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“You’re right,” Philippe agreed.
Rafe blinked at him, looking thoroughly surprised. “I…I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say that to me.”
Philippe chuckled softly. “Truly?”
“Certainly not my brothers. Not one of us would ever admit to being wrong.”
He slid his hands up Rafe’s back; he loved the feel of muscles stretched over broad shoulders. “I can’t imagine any of you being so stubborn,” he teased.
“Most definitely.” Rafe leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to his forehead. “Now tell me, is there anyone else in your clan that is similar to Erik or Piper? Someone else who might be a good target.”
Philippe released Rafe and wandered over to a chair with a slightly faded plaid fabric. While not as fancy or even fashionable as anything he’d seen in Rafe’s penthouse, it was a comfortable enough chair. He sat down and rested his elbows on his knees. Rafe was right. They needed to focus on what could be done now to keep his people safe.
“Two. Peter and Ming. Both were over seventy when they were turned into vampires, but they’ve been with the Arsenault clan for well over a decade. Their combined age is nearly fifty in vampire years.”
“So, while possible targets, they wouldn’t be the easiest of prey,” Rafe said.
“Yes.”
“Anyone else?”
Philippe had been racking his brain since he’d received word of Piper’s murder. He didn’t know who could be a target. They all could be, but right now, only Peter and Ming fit the closest description of the victims so far.
“None. But in the meantime, I ordered that no one is allowed to leave this house alone. No one hunts alone. Everyone goes out in twos or threes. They are also to text myself, Jullien, or Ezra when they leave and return. At least until we know who the killer is.”
“Good plan. What can I do?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“May I speak to my family? Particularly Winter. He might be able to talk to someone that I haven’t thought of. He could have some guesses as to why your clan is being hit.”
“Please. Tell them whatever you must. This has to stop.”
Rafe walked over and placed his hand on Philippe’s bowed shoulder. “It will. We’ll figure this out.”
Silence settled over them for a moment and Rafe dropped his hand back to his side. “If you prefer, I’ll leave you alone. I can go…talk to Marcus…”
“The case. It’s your violin?” Philippe said just to keep Rafe from leaving. He was right that he should be alone with his clan, but he wasn’t ready. Not yet at least.
“Yes. I…I wasn’t thinking clearly when you called. I grabbed it on my way over. Whenever there was trouble, it was usually with my mother, and I’d need my violin. I guess…I guess I grabbed it out of habit. Doesn’t make much sense.”
Philippe’s heart broke a little at the embarrassed expression on Rafe’s face. “I’m so sorry about your mother’s death.”
“Thank you,” Rafe replied, his voice rough and his eyes locked on the floor.
“Did it help when you played?”
Rafe nodded.
“Would…would you play for me?”
Light returned to his dark-blue eyes at last, and he smiled at Philippe. “Of course.”
Sitting in his chair, he watched as Rafe picked up his case and set it carefully on the desktop. With quick, efficient movements, he prepared both the bow and violin. He checked the strings, tuning them quickly by ear, before turning toward Philippe.
With the bow in one hand and violin tucked under his chin, Rafe started playing. The song was familiar, a classic, though at that moment, Philippe couldn’t name it or the composer. He was lost to the magic Rafe was weaving around him. It was beautiful and elegant, soft and slightly forlorn. Rafe’s vampiric gift might be the ability to wipe minds and control actions, but his true gift in life was playing the violin.
Tears slipped down Philippe’s cheeks for Piper and his other lost clan members. He wept for the pain and fear the others were feeling.
And if he was being honest, he wept for himself and Rafe. He was falling for a man he knew he could never have.
Chapter Thirteen
Rafe rubbed his burning eyes and dropped his hand back to his side with a weary sigh. He didn’t think he’d managed to grab more than a couple of hours sleep before the sun was sinking below the horizon again. The traffic rushing down the street was little more than a blur. There were only a few people on the sidewalks in the dreary wet weather, but no vampires from what he could sense. At least, no vampires yet. He was still waiting on Philippe’s arrival.
He’d spent most of the previous night at the Arsenault clan house. It had been a while since he’d played for so many hours, but he hadn’t wanted to stop. The lines of worry had eased from Philippe’s face when Rafe played. A look of peace and tranquility sank over him. If he could give Philippe that for just a little while, then he’d play until his fingers bled.
