I peered around the dumpster, Ridley cradled to my chest. Forty-second Street was empty. The late-night crowd had gone to bed and the morning rush hour hadn’t begun yet. The few humans left were drunk, on drugs, or smart enough to mind their own business, and the vampires would have returned to their lairs to take their day sleep.
I pulled my glamour over me, nuzzled Ridley’s neck to hide her face, and strode down the sidewalk like a man with sex on his mind.
There was too much I didn’t understand about what had just gone down. Still, one thing was clear—someone had put out a hit on not just me, but Ridley. And with her injured, the best thing was to go to ground while she healed. Somewhere safe with both food and blood-wine, and maybe access to a thrall for fresh blood.
I racked my mind for options, but the only place that checked all the boxes was my own loft. I decided to take the chance.
As long as we got inside without being spotted, we should be good. Xavier, my dhampir head of security, was loyal to me, not my father. Five years ago I’d rescued Xavier from a dicey situation in Mexico City, and he’d turned around and rescued me the next day. I’d offered him a job and he’d been with me ever since.
It was the getting inside without being spotted that was the tricky part.
I ducked into a doorway and worked the phone from my pocket while trying not to jar Ridley.
Xavier answered immediately.
“It’s me,” I said, low-voiced. “Don’t act surprised. And don’t say my name.”
“Okay.”
“Is anyone with you?”
“No.”
“Good.” I glanced around, calculated we were roughly two miles from my loft. “I’m in the city, about twenty minutes away. Is anyone watching the building?”
“Not since last night. Something big went down. I don’t know if you heard.”
“I heard. But okay, perfect.” I released a relieved exhale. “Wait on the top floor for me. I’ll come around the back and ring the bell. I’ll be in the shadows, so you won’t see me. Buzz me in, then open the door to my loft. But only you, understand? Don’t tell the others.” Besides Xavier, my security team had three other members.
“Understood. Just in case, I’ll send Katie out front to create a diversion. We’ve been doing it off and on just to keep them busy—and to cover you when you finally came back.”
And that right there was why I loved the man.
“Good thinking. See you in twenty.” I ended the call and set off for the Meatpacking District.
My T-shirt was soaked with Ridley’s blood. I glanced over my shoulder, hoping we weren’t leaving a trail. We weren’t. Not yet anyway.
At least the sun was up—still hidden behind the skyscrapers, but up—because a vampire would be able to scent that much blood a block away, and the same went for a dhampir.
I couldn’t walk the entire two miles with a bleeding woman in my arms; even a New York City cop wouldn’t turn a blind eye to that. I flagged down a cab and climbed inside, settling Ridley carefully on my lap.
She moaned; a low, hurting sound that hit me in the heart.
The cabbie frowned at me in the rearview mirror.
“Drive.” I let the vampire-blue into my eyes. “Syndicate business.”
His mouth dropped open. “Yes, sir.”
“Drop us on the corner of Ninth and Fourteenth. Chelsea Market.” I named a corner a block from my building so he wouldn’t know our true destination. “And take it easy. She’s hurt. I don’t want her getting banged around.”
The cabbie’s swallow was audible. “Yes, sir.”
I made Ridley as comfortable as I could, her head supported in the crook of my arm, her legs on the seat. Her skin was pale, her mouth tight with pain, and dark bruises had bloomed on her cheek and jaw.
I set my lips to her temple. “Hang in there, badass. We’re almost there.”
Her eyelids fluttered. “I’m…fine.”
I huffed a laugh. “Sure you are.”
Back there in the tunnels when I’d turned and seen that bastard stick Ridley with his knife, the bottom had dropped out of my world. I would’ve gladly taken the blade myself.
I pressed a kiss to each of her closed eyes. Without her trademark energy, the inner vibrance that made her seem so much more than she was, she felt too light, almost fragile. Too damn breakable.
My chest squeezed like she’d reached inside and grabbed my heart—and that’s when I knew I was holding my mate.
God damn it to Hades.
I didn’t realize I’d spoken aloud until the cabbie glanced uneasily at the mirror.
I flashed my fangs. “Keep your eyes on the road.”
I waited until he obeyed, then rested my head on the back of the seat. The adrenaline from the fight had worn off. I stared tiredly at the passing buildings. My eyes drooped, my head nodding on my chest.
I straightened and blinked rapidly, willing myself to remain awake until the cabbie stopped in front of the tall brick building that housed the Chelsea Market.
“We’re here, sir.”
I handed him a fifty and pointedly eyed his identification. “You tell anyone you saw us, and I’ll hunt you down.”
The fifty disappeared. “Saw who?”
“Good man.”
I got out of the taxi, Ridley in my arms. She’d passed out, probably a blessing.
The market didn’t open until seven a.m. I slipped into the entryway. When I was out of sight of the sidewalk, I faded into the shadows with Ridley. The building I owned was on the next block, the middle unit in a row of three-story buildings that had once been factories.
When I reached the corner, I saw a woman pounding on the front door of my building—Katie, disguised by a glamour. At least, I assumed it was her.
I circled around the back, dropped out of the shadows and slapped my hand onto the doorbell for the third floor. Xavier immediately buzzed me in. Not for the first time, I thanked the lucky star that had led to that chance meeting in Mexico.
Pulling open the door, I stepped over the threshold and back into the shadows.
My head spun. I took a stumbling step forward. I was running on fumes, my energy all but depleted. I set my jaw and strode with Ridley up the steps.
The first floor was rented at a low rate to a local nonprofit, who had no access to my private staircase. The door to the second floor, where my security staff’s quarters were located, was closed.
Xavier waited at the top, holding open the door to my loft. I walked out of the shadows and into the kitchen—and got slammed by a wave of nausea. Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead. I swallowed and kept walking.
Xavier closed the door and fell in beside me. His gaze bounced between me and Ridley, taking in our torn, bloody clothes.
“What the fuck, jefe?” He insisted on calling me boss, even though I’d told him to call me Zaq.
“We got jumped by four underworld SOBs. Apparently there’s a reward for anyone who stakes us.”
He let out a low whistle. “Where do you want to put the woman?”
“My bed.”
The loft took up the entire third floor. It was built on an open plan with the kitchen and living room taking up the front half. On the street side, a wall of windows ran the length of the living room. I glanced at them, relieved to see someone had closed the custom-made blackout blinds I’d had installed inside the glass.
Xavier followed my gaze. “I closed them,” he said. “The blinds in your bedroom, too. No one can see in.”
I nodded my thanks and headed down the short hall to my bedroom. Xavier slipped past me to turn on a small brass lamp and pull down the covers.
I laid Ridley on the bed. Her hair was damp from perspiration, its brightness dimmed like a tattered, but still beautiful butterfly. I stroked it back from her face, and her eyelids fluttered but didn’t open.
“Scrub the video of us,” I told Xavier, “then put the cam on a loop so it looks like no one is up here.” The longer we kept my return a secret, even from my staff, the safer Ridley and I would be.
“I’m on it, jefe.”
While he was out of the room, I removed Ridley’s boots and eased up the hem of her sleeveless black tee. Blood seeped out of her wound. The blades used as stakes are long and thin, which meant the hole was small in diameter—a couple of centimeters across—but deep. Still, it would’ve scabbed up already if the silver had prevented it from healing.
My first priority was to clean out the silver. The longer the poisonous metal remained in her body, the sicker she’d get.
Xavier returned. His deep brown eyes moved from Ridley’s pale face to the bloody hole in her lower left abdomen.
“She took a knife in the side?”
“Yeah. A silver knife. She’s a dhampir.”
His thick black brows lifted. I could see his intelligent brain working, but all he said was, “What can I do?”
“I need to irrigate the wound.”
He nodded. “I’ll boil up some salt and water and sterilize a meat baster.”
“That’ll do.” The salt water would clean and disinfect the wound, and I could use the meat baster as a syringe.
“You gonna stitch it up?” he asked.
“Nah. Better to leave it open so the silver can work its way out. If it gets infected, I might have to clean it again.”
Xavier left and I heard him in the kitchen, running water and putting it on to boil. I turned to Ridley, easing off her shirt and pants.
Her bra and boy-shorts I left on. They weren’t in the way, and the possessive beast in me who’d just realized I’d found my mate didn’t want another man looking at her naked body.
I threw away the shirt and put her pants aside to wash later, then turned back to her. Not only her face was bruised; red-and-purple marks and cuts marred her arms and torso as well.
My lungs fisted with a dark anger. I only wished I could stake George twice.
I pulled the sheet over her legs and went into the bathroom. I scrubbed up, then gathered gauze, self-adhesive first-aid tape and a pair of surgical gloves. Back in the bedroom, I set everything on the nightstand and pulled a chair up to the bed.
Ridley’s head moved from side to side. “Zaq?”
“Right here.” I took her hand and brought it to my lips. Her skin was clammy. Dismayed, I laid her hand back on the sheet.
Her lids fluttered again. This time she managed to get them open. Fever-bright eyes searched my face. “You—okay?”
“I’m fine. You’re the one with a goddamn hole in her side.”
She raised her hand and hovered it over her abdomen without touching the injury. “Hurts.”
My throat constricted. “I know.” My voice came out a froggy croak. I cleared my throat, tried again. “I’m going to clean the wound out for you, okay?”
“Tired.”
“I know, cher. Just let me get you fixed up and then you can sleep all you want.”
A tiny nod. Her gaze took in the room—the high ceiling, the king-sized bed with a leather headboard, the exposed brick walls on two sides of the room, the bronze pendant lights. Her fingers plucked at the sheet, a soft linen in a color my interior designer called fog but to me was a plain old gray.
“Where…are we?”
“In my loft.”
The corners of her mouth turned down. “Not safe.”
“It’s okay. I snuck us in and Xavier here—” the other man had walked in with a metal basin of hot water, a plastic meat baster and a stack of white kitchen towels—“will make sure nobody talks.”
“Oh.”
I got the nightstand from the other side of the bed and set it next to me. Xavier laid the baster, pan and towels on it.
“No one can know we’re staying here,” I told him. “Not my father. Not my mom. Not even Gabriel and Rafe.”
Surprised flickered over his face. “Not even your brothers?”
“No.”
“Understood. You need anything else?”
“Some blood-wine for the lady.”
“Be right back.” Xavier returned in thirty seconds with a stemless glass of merlot.
I cupped the back of Ridley’s head. Her gray eyes were clouded with pain.
My mouth flattened. Fuck, I hated seeing her hurting like this. She was such a badass, and I loved that about her—but she shouldn’t have to be a badass. She should be able to live a normal life with a job that didn’t mean risking her life on a daily basis.
“Drink.” I brought the glass to her lips. She took a small sip. I kept the glass against her mouth. “More.”
She took another tiny drink, then turned her head. “Done.”
“One more sip.” I used my sickroom voice, soft but firm.
She wrinkled her nose at me but obeyed.
“Good girl.” I finished the wine and put it on the nightstand.
To Xavier, I said, “I’m going to roll her onto her side and clean as much of the silver out as I can. You catch the overflow with the towels.”
“Got it.” He picked up the towels and moved to my other side so he could reach her more easily.
I turned back to Ridley. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
She tried to turn onto her right side herself. I guided her the rest of the way over, packed some of the towels around her and pulled on the surgical gloves.
“This is going to hurt,” I warned as I filled the meat baster/syringe with the warm salt-water solution.
She nodded. Her fretfulness had vanished, replaced by a grim determination.
I pulled the wound a little apart with my gloved fingers. She tensed but didn’t make a sound.
I winced along with her. “Relax, sweetheart.” I kept my tone low and easy. “Breathe in. Breathe out.”
She nodded and I felt her muscles loosen.
I made a small, approving sound. “Perfect. Just like that.”
I squirted the saltwater solution into the wound multiple times while Xavier sopped up the blood and pus that ran out of it. Ridley remained outwardly relaxed, her breath loud but even, for the entire procedure.
Hell, I was more tense than her. I knew it had to hurt like a mofo.
At last I finished. The blood ran clear, and the wound had started to close up.
I sat back and released a long exhale like a tire leaking air—which was pretty much how I felt.
Xavier patted Ridley’s side dry. “Nice work,” he told me. “I think you got all the silver.”
“I hope so.” I ripped open a gauze packet and bandaged the wound, then stripped off my gloves and dropped them on top of the dirty towels.
“Almost done,” I told Ridley. “Now I’m just going to clean you up.”
Xavier handed me a damp washcloth, and I cleaned the blood and sweat from her face and body. “There you go. All done.” I tucked a lock of white-gold hair behind her ear.
“Thank you,” she whispered. She closed her eyes and a few seconds later was asleep.
Xavier gathered up the towels, basin and supplies.
“Bring me a glass of the merlot,” I told him. “No, bring the whole bottle. And some cheeseburgers—rare. I’m hungry as fuck.”
He nodded. “What about a thrall? You look like hell.”
A thrall? My fangs pricked at my gums and my mouth watered. I needed fresh blood, bad.
I reluctantly shook my head. “Better not risk it.”
“Leave it to me. I’ll get Sierra—offer her triple her usual rate and put her up here for a few days. But I’ll have to tell the team you’re here.”
I hesitated, but I needed to feed. “All right, but don’t tell them about Tina.” I indicated Ridley, using her current alias. I trusted Xavier like a brother, but the less people who knew her identity, the better. “And if anyone leaks that I’m here, I will personally send them to their final grave.”
“Don’t worry. They’ll keep quiet.”
I sat back on the chair, legs stuck out in front of me, and considered the sleeping woman. So Ridley No-Last-Name was a princess—and someone wanted her dead.
I pursed my lips. “You’ve been keeping secrets, badass.”
If she really were a princess—and why would George have lied?—that meant her father was a primus. And my bet was on Leo de Froulay.
I considered her pale hair and delicate features. Why hadn’t de Froulay claimed her? The man didn’t have a mate who might object to Ridley. He didn’t even have an heir of his bloodline.
I massaged the bridge of my nose. “But that’s not the biggest problem here, is it?”
First we had to figure out who had put out the hit on us. My father? Slayers, Inc.? Or someone else altogether? Because how the hell would my father or SI know Ridley was a princess?
Xavier arrived to inform me the food was ready. I nodded and with a last glance at the sleeping Ridley, followed him down the hall to the main part of the loft.
The kitchen table was a one-of-a-kind piece I’d bought from a Maryland woodworker who’d cut up two old oak doors into rectangles of different sizes and fit them back together into one large rectangle. I pulled out the steel chair in front of a platter of cheeseburgers and sat down. Xavier took the seat opposite and sipped a blood-wine while I started on the first burger.
“So I take it you know what went down at the Garnet last night,” I said between bites.
He nodded. “Victorine Tremblay was staked when she attacked your father. Mraz got caught in the cross-fire.”
I stopped eating to stare at him. “That’s the official story?”
“Yeah. You know different?”
I shook my head and took a gulp of blood-wine. “I was there, but not in the restaurant. I was watching from a roof across the street. I got word that Father and Rafe were meeting with Victorine and her daughter, and I—”
I stopped short of saying I’d been there to stake my father before he could kill Rafe. Some things Xavier was better off not knowing.
“I was there to help if I could,” I said instead. “I don’t trust Victorine.”
“Well, she’s not a problem anymore, is she?” He flashed a white, sharp-toothed grin.
“No.” I stared at him. “She’s not, is she?”
In all the excitement, I’d almost forgotten. The prima had always been out there, the woman who wanted me and my brothers dead.
At least something good had come of last night.
“So where the hell have you been?” he asked. “And why couldn’t anyone get in touch with you?”
“First I was in a fucking cell in Paris and then I was holed up recovering from what the bastards did to me. Since then I’ve basically been dark.”
“A cell?”
I nodded. “An enforcer from the Paris Syndicate had me kidnapped and kept me in a cell, cuffed to the wall. Silver cuffs.”
Xavier’s gaze went to the braided leather bands on my wrists. He pursed his lips. “The enforcer’s still alive?”
“Moreau? For now.” We exchanged grim smiles. “But enough about me. Tell me what’s been happening with my brothers.”
“Here’s what I know.” He sat back, wine glass in hand, and brought me up to date while I helped myself to a second cheeseburger.
Gabriel was fine despite having been almost staked—twice. In fact, he’d impressed some of our most vocal detractors in the syndicate with how he’d kept things together while my father had been out of touch.
And the thing between Gabriel and Camila Vittore was legit. She’d accepted his blood bond at the Ruby Speakeasy in front of a roomful of Kral Syndicate vampires.
“You didn’t hear this from me,” Xavier added with a sly smile—he prided himself on being the first to know anything—“but Gabriel took the Vittore chica as his mate.”
“No kidding.” So Gabriel’s Mila really had come back. I smiled. “That’s good news.”
“They haven’t been seen since last Thursday, though. Somebody told me he took her to his house out on Long Island, and she’s undergoing the transition to dhampir for him.”
“Wow. That’s some heavy shit.” As a human, Mila only had a 50 percent chance of surviving the transition. No wonder Gabriel had seemed distracted when we spoke on Monday.
“Yeah,” said Xavier.
“And Rafe?” I asked.
My younger brother was fine too, and had apparently mated with Zoe—in fact, the princess had intended to defect to the Kral Syndicate, which was why they’d been meeting with Victorine Tremblay.
“You can guess what the prima thought about that,” Xavier added dryly.
As a dhampir, he’d been treated like scum by the Mexico City primus. The only vampire he truly liked and respected was my father.
“So Victorine attacked first?”
“That’s what Feehan says, and he was inside the restaurant.”
I straightened. “He was? Tell me exactly what he said.”
“Exactly?”
“Yeah. This is important.”
Xavier stared into his glass for a few seconds. “Okay, here’s what he told me. Your father accused Prima Victorine of breaking the truce. He had proof, said Princess Zoe had shown him the evidence herself. He mentioned Philippe Moreau, said he’d been stripped of his rank as enforcer for detaining you and Rafe.”
His gaze flicked again to the leather wristbands.
“Excellent.” I showed my teeth in a smile that would’ve surprised those vampires in Moreau’s lair who’d believed I was soft. “It will make it easier when I stake the sonuvabitch. Go on.”
“There was more talk about the feud. Your father pushed Victorine to put the feud behind them for good. Rafe and Zoe had bonded, he’d said, and if Victorine staked Rafe, Victorine’s bloodline would end with Zoe.”
“So they really mated.”
Xavier nodded. “The prima gave in. You know how vampires are about their bloodlines. She took an oath that the three of you were safe from her, that she’d never try to harm you. That’s when things blew up.”
I leaned forward, literally on the edge of my seat. “What happened?”
“Only two guards were allowed in the room—Feehan and another man. But the other soldier was really Lieutenant Mraz using a glamour. He staked the man who was supposed to be there and took his place.”
“But my father must’ve known—”
A decisive shake of his head. “No. Your father had been looking for the lieutenant. Mraz wanted you dead. That much everyone agrees on. There’s talk he was working with SI.”
I considered that. It fit, and yet… “But what if it wasn’t Tomas who was working with SI? What if it was my dad?”
“The primus?” Surprise splashed across Xavier’s broad face. “Why would he want you dead?”
“I don’t know, damn it. It doesn’t make sense to me, either. But I was told by both Moreau and Tina that he knew I was in that damn cell, and he did nothing to get me out.”
His sturdy shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I suppose it could be true. It fits the facts, and everyone knows Tomas was an extension of Karoly. But why would your father want to take out his heirs?”
“That’s what doesn’t make sense to me, either. Unless he believes we’re planning a coup.”
“You heard about that?”
“So it’s true? People are saying the three of us are planning a coup?”
“Yeah. Your father disappeared around the same time as you, and suddenly Gabriel was in charge. It looked bad, si? And Mraz seemed edgy. He supported Gabriel in public, but behind his back, he was trying to find out where your father had gone. Mraz even flew to Paris, which didn’t make sense at the time, but if that’s where you were—”
“Yeah.”
“But Monday night, your father marched into the Ruby Speakeasy and put a stop to the rumors. Said he’d put Gabriel in charge himself, and if anyone said different, he was lying. Sounds like somebody was trying to make trouble.” Xavier fingered his chin. “Maybe Mraz?”
I grunted. The gods knew, I wanted to believe my father was innocent. But he and Tomas had been so close. Either one—or both—could have been working with SI. Whatever you said about one man applied equally to the other.
And there was that note I’d seen in Tomas’s office, the one that had implied the rumors of the coup came from someone else…
“So how did Tomas and Victorine die?” I asked.
“Tomas attacked Rafe out of nowhere and all hell broke loose. Feehan said it happened like that—” Xavier snapped his fingers. “Victorine took advantage of the confusion to grab Zoe’s dagger and went for your father. Then a funny thing happened. When Mraz saw Victorine attack Karoly, he went for her himself.”
“So it was Tomas who staked Victorine?”
“That’s right. And your father staked Mraz.”
“That’s what I heard last night.” I stared unseeingly over Xavier’s shoulder, recalling the scene in the Hotel Garnet courtyard. “What I don’t understand is why Father would stake Tomas when he’d defended him against Victorine? Unless he’s going blood mad…”
“Your father?” Xavier looked at me like I’d sprouted a second head. “No way. He might be old, but my master in Mexico was going blood mad, and I can tell you your father is not. He’s not giving off that odor, is he?”
“Not when I last saw him. But that was a couple of months ago. Suppose he’s in the early stages?”
Xavier spread his hands. “Anything is possible. What makes you think this, anyway?”
My gaze jumped toward the bedroom.
“Ah,” he said. “The woman. But how would she know?”
I shrugged, not ready to answer that.
Xavier tugged at his lower lip, something he only did when he was worried or upset.
“What?” I asked.
“The last thing Tomas said is, ‘Zaquiel is ours. You will not find him until it is too late.’ Everyone is looking for you, jefe. There’s a rumor going around that you secretly joined SI. They say that’s where you go when you disappear, that your so-called humanitarian missions are a cover.”
My jaw dropped, along with my stomach. “Holy fuck. Leave for a few weeks and the world goes crazy. So I’m the bad guy? Tomas really said that?”
Xavier nodded. “You have to admit, it looks funny. First you disappear like you got sucked into a fucking black hole. Then when you reappear, you don’t go straight to your father, you hide instead. You can’t blame people for getting suspicious. Most of the vampires in the syndicate go way back with Mraz, and you’re the Kral brother who never officially joined the organization.” He spread his hands. “If you were them, what would you think?”
“Damn.” I exhaled through my teeth. “It actually makes a weird kind of sense.”
And to be honest, I had been up to something. I’d come to New York with a fucking slayer to stake my own father.
Hell, if I were a Kral vampire, I’d be suspicious of me, too.
Xavier glanced toward my bedroom. “So how does the woman come into this?”
“It’s complicated.” I blew out a breath.
Something was bothering me. Something Tomas had said. “Zaquiel is ours.”
And that’s when I knew. My view of the past few weeks’ events shifted and realigned.
I sat up straighter.
Tomas was the traitor. He had to be. It was the proof I’d been searching for. Why else would he have said I was “theirs”—whoever the hell “they” was?
And if he was in his final grave, then Gabriel and Rafe were safe.
The back of my throat stung and my eyes prickled. It had been such a long few weeks.
I swallowed and brushed a hand over my eyes. Xavier reached across the table and refilled my wine glass. Not saying anything, just making it clear he was on my side, no matter what.
I took a gulp of wine. By the time I set it down, I had myself under control.
“It was Tomas. It has to be. He’s been feeding intel to Slayers, Inc.—and they were the ones who kidnapped me. They were working with Moreau and Victorine Tremblay. I have proof. Tina will back me up.”
But would my dad believe me? Or would he believe Tomas’s last, vicious accusation?”
A sliver of apprehension worked its way into my happiness.
This wasn’t over. Not for me, anyway.
Especially with Ridley—a slayer—here in my loft. Even I had to admit that looked damn shaky.
“So,” said Xavier. “This woman. She’s a slayer, isn’t she?”
I gave a tight nod. “But no one else can know that. Swear it, Xavier.”
His mouth flattened. “Dios mio. What in the name of the Dark Lady have you gotten yourself into?”
“First, swear you’ll keep her secret.”
He snorted, clearly insulted I had to ask. “You know I will.”
“Thank you. And I’m sorry. You know I trust you with my life. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Damn right you can,” he muttered in Spanish, then added, “And why didn’t you come straight to me? How long have you been in the city anyway?”
“Nine nights,” I admitted.
“So you don’t trust me to keep my mouth closed?”
“It’s not that. I didn’t want to put you into the position of lying to my father. I may still end up with a stake in my heart.”
His head lowered like a bull ready to charge. “You think I’m afraid?” He smacked a fist to his chest. “Me?”
“Hell, no. I’ve seen you in action, remember?”
He nodded, somewhat mollified. “And what about Tina?”
“What about her?”
“Are you loco, bringing her here? I don’t care if she’s hurt. You could’ve left her on the street for them to find.”
“She’s also the one who arranged that deal for me in Paris. Otherwise I might still be in that fucking cell. And they didn’t just have me cuffed to the wall in silver without allowing me to eat or sleep—they were feeding from me.”
Xavier’s brows lowered. “Thrice-damned blood-suckers.” His primus had planned something similar for him before I got him out of Mexico.
“Anyway,” I continued, “this morning, when those underworld pricks attacked us, I told Tina to get the hell out of there, but she wouldn’t go. She stayed and helped me fight them off—and ended up getting knifed. So don’t worry about her. She’s with me now. You can trust her.”
“Whatever you say,” he said, clearly not convinced. “Okay. I’ll tell you what. Tonight I’ll go to the Ruby Speakeasy, see what people are saying. See if they’ve bought this story that you’re working with SI to overthrow your father.”
“Fuck the syndicate. The only thing I care about is what my dad believes.”
“You still need to know what they’re saying.”
“I know. It just pisses me off, that’s all. I was kidnapped, for fuck’s sake. How did I become the bad guy?”
He slanted me a look. “Why did you come to New York with a slayer, anyway?”
“To stake my father.”
He reared back. “This is the truth?”
“Yeah. They said it was the only way to save my brothers from SI. And once they got hold of Rafe, they turned up the pressure. Threatened to sell him as a blood slave if I didn’t do exactly as they said.”
“Does Karoly know any of this?”
“Not as far as I know. But who knows what Mraz told him?”
He dragged his fingers through his straight black hair. “Holy Mother of Darkness. This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all.”
“Yeah. I know.”
By the time Xavier and I wrapped up our little convo, I was so tired I was seeing two of him.
I stumbled into the bathroom and stood under the rain showerhead, eyes half-closed, letting the water wash away the blood and sweat and smell of the tunnels. I toweled off, then crawled naked onto the mattress beside Ridley.
I touched my fingers to her carotid. Her pulse was weaker than I liked, but steady. I set my head on the pillow next to hers, and the next thing I knew, it was late afternoon.
Ridley was still asleep. She’d pushed the sheet off and lay flat on her back, one hand touching my hip, the other curled near her head.
Her body radiated heat. Too much heat. And her lips were dry and pale, her eyes sunken. She was dehydrated, her dhampir body sucking up energy to heal itself.
I sat up and lifted a corner of the gauze, checking the wound. It had closed up already and was a healthy pink. I sniffed, but there was no sign of infection.
I got up and used the john, then hurried back to try and get some fluids into her. Xavier had left an open bottle of blood-wine on the nightstand. I poured some into a glass and brought it to her lips, but I couldn’t get her to wake up enough to drink. I swore and set the glass on the nightstand.
Xavier tapped on the bedroom door. “It’s me.”
I opened the door, and he looked me over with a critical eye. “You look better. Too skinny, but better. What about the woman?”
“The stab wound is better, but she’s burned through a lot of energy.” I dug out a clean T-shirt and boxers and put them on.
Xavier eyed Ridley coolly. “She needs to feed.”
“She won’t. She has…issues about fresh blood.”
“Figures.” He curled his lip. “Typical fucked-up slayer. Anyway, I came to tell you Sierra is here.”
“Good.” Sierra was one of my longtime thralls. Xavier had suggested I have her stay on the middle floor for the next few days. I’d agreed, telling him to take away her devices so she couldn’t communicate with anyone. In return, I’d instructed him to pay her triple her usual fee. “She agreed to the terms?”
“Yeah. She and Katie are a thing now, so she’s happy to move in for as long as you need her.” Katie was a member of my security team, along with two men.
“Good.”
“And Katie and the men said to say they’re behind you a hundred percent. They’ll keep your secret.”
I nodded. “But I still don’t want you to tell them about Tina.” I nodded at the sleeping Ridley. “Somebody wants her dead, and they’re willing to pay a boatload of money to make it happen.”
“Hmm.” His look said the jury was still out on “Tina.”
He withdrew, and I pulled on a pair of shorts and tried again to get Ridley to drink some blood-wine. This time, she woke up enough to take a small amount.
I left her to rest and went out into the living room where Sierra waited on a couch. A curvy, black-haired woman, she rose to greet me with a wide smile, and we air-kissed.
“It’s good to have you back, Zaquiel.”
“It’s good to be back.”
We sat on the couch, and I took the blood from her wrist. Energy surged into me. Somehow I knew my body had finally eliminated the last of the silver.
I felt like myself again. Focused, in control.
Back in the bedroom, Ridley was struggling to sit up. Her skin had an unhealthy flush and her eyes were blood-shot.
“Hey, take it easy.” I hurried across the room and guided her to lie back down. “What can I get you?”
“Thirsty,” she croaked.
I filled the wine glass and brought it to her lips, and she gulped it down.
“George.” She plucked at my wrist. “Knew who I was.”
“Rest.” I laid her head back on the pillow. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“No.” Her throat worked. “Listen.”
“Okay.” I took her hand. “What do you want to tell me? You really are a syndicate princess?”
A slight shake of her head.
“You’re not?”
“Not…that. He knew…I was Reaper—with you.”
“And you’re wondering how?”
Her fingers dug into my palm. “Crow. In the city.”
“Crow?” She was worried about a bird?
“My…alpha.”
Understanding dawned. “Your alpha’s name is Crow, and you think she’s the one behind the hit?”
She dipped her chin.
“But why?” I asked. “I understand why she’d put a hit out on me, but why you?”
Ridley moistened her cracked lips. I released her hand and brought the wine to her mouth again. She took a small sip, but when I tried to get her to drink more, she pushed the glass away.
I put it down and turned back to her. I would’ve preferred to tell her to rest, that it could wait, but her urgency had communicated itself to me.
I touched her cheek. “I’m listening.”
“Back at the Garnet. She was there.”
Understanding dawned. “The woman in the alley?”
Ridley nodded. “She took me off the op. Wanted to know where you were. I gave her an address…in Brooklyn.”
“I see.” I frowned, working it out in my head. “So you lied to your alpha. In fact, you should have left me last night. You shouldn’t even have met me in Times Square. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes. I’m…a rogue.”
“A rogue?” I sat back abruptly. “A rogue slayer?”
She squeezed her eyes shut like it hurt even to think it. “Yes.”
I swore under my breath. “So they want you dead. They put out a hit on both of us. It’s not my father, it’s SI. They’re trying to take us both out.”
“I don’t know. But maybe—?” She moved a shoulder. “I’m on your side now, Zaq. And my alpha wants you dead. I think she’s always wanted your whole family dead—you, your brothers, your father. And when she sets her sights on something, nothing stops her.”
The vampire beast awakened. I felt my eyes change, blue rimming the irises. When I spoke, my voice sounded harsh in my ears. “I’ll keep you safe.”
Her gaze bounced between my eyes. I knew she saw the vampire, but for the first time she didn’t recoil or tense. That was progress, and it calmed me a little.
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” she said.
“Too bad. They touch you, and I won’t stop until the whole damn organization goes up in flames.”
“No.” She moved her head from side to side against the pillow. “I…don’t want that.”
I growled. “You think I’m going to stand by and let them kill you?”
“Please.” She caught my hand, her breath coming in short, agitated pants. “I’ll help…as soon as…I’m better. But…wait.”
“Okay, okay.” I brought her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her soft skin. “Calm down. I’m not doing anything tonight anyway—I’m staying right here with you until I’m sure you’re better. Plus, Xavier is going to a Kral speakeasy to see what he can find out.”
“Okay.” She closed her eyes, the spurt of energy gone like she’d sprung a leak.
My heart constricted. She appeared so small and vulnerable against the gray sheets.
Enough. Stripping off my T-shirt, I got back into bed and brought her mouth to my throat.
“Drink, baby. Please. You have to get better.”
She made a small, negative sound and turned her head away.
“Damn it, Ridley.” I guided her back to my throat, but she’d passed out again.
I held her to my heart. “I’ll keep you safe,” I murmured, silently vowing to protect her with everything I had.
My position. My money. My life.
I left her sleeping and went into the living room to try and catch Xavier, but he’d already left, so I buzzed the second floor on the intercom and asked him to come back to the loft.
“Be right there,” he said.
He’d changed into a dark suit and crisp button-down shirt, required attire for the Ruby Speakeasy. No tie, though; Xavier didn’t don a tie for anything but funerals and mating rituals.
I explained what Ridley had told me about why she’d been targeted.
“A rogue?” He lifted a brow. “You sure she’s not playing you? A slayer will lie like a snake if they think—”
I cut him off with a slash of my hand. “She’s telling the truth.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do. Trust me.”
His expression changed. “She got to you. You’ve been fucking the bitch.”
My hand wrapped around his throat. We might be friends, but he’d just crossed a bright, hard line. “Don’t. Call. Her. That.”
A muscle in his jaw worked. “Sorry.”
I gave him a shake. “You will respect her, got it? She’s my woman.”
He dipped his chin.
I released him, blew out a breath. “We’re linked. That’s how I know she’s telling the truth. I can feel her emotions, and she meant it.”
His brows crawled up his forehead. “You mated a slayer?”
“Not yet. It’s still new—I just realized myself. I’m not sure if she knows it herself.”
Xavier smoothed down his jacket, straightened his shirt collar. “I’m sorry; I didn’t know.” This apology sounded sincere, unlike the first.
“Apology accepted,” I said with a curt nod. “I need you to get out there, see what you can find out. Who put up the money for the hit? Somebody has to know something. Start at the Ruby, but if SI is involved, you may have to work your underworld contacts. But be careful. From what George said, Spider didn’t know about the reward—and if he doesn’t know George attacked us first, he’ll be gunning for me.”
“Understood.”
“You have cash for bribes?”
“Fifty thou.”
“Good. If you need more, get it. I want answers, ASAP. But don’t go into the underworld itself—Spider knows you’re my chief of security. Oh, and transfer 50K to his account. I want to act as if nothing happened until I can work this out with him.”
“Got it.”
I waited until he left the loft, then headed for my office and my stash of burner phones. I’d decided to chance a call to Gabriel.
I hadn’t forgotten what Xavier had said about Mila undergoing the transition to dhampir. Gabriel must be standing guard over her gravesite, waiting and worrying until she’d made it safely through the transition. But I hoped he could give me a few minutes. He was smart and pragmatic, and closer to the top people in the syndicate than I was.
More importantly, he had Father’s ear. If anyone knew what Karoly Kral was thinking, it was my older brother.
Plus, the thing about George knowing Ridley was a princess niggled at me. There was something odd about this, some piece I still didn’t understand, and I was hoping Gabriel would have some insight on it.
I put a SIM card in a phone and activated the number. I sent a text with my identification code so Gabriel knew it was me, then pressed the Call button.
What I hadn’t figured on was my father answering instead of Gabriel. “Zaquiel? Is that you?”
I jolted, took the phone from my ear. Father must be out at Montauk with Gabriel, unless he was having my brother’s calls routed through him.
“Zaquiel?” he repeated. “Where are you?”
He sounded so normal. Like he hadn’t staked his own lieutenant last night.
He certainly didn’t sound like he believed I was a traitor who might be working with SI to plan a coup.
My heart hammered in my throat. I opened my mouth, then shut it again.
Part of me wanted to talk to him, to plead my case. But I flashed to Ridley, pale and helpless in my bed, and knew I couldn’t risk it. She was sick, unable to defend herself.
It was one thing to ask Father to forgive me for doubting him. But Ridley was a slayer, the slayer who’d kidnapped me and encouraged me to go after him. What if he insisted on taking her into custody, or even staked her on the spot?
Both parts of me—the vampire and human—snarled a hell, no. She was my mate, and I wasn’t letting my father anywhere near her until I was sure it was safe.
I hit End Call.
The screen immediately lit up with a return call from Gabriel’s number. I hit End Call a second time and powered off the phone.
I was pretty sure I hadn’t stayed on the call long enough for Father to track me, but I couldn’t take the chance. Removing the SIM card, I dropped it into a desk drawer along with the phone, then returned to the bedroom and Ridley.