Chapter Eight

Riding on top of a double-decker bus, Kenoe looked up to the mid-morning sky. He missed the dusky blue heavens with their occasional wisp of clouds, tuned out the excited chatter of the tourists across the aisle snapping pictures and barely noticed the automated tour guide’s voice call out his stop. British Museum, Great Russell Street. He hopped off the bus and strode the six-minute walk to the British Museum ticket counter. The closer he got to the front door, the faster his boots moved. His stomach clenched with a funny little flip flop and landed somewhere between pleased as punch and melancholy blue, happy to be there yet acutely aware of the jagged cavern where the missing pieces of his heart should be.

Once through the front doors, a wash of relief poured over his soul like a soothing balm of peace. Whenever Kenoe came to London, he couldn’t stay away from this museum. Today he’d hoped to enjoy it with his best friend, but if their plan was working, then Alaan was well on the way to realizing Tameth was his mate. Hopefully they were knee-deep in hot vampire sex right about now.

He lowered his head on a sigh. Tameth needed someone like Alaan—someone who, though a bit gruff and sharp around the edges at times, would be fiercely loyal to her. Alaan would protect her, though she needed very little protection, considering her Class Six rank. But most importantly, Alaan could do something Kenoe would never be able to—love her.

God, he wished he could. It wasn’t because he’d lied and told her he was gay, but because the concept involved a certain measure of give and take. And Kenoe had already given more than he ever wanted to, had enough taken from him in his life. So, although it damned near ripped his heart out, he’d resigned himself to holding Tameth when she needed it, lent his ear when she wanted to talk, and even gave the occasional pussy lashing with his talented Hatsept tongue when she needed physical release. And while he gave to Tameth, he couldn’t bring himself to receive from her, take from her. Besides, she didn’t really want him “like that”. The woman’s heart belonged to Alaan and Kenoe would do nothing to take away her dream of being with him. Not the way others had taken the dreams he was prepared to take back.

This was the first time he’d set foot in London in years. Though none of his missions as a Seeker had brought him here, he’d stayed away mostly due to common sense and self-preservation. After all, running into the person he’d feared for most of his life had been the last thing he’d wanted.

He snorted and kicked the thoughts away, refusing to accept his own line of thinking. Damn, he’d moved further along than this, had healed more than this. Yet even now, the bottom of his stomach threatened to boil over, hot with anger at the past that reared its head. The old demons laughed at and haunted him. Kenoe fought against and broke the chains that had held his emotions in bondage as effectively as steel shackles. But no more. Never again. This time, he refused to be bound.

His face a schooled mask of cool confidence, Kenoe kept up his leisurely pace and pushed down the anxious need to run for his destination. His feet automatically took him to the permanent Japanese exhibit in the Asian department. It never ceased to amaze him how deeply moved he was every time he ventured to this part of the museum. His stomach knotted with a different kind of anxiousness just before the bottom fell out. Homesickness, like the longing for a lost lover, assailed his heart.

From Clan Li and its members of Asian descent, to Clan Akicit and their Native American-descended warriors, the vampire clans consisted of just about every race on the planet. The humans of those cultures might not know they had vampire cousins, but they existed all the same. Yet none stirred his soul like the Japanese. Something about the place and its people made him long for the light of that world to stir and diminish the darkness of his lonely soul.

As he stood and took in the detail of an exquisite piece of ancient metalwork, Kenoe felt lonesome, yet more than comfortable in his skin. He’d long since banished the demons that had haunted him every day and night for years after escaping the most loathsome creature ever born—Lowan Hatsept-Shean, his half-brother.

Kenoe knew his clan was ill thought of throughout the vampire nation. After spending time under Lowan’s boot heel for what seemed like an eternity, he understood the perception. Actually he owed Lowan some thanks. If it hadn’t been for that asshole, Kenoe would have never pursued Seekerhood, would have never had the courage or determination to make it through the grueling training. Only ten of every thirty Seekers ever made it out of the Academy, and fewer still moved past the Beta ranks to full-fledged honors. But he’d made it past Beta, past full honors to elite status. And he’d made it for a reason—revenge.

Pushing the dark thoughts away, he admired a sixteenth-century set of imperial armor. In that moment, in the middle of the British Museum, the pieces snapped into place and settled to form a picture in Kenoe’s heart. He knew exactly what he needed to do. As soon as this hunt was over, he would ask for a leave of absence from the Seeker corps and begin a new journey.

No sooner had the realization of the next phase of life imprinted itself in his mind, than Kenoe’s enhanced senses picked up a scent. A scent that made his fingers encircle the handle of the samurai katana sheathed in the hidden compartment of the front panel of his long leather trench coat.

He’d seen plenty of vampires in the museum today. A few had even noted the distinct style of his coat, stopped and paid their respects to him as a Seeker, then moved on. But this odor all but burned the fine hairs inside his sensitive nose. There was a Hatsept near. A rogue Hatsept. Kenoe could easily tell the difference in smell and demeanor of his own kind. And there was no mistaking the distinct stench of a Hatsept gone bad. Too bad it wasn’t Lowan—a scent he’d never forget. Nor forgive.

With no time to call for backup, Kenoe raised his eyes, tilted his head sideways and appeared intrigued as he studied the movements of every person reflected in the glass. His limber body remained loose and ready to engage.

Interesting. Whoever it was kept his distance, just far enough out of range of the wall of glass housing the exhibit.

“Fine,” Kenoe muttered to himself. The small, strong muscles that controlled the release and retraction of his fangs twitched with tension. “Let’s get this over with, asshole.”

Backing up as if he hadn’t a care in the world, a pissed off Seeker moved off to the next display case, then the next. The hairs on the back of his neck kept dancing. If anything they moved with more vigor as his skin tightened and flushed from a rush of battle-anticipated adrenaline.

A throng of tourists moved his way. Not good. He didn’t see anyone familiar but his enemies could easily slide into a crowd, maneuver him into a corner and quietly attack. To everyone else they would appear as a group of friends standing in a tight pack talking and laughing, while he’d be getting jumped in the middle of a pack of rabid disowned vampires.

As the group approached, he changed direction and stopped in the middle of the wide, brightly-lit main hall. Away from any walls, alcoves or niches, Kenoe slid his cell phone out of his pocket and flipped it open.

“So, where are you? Yeah, I’m looking around, but I don’t see you.” He spoke with enough volume to be heard over almost everyone in the museum, laughing and joking, his voice loud and clear. Not even a group of idiots would attack a Seeker if they believed others were nearby.

“Oh, okay. Uh-huh. Yep, I’m just an exhibit away. I’ll see you in a sec.” The phone closed with a snap. And during that short conversation with himself, he’d managed to scope out the entire area and everyone in it. But his eyes had to be playing tricks on him. He could have sworn he sighted a female vamp following him. She was a slight little thing, beautiful in a pixie kind of way. Not at all his type. Kenoe liked his women with meat on their bones, feminine with a solid dose of inner and physical strength slipped in for good measure. Kind of like Tameth—all woman, yet she could hold her own in a fair or unfair fight with the best of ‘em. And she had the nicest ass this side of creation…well, next to Dr. Carinian Bixler who happened to be a good friend of Tameth’s. Those two women in a room together could set the pulses of a dead vampire to racing. Muscular, but with miles of curves and personalities to match.

The female he’d spotted had dark hair and even darker eyes. Strange, she lacked the distinct white hair and bluish-white eyes of a Clan Hatsept member, but she sure as hell smelled like one. A female resident of one of the local harems, perhaps? But that didn’t make any sense, either. She smelled of rogue. Clan Hatsept had very few outlaws on the Council track-em-down-and-kill-em list. Those with the dishonor of being hunted weren’t foolish enough to set up house while constantly on the run. Even in their briefing about this current mission, there was no mention of Lowan indulging in the Hatsept tradition of harem-keeping. As far as the Council knew, Lowan was keeping a low profile somewhere in the city, and none of their informants had caught hide or hair of him since Kenoe and his teammates had arrived in London.

Strange. As quickly as he’d spotted the female, she disappeared. Perhaps he’d been so bent and ready for a scuffle, he’d imagined the whole thing? But he’d tell Alaan about it later just to be on the safe side. In the meantime, he would enjoy the rest of his day, firm up his travel plans, and admire the warrior class weapons of the samurai as he palmed his personal replica of one of the ancient works of art hidden underneath his coat.

 

 

 

The cell phone perched on the little tray table at Myles’ elbow vibrated and hummed. He hated being interrupted in the middle of a snack. He removed his incisors from the donor and licked his lips. Though he no longer savored the rich, sweet blood flowing from the small incisions left on the long, muscular column of the donor’s throat, the man didn’t move an inch. No surprise there. Every member of Lowan’s stable was well-trained, just as Myles’ security members were well-trained.

He answered the phone and snapped, “Yeah, make it quick.”

“It’s Seth, sir,” a deep, irritated voice responded. Myles listened to the report of his Second on the other end of the line. No longer relaxed, he swung his legs over the side of his favorite chaise lounge and sat forward. Tension leached into his shoulders and settled at the base of his skull. Shit, he was going to have a headache. When the other man stopped talking, Myles’ teeth clenched tightly as he spoke softly into the mouthpiece.

“Were you seen?” he asked.

“No,” the voice crackled across the static-filled line. “I’m sure he sensed us but we kept our distance and were able to remain hidden. But Sher got too close and…”

Sher? What the hell did she have to do with any of this? Myles pressed the phone so close to his tightly drawn mouth, a single sharp incisor pierced his upper lip. “What about Sher?” he snarled. A trickle of blood ran down over his bottom front teeth and onto his tongue.

“She was at the museum, sir.”

“What?” Myles bellowed into the phone. His arm shot out and smacked the person closest to him—the handsome, athletically-built young man baring his slender neck for Myles’ pleasure. The man scrambled back and away. He rose from the floor, picked up his T-shirt off the carpet and slipped it on over his head. With a toss of his head, he strode from the room with all the dignity of a…of whatever clan he’d been affiliated with before he went rogue and joined Lowan’s stable. Myles watched the young man go with little interest. With the news he’d just received, he didn’t have time to worry about one vampire’s impertinence. But working on the pup's social skills could wait until after he'd delivered this information to Lowan.

“I don’t know why she was there but I’m sure the Seeker we were tailing got a good look at her. Even if he didn’t recognize her, her presence kept us from carrying out the operation.”

Myles gritted his teeth, relieved the team he’d sent out had used good judgment, yet annoyed they weren’t able to complete the mission. If they’d gone ahead and things had gotten messy, Sher would have been right in the middle of it. Damn it!

Ear pressed to the phone, Myles listened closely as his Second laid out the details of what he’d seen and heard. And how Sher had screwed it all up. Lowan needed to keep a tighter leash on his spoiled little pet. She was already too full of herself. If it were up to Myles, he’d paddle her ass until it was raw. Fucking woman! What the hell was she thinking, walking into the middle of his carefully laid plans?

And the news only got worse, sending Myles’ blood pressure barreling up to the top of his head. Bloody hell! He did not need this right now. For once, why couldn’t his snitches be wrong? Alaan Serati, complete with a full team of kick-ass-first-ask-questions-later elite Seekers in London was not a good fucking thing. This particular team wouldn’t even have to take him or Lowan back to V.C.O.E. headquarters to stand before the Council. Serati was bad enough, but Seeker Collins was with them. Both a Seeker and an Iudex judge, Collins had the authority to impose whatever sentence he felt necessary, even order their heads cut off on the spot. And if Sher was discovered in their company, Alaan Serati would take entirely too much pleasure in such an act.

Then there was Kenoe.

Myles snapped the phone closed, wanting nothing more than to crush the damned thing in his palm and throw it across the room. Rising from his seat with a resigned sigh, he left his suite and headed to the throne room. He didn’t look forward to meeting with Lowan. He and his old friend were the only Hatsepts in this harem. All the other vampires were rogues from various clans, the most notorious bunch alive.

With that son of a bitch’s unpredictable temper, Myles would rather face ten rogues right now than one Lowan Hatsept-Shean.

 

 

Myles entered the huge double doors of Lowan’s room. One wall was full of windows enhanced by black on black window treatments and valances. The drapes were held back with silver cord and allowed bright sunlight to flow in, engulfing the bed with a lounging Lowan in the middle of it.

Thankfully, even rogues who spent little time out in the sunlight could get their hands on bootlegged meds to help keep their allergies under control. The suite was one huge, spotless, white-tiled space with no walls—something about Lowan not liking to feel hemmed in. The first thing visible when one walked in was an ornate throne, the symbol of absolute rule in this place. The bedroom was marked by a plush, light gray carpet. A large glass dining table sat across the room on a creamy white carpet. Except for a small enclosure with a door for the toilet, even the bathroom was visible.

Myles passed the elaborate red carpet with the pharaoh’s throne at its center, and strode to the area that served as Lowan’s bedroom.

“You. Off,” Myles snapped. With those two words, the woman perched on Lowan’s backside massaging his shoulders went scrambling. She stood next to the bed covered with a garment so sheer she may as well have been naked. And what a lovely body, with endless creamy skin covering lush curves, wide hips and a spankable ass. In spite of his angry, clipped words, her expression held no fear as she stood quietly next to the bed and awaited the next order. The higher ranked males might be able to boss her around, but no one was allowed to touch her without Lowan’s permission.

Their clan’s harem rules dictated that their women be treated like queens. Even rogues obeyed that rule…after breaking the females in, of course—a nasty but necessary business.

Muffled by an oversized pillow, Lowan grumbled, “This had better be important, Myles.”

Myles kept his distance knowing the man didn’t like having his daily massage interrupted. Probably because it was almost always followed by some hot, sweaty and fabulously well-trained sex. Clearing his throat, Myles pressed on. May as well get this over with.

“Seth just checked in. The informants were right. There’s a team of Seekers in London.”

“Don’t waste my time, Myles.”

“We’ve been following this particular group with the intent of ascertaining exactly where they came from. Our regulars in Knightsbridge brought them to our attention, then disappeared.”

“Big deal. We already knew they were missing and there are Seekers in every city. No surprise there,” Lowan mumbled.

“Not elite special weapons and tactics Seekers, Lowan. These are heavy hitters. They could have only been dispatched by the Council.”

An involuntary tremor snaked its way through his limbs as he waited for the explosion.

“What else?” Lowan asked impatiently, forcing himself to remain sprawled underneath the covers. Covers that had suddenly lost their warmth.

“Seth’s team trailed one of the Seekers to Bloomsbury district, to the British Museum. The Seeker our men followed today was…”

“I am fast losing patience with you, Myles. What, already?”

“The Seeker we followed today turned out to be your brother, Kenoe. And worse, Sher botched the abduction. They were moving in to try and take him when she popped up. Bitch.”

“Watch your mouth, Myles. It is, after all, your fault that so-called bitch is in our service, hm?” The words flowed off his tongue easily enough, but inside, Lowan’s blood steamed. Myles probably expected him to jump from the bed and beat everyone in sight to a gory pulp, but in truth, Lowan just didn’t feel like it. This little revelation gave him too much to think about to waste his energy pounding flesh.

“Yeah, I remember,” Myles grumbled. “Unfortunately.”

So, Kenoe Hatsept-Thrace, the proverbial pain in his ass, was in London. Now, that was news, and not necessarily bad. He would love to become reacquainted with his little brother. Perhaps pick up where they’d left off all those years ago when Kenoe had fled the harem after their father’s death. His mind reeled with the possibilities of getting his hands on Kenoe and persuading him to join the family business. Hmm, his brother was a Seeker, an elite Council assassin and working with Alaan Serati, at that. He couldn’t believe it. But there was still one thing he needed to know.

“Is Sher on her way back, Myles?” Before the man could answer, a familiar female scent tickled Lowan’s nose. Without bothering to roll over to face his Second or the woman who’d entered the room, Lowan ended the conversation. His own essence mixed with hers and lingered on every inch of the lovely skin making its way to his bed.

“Never mind, Myles. Just find out where that overgrown Serati asshole’s team is staying and get back to me. And give me a couple of hours,” Lowan murmured on an even intake of breath, anticipating the treat of pure feline grace that approached. “I expect to be busy for a while.”

Lowan rolled to his back and motioned to the silent long-legged beauty still awaiting instruction. “And take her with you.”

Lowan watched him turn on a dime, shoo the female out and depart without a word, back straight and jaw tight with rage. There weren’t many who managed to get under his Second’s skin, but Sher was an expert at it. Lowan almost smiled at the fury rolling off the man as he made eye contact with no one, not even the men under his command, all dressed in tactical gear guarding the doors that slid silently open at his approach. And he certainly didn’t spare a glance for the woman now crawling into the big bed, who Myles considered little more than an inconvenient imp.

Lowan lowered his head on a sigh. Sher. Sooner or later, he’d have to do something about her.