But Malcolm’s silence spoke volumes.
“RenaultDuchanes?” Dorian slammed his glass on the end table. “You can’tpossiblybe serious, Mac.”
“Alliances are rarely perfect,” Malcolm said. “Simply a means to an end.”
“What you’re proposing is a means toourend—one Duchanes would gladly usher in.”
“His is the only greater house willing to work with us.”
“And why do you suppose that is? Because they’ve taken pity on us in our time of need? Because Renault is just an all-around decent fellow?”
“Father’s legacy—”
“You’re so concerned about father’s legacy, you’re willing to destroy what’s left of it by playing high-stakes Monopoly with blood slavers and sex traffickers?” Dorian rose from his chair and turned toward the hearth, wishing he could dive right into the flames, let them consume him as readily as hellfire. “If that’s all we’ve got to offer, maybe it’s time to let our legacy die.”
“And do what?” Malcolm snapped. “Crawl into the crypt with Father? Is that what you wish?”
Dorian ran his fingers along the mahogany mantle, remembering all the times he and his brothers had stolen into Father’s study in West Sussex, giggling as they snuck forbidden glimpses at his illustrated anatomy books. “Perhaps it’s where we belong.”
Colin, ever the peacemaker, stood and placed a hand on Dorian’s shoulder. Dorian forced himself not to recoil, despite the burn of shame in his gut.
“Don’t speak of such things, brother,” Colin said. “We’ll find the answers.”
He closed his eyes, wishing he alreadyhadthe answers.
More than anything, he wanted to make this right for them, whether they planned to return to New York permanently, or they walked out of his life tomorrow without a backward glance.
But how could he?
Since the turning, Dorian had been taught to believe vampires held all the power. They were at the top of the supernatural food chain, stronger and deadlier than the other races, their blood coveted for its magical and healing properties by witches and lesser beings alike. They outnumbered demons and shifters by threefold and could much more easily grow their ranks—with or without human consent.
But what experience and pain had shown him was thatalliancesheld the power. It just so happened that vampires—particularly the oldest, wealthiest families like his—had no shortage of eager allies.
Until the great cock-up of 1972—Dorian’sgreat cock-up—when he’d failed to protect their bonded witch from an attack and, in the bloody aftermath, the witches cut ties, nearly all the prominent families turned their backs on House Redthorne, and his brothers vanished from his life.
Now, by a chance order of birth and the twist of fate that had killed his immortal father, Dorian was the rightful vampire king. His family had money—more than they could spend in a hundred lifetimes. They had stocks and art collections valued in the billions. Luxury automobiles that filled the wet dreams of lesser men. Property in more than a dozen countries, and businesses in twice as many.
But when it came to trusted friendships, to partners, to those precious allies that secured true power, they had nothing. At a time when the greater families were vying for power, the lesser vampires were growing restless, and demons were quickly encroaching on their territory, Dorian and his brothers stood virtually alone.
He thought again of Chernikov’s demons, the attack in the park. His own dulled instincts, the ache behind his eyes, the mental fog. All the ailments he’d once been magically spelled against—something he’d taken for granted when he had access to a bonded witch.
And if any of their enemies discovered his father’s weakness? The same weakness that likely ran through the entire Redthorne line?
The royal family was in deep shit—more than their father had admitted to Dorian. More than Dorian would admit to his brothers now.
But aligning with Duchanes was not the answer.
“So you’d rather do nothing?” Gabriel shook his head. “How utterly predictable of you.”
Dorian curled his hand into a fist on the mantle, then released it, letting out a sigh. He hadn’t planned to reveal his strategy to his brothers, but without it, they’d surely stage a coup.
More importantly—a fact Dorian was loath to admit—they’d shown up. They remained in his home even now, despite the tension and bickering. For how long, he couldn’t say. But tonight, the surviving Redthorne Royals were present and accounted for. His brothers were home, looking to him for guidance, whether they’d readily acknowledge it or not.
He owed them.
“Nothing could be farther from the truth.” Dorian finally turned to face them again. “I’m in the process of acquiring Armitage Holdings.”
“As in… Lucien Armitage?” Colin asked. “The old mage?”
