take it already so you won’t have to keep chasing off asshole vampires.”
My cheeks heated. He was right; I should’ve thought of it myself.
I put my hand in his. His fingers were long and strong. The hand of a musician, or maybe a healer. They wrapped firmly around mine.
A zing went up my arm and he slanted me a knowing smile, even though I didn’t flinch or pull away. Neither of us said anything.
We ended up at Jim Morrison’s grave. Zaq opened a gate in the low metal fence that surrounded that section of graves and we went inside. I hadn’t known much about Morrison before I’d started visiting Lachaise—just that he was a sixties rock star who’d died young, but his grave was one of the cemetery’s most visited sites. His fans kept it decorated with fresh flowers and photos of the singer.
It was completely dark now, the sky above us a dusky blue. Someone had lit a candle and placed it on the stone above Morrison’s grave. A noise behind us made me whip around. A cat’s eyes glowed in the branches of a nearby tree.
“We should go back,” I said. “It’s not safe out here. You’re still healing. If that vampire gets some friends and comes back, I might not be able to fight them off.”
He blew out a breath and pulled his hand from mine. “You’re fucked up, you know that? You’re so worried about keeping me alive. But if I mess this up, you think I don’t know you’ll stake me?”
My throat worked. His gaze flicked to the small, telling movement, then back to my face.
“What if I swear that I won’t?” The words pushed themselves passed the thickness in my throat, surprising us both.
He stepped closer. Searching my face. I hadn’t dropped the glamour but I had a feeling he still could see me. The real me.
“Why should I trust you?”
“I’m the best chance you’ve got.”
He gave a muted bark of laughter. “You’re honest anyway.”
“Yes. And when I make a promise, I keep it.” I stuck out my hand. “I swear on my mother’s grave that you’re safe with me.”
He took my hand but didn’t shake it. “Tell me your name. You want me to trust you? Give me that much, at least.”
I moistened my lips. “I can’t.”
He raised my hand. I tensed, expecting him to kiss it, but he turned it over instead and examined the faint marks he’d left behind when he’d fed from me.
His gaze came back to mine. Dark, insistent. “Yes, you can.”
Longing twisted through me, a sharp, sudden craving. I couldn’t recall the last time anyone had called me by my real name. Suddenly, I needed to hear it spoken—and not by just anyone.
By him. Zaquiel.
My mouth opened again. “Ridley.” I kept my voice low, but it felt like I’d shouted it.
He relaxed a little. “Ridley,” he repeated. His voice had a hint of gravel. My plain, boyish name sounded sexy, like we were in bed together, not standing in a graveyard. “No last name?”
I wordlessly shook my head.
“Someday.” The word held a promise, like there would be a future for us, a future where I would tell him not just my full name, but all my secrets.
At that moment, I almost believed it.
“Ridley. I like it.” Zaq touched his lips to the marks on my wrist. His lips were soft and warm.
Shocks and tingles went up my arm like Fourth-of-July sparklers. My head swam with his scent. My heart knocked against my ribcage. He kissed a line up my forearm, touching his lips to the sensitive skin of my inner elbow.
“Zaquiel…”
He raised his head from my arm, smiling—an intimate, just-for-me smile that set off more shocks and tingles, this time in my lower belly.
“Call me Zaq. No one calls me Zaquiel except my father—or my mom when she’s really pissed off.”
He’s playing you, Ridley. Trying to get you on his side.
But I found myself nodding. Hell, I’d already been calling him Zaq in my head.
“Zaq,” I agreed.
He released my hand and ran the backs of his fingers over my cheek. He’d moved closer, or maybe I had. We were nearly touching now. I felt his heat up and down the front of my body. My nipples prickled and hardened.
He cupped my chin, ran his thumb over my lower lip. “I wish…” He halted and shook his head.
It was maddening. I needed him to finish that sentence. I’d forgotten we were in the cemetery. I’d forgotten he was supposed to be my prisoner. I’d forgotten that he was probably playing me.
We were in a Zaq-and-Ridley bubble, warm and beautiful and ripe with possibilities.
I let my glamour fade. We were alone, and I could always call on it again if I had to.
“What?” I caught his wrist. “What do you wish?”
His mouth tugged to the side like he was laughing at us both. “That I’d met you some other way. So we could get to know each other like two people do. People who like each other. Because I think I could like you, Ridley No-Name.”
And I could like you, Zaq Kral. A lot.
I stilled, drenched in the ice water of common sense. Nearby, an owl hooted.
I dropped his wrist. Stepped back. “We should go.”
A crushing sadness gripped my chest.
Because we hadn’t met in a normal, get-to-know-each-other way. And we couldn’t like each other or have any kind of a future together.
I was a slayer. And he was a syndicate prince.
Zaq’s smile dimmed. “Yeah. Right.”
Back at the tomb, Zaq brushed me aside when I went to move the slab aside. “I’ll do it.”
“Be my guest.” I watched as he heaved it out of the way. Clearly, he was recovering.
I looked into the bolt-hole and felt a frisson of panic. Right now, I couldn’t deal with being confined in a small space with Zaq Kral.
“You go on down,” I told him. “I have to do…something.”
“Suit yourself.” He ignored the ladder and dropped lightly to the dirt floor. “I’m going to bed.”
I nodded and left, wandering aimlessly among the nearby tombs. Away from Zaq, I let my shoulders sag.
If only he wasn’t a Kral.
If only I’d met him some other time, some other place.
Right then I wanted my mom so bad I could taste it. I literally ached to see her one more time. She wouldn’t even have to speak, just put her arms around me and tell me everything was going to okay, that I’d work it out.
Hot tears stung my eyes. I swiped at them with the heels of my hands and realized I’d come almost to the cemetery entrance. I turned back.
The shadows next to the gate wavered like a ripple passing through dark water. Someone was there. Watching me.
My heart jerked. My knees locked. I grabbed my blade, released the catch. I’d dropped my glamour but it was too late to pull it over myself again.
I cursed under my breath. I knew better than this. Emotion wasn’t something I could afford to indulge in.
Leo de Froulay emerged from the ripple, blond mane pulled back into a ponytail and wearing a suit the same midnight blue as the sky above us. He looked me up and down like he’d caught me with my hand in the cookie jar.
“What are you up to, ma p’tite?”
My palms were sweaty. I adjusted my grip on the blade’s steel handle.
How had he found me here in Lachaise? And had he seen me Zaq?
“Nothing.” I schooled my voice to be flat. Thank God he couldn’t read my emotions like he could a human’s. “If this is about that intel you asked for, I’ve been meaning to contact you.”
I held my breath, waiting for de Froulay to brush that aside to ask about Zaq.
But he replied, “You found something?”
I relaxed. Luck was with me. He must have just arrived.
“Yes,” I said. “You were right. Something’s up.”
“Ah, yes?”
I couldn’t tell de Froulay the truth about Zaq’s kidnapping. Not yet.
But I could make Philippe Moreau’s life difficult. “He’s plotting something with the Tremblays. Something big.”
De Froulay’s face tightened. “You have proof?”
“Enough. I heard things—little things, here and there. But I don’t have details. Moreau didn’t trust me that far I think he’s trafficking humans, too. The thralls in his lair are afraid of him, and I’m pretty sure he beats them.”
De Froulay swore. “I need more.”
“You’ll have to find your own proof. I’m not working for him anymore. In fact, I’m leaving Paris.”
Twin lines formed between his dark brows. “Why?”
“I had a better offer.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was the best I could come up with on such short notice.
A pained look crossed his face. “If you’d let me help you…”
I shook my head. “I’ll contact you if I hear anything else.”
“All right.” He hesitated, then stepped closer. His gaze probed my blank expression like he could see the fear and worry beneath. “If you’re in trouble, I’d like to help.”
No. Hell, no.
“Everything’s fine. I just have another job, is all.”
“Here’s my personal number.” He scribbled a number on a business card and held it out. “If you need anything—anything at all—call or text me. No one but me has access to it.”
I stared at the card without taking it.
A muscle jumped in his jaw. He took my hand, placed the card into my palm and closed my fingers around it.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
He heaved a breath. “If I could go back in time and do things over, I would. Charlotte didn’t like my life—she made no secret of that. She never wanted to be with a syndicate vampire, especially a primus.”
“You think I care?”
He shrugged his big shoulders. “Frankly, I think you do.”
I took a step back. “I have to go.”
“I’m surprised she stayed as long as she did. I should never have taken her as a thrall—that’s my one regret. I knew she was different.” His mouth pulled to the side in a poignant little smile. “She really did love me. You don’t know how seductive that can be to a man like me.”
I stared at him, hearing again my mom’s screams. The screams that changed to whimpers before they were abruptly cut off.
“She died because of you.” My voice shook with anger. “Do you regret that, too?”
“Of course. And I’m sorry, my dear, so very sorry. Those are just words, I know. But I truly mean them.”
I fisted my hands. De Froulay’s card crumpled in my fingers but I barely noticed.
“Your words mean nothing. Not when I lost my—my—” I stopped, unable to speak past the lump clogging my throat. “They hurt her. I heard her screaming. And I couldn’t help. God knows what they did to her, but she refused to give me up.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
With an effort, I brought myself under control. I even managed a tight nod.
His mouth formed a hard line. “If I could go back in time and change things, I would. But I promise you this. I will find the men who murdered Charlotte, and they will pay. This I swear on the blood of my own mother.”
“And you’ll remember your promise? I want to be there.”
“You have my word. And my dear? Don’t wait to leave Paris. Go tomorrow, while it’s daylight. In fact, leave France. You are in trouble, and it’s not just whatever’s led you to hide out in this cemetery. There’s a rumor circulating among my men that you’re a slayer.”
I went as still as the tombs surrounding us. “That’s a lie.”
Shrewd light eyes considered me. “Hmm.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but he raised a hand, halting me.
“I prefer not to know. Just get out of my city before I have to do something about you. You have money?”
“I—yes, I’m good.”
“Good. I’ll deposit the sum I promised you to a Swiss account. The details will be sent to you. Memorize that number I gave you, then destroy it.”
And with that, the Primus of Paris faded back into the shadows.