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“Is the trap set?” Grim asked, his eyes on the woman who danced before him. Human. He liked the human dancers best. This one—her eyes smiled. Flirted. Her heart raced and all that sweet blood pumped with every sway of her body.
“Greg didn’t report in.”
At that news, Grim pulled his stare away from the woman. Music beat, a sensual rhythm, and he knew the human kept on slithering. “How long has he been missing?” He didn’t worry about guarding his words with the dancer. No need with her.
“An hour.” Malik—a vampire who’d been with him since the guy’s first Taken breath five hundred years before—met Grim’s gaze directly.
An hour was plenty of time to die. Grim rubbed his hand over his chin. “The parents are dead?” His Ignitor was such a useful tool. Weak package, but an incredible power inside.
“Their bodies should be found tomorrow.”
A quick tip to the cops, yes, that would do just fine. “And my brother?” Like he didn’t know the prick was around. The instant Tore had crossed the ocean, he’d felt the fool. He’d taken steps to prepare for him. Tore wouldn’t have an advantage in this hunt.
“No word yet.”
There wouldn’t be. “He won’t come for me.” Tore had learned his lesson the last time when Grim had left the dead children for him to find.
His brother had always had a soft spot for the kiddies.
When you knew someone so well, it was easy to work their weaknesses. He knew just how to make Tore suffer.
His brother had begged him for death over twelve hundred years ago. When he’d seen what Grim had become. When he’d found the bodies and known that he’d be the next to feel Grim’s fangs in his throat.
There’d been no controlling the bloodlust. No stopping the vicious thirst. But he hadn’t wanted to stop it. He’d just wanted to kill.
He’d granted his little brother’s wish. Too bad Tore hadn’t stayed down.
“He’ll be our next project,” Grim said, giving a nod. “It’s time we freed him from his torment.” A gift.
The music ended. He glanced over at the woman. Heaving chest. Glistening lips.
He’d screw her first.
Then kill her.
“It’s a pity. I always loved my brother.”
Malik didn’t speak. Didn’t call him a liar. Or a fool.
And Grim was both. After all, he’d let Tore survive for this long. He should have taken his head long ago.
But when his brother had woken—just like me.
Sentiment. Attachment. So yes, he had a soft spot for the man he’d known as his brother. Tore had tried to save him once, right before his father’s bitch of a new wife had betrayed them all.
Tore had come to him, worked to free him from the chains, but there hadn’t been enough time.
Too many warriors around them. Too much rage.
Blood eagle.
He squeezed his eyes shut but the memory of agony seared his flesh. His hands reached behind him, automatically touching his back.
No wings.
But he’d never forget, never. The snap of his ribs, the jerk backward?—
Death had not come fast enough as his blood spilled onto the ground.
