Page 51 of Viktor

“It’s true that I need your help with the painting, but can you just help me sort this thing out? I’d ask Quintus or Hunter, but they just became bonded with mates. Look at it as teambuilding. Healing the brotherly relationship. You know about art. And wolves.”

“I don’t know—”

“I’m sure you heard I’ve got a hybrid. He’s a handful and I need help.”

“Heard all about it from Quintus. I was quite surprised, given you’ve no children.” Greyson sipped his wine and released a loud exhale. “Ah, fuck. I’m not here to help you with your baby vamp. If you didn’t want a child, you shouldn’t have sired one.”

“It’s complicated. It wasn’t exactly planned. But what’s done is done.” Viktor shrugged.

“So, what’s the issue? Sounds like you’ve done better in a few months than our sire did in a lifetime.”

“A lifetime of torture,” Viktor reminded his brother.

“You know that’s right.”

“The thing is, well, Rafe may still need guidance. He doesn’t wish to return to his pack. And you can see how this may be an issue.”

“It can take many years to fully train a vampire. Or so I’m told.”

“Baxter didn’t train us. He turned us into slaves.” Viktor looked to Waverly who sat at the bar. She gave him a sympathetic smile. She’d only seen but a fraction of the abuse.

“Yeah, well, it didn’t stop Quint from turning others. He got on with things. But you? Me?” He sighed and looked into his glass. “It was never in the cards.”

“I don’t regret what I did. In that moment, I couldn’t let Rafe die,” Viktor explained.

“Guess ole Baxter didn’t beat the humanity out of ya after all, did he?”

“Not for lack of trying,” Viktor agreed, his voice soft. “But I won’t do that to Rafe. He had no choice in his turning. It won’t be an easy path, but his life can be good again. He can be whole.”

Viktor stole a glance at Waverly and then changed the subject, unwilling to acknowledge the feelings gripping his chest. He shook them off, focusing on the task at hand.

“I don’t normally ask you for anything. It’s been years. I just need—"

“I’ll help,” Greyson gritted out, setting his glass on the counter. “Where’s my room?”

“Take the third floor. Tomorrow morning I’ll grab Rafe. Flash him back here.”

“We should look at the painting now,” Waverly insisted.

“It’s late.” Viktor moved toward her, noting her reddened eyes.

“But I can do this now. If your brother…if Greyson knows about art, I need to know more about it.”

“It’s one in the morning. You need to get some rest. I promise you we’ll start fresh in the morning.”

“But—” she began.

“Viktor’s right. Humans need to sleep. You’ll get sick,” Greyson told her.

“I’m not tired.” Waverly clenched her face as she attempted to hide a yawn.

“He’s right. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow,” Viktor said.

“You must realize your limitations as human.” Greyson glanced at his brother. “Um what I mean is that, uh, you seem like a smart human. You may not know but us vampires must rest too. You know, keep up our strength for all that killing and whatnot.”

The color drained from Waverly’s cheeks and Viktor frowned at him.

“Did I say killing? What I meant was, well, not killing per se. You know. We’ve got business. We’re businessmen,” he corrected. “Entrepreneurs need sleep. Not as much as humans but—”