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“Meaning there are Mijai who are?”
He nodded. “I am a simple warrior, but there are some who specialize in more specific areas.”
“There’s nothing simple about you, Azriel.”
“On the contrary,” he replied. “I work and I live. That is the existence of a reaper, and I am no different from any of my brethren.”
“What about playing? Loving? Having families, stuff like that?”
“I live in a family unit, if that is what you mean.”
I glanced at the floor indicator, suddenly wishing it would slow down. Azriel wasn’t usually this chatty when it came to himself, and I really wanted to make the most of it.
“Family unit as in mom, dad, and siblings, or family unit as in wife and kids?”
“We do not pair up in the manner that you do here.”
“Which doesn’t answer the actual question.”
His smile briefly touched the corners of his eyes. “Indeed, it does not.”
“In other words, mind my own business,” I said, mentally swatting at hormones dancing about in the lingering warmth of that smile, with little effect. “Which, I may point out, is not entirely fair, given you’ve got access to my life and my thoughts.”
“I agree, it isn’t fair. But for the moment, that is how it has to be.”
“Oh yeah, got to maintain the status quo,” I said, the mirth in my voice giving way to a deeper edge of annoyance. “The one where you know everything and I know nothing.”
The elevator slid to a smooth stop and the doors dinged open, revealing dark marble and warm, subtle lighting. Unlike most penthouse elevators that I’d seen, this one opened into a small foyer area rather than the apartment itself. Dark glass doors dominated the three walls, all of them closed.
“If I knew everything, I would not be here,” he said all too reasonably as he followed me out of the elevator.
“And if you told me everything you knew, then maybe you could get out of here sooner,” I bit back, stopping in the middle of the foyer and wondering what the hell I was supposed to do now.
“Knowing whether I have what you would term a mate has no bearing on this case or on what we seek to do.”
“I know.” No one appeared to be coming for us, and I was half tempted to just get back into the elevator. It was only the knowledge that the high council wanted results or death that kept me standing there. “Forget I mentioned it.”
I could feel his gaze on my back—a weight that, oddly, seemed to demand that I turn around and look at him. I ignored the urge, listening intently. Somewhere in the silence of the rooms beyond, someone was moving. But whether they were actually coming to fetch us, I couldn’t tell.
“I do not,” Azriel said quietly.
Something inside me unclenched, and I finally looked over my shoulder and met his gaze.
“I am Mijai,” he continued. “It is not practical for us to consider a Caomh.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I gather Caomh means ‘mate’? And since when does practicality ever come into it?”
“Caomh is a whole lot more than merely a mate,” he said, his gaze moving past me. “A thrall comes.”
Surprise flitted through me—as much for the fact that I hadn’t sensed the approach as for the fact that Catherine Alston had created a long-lived servant. From what I understood, it was considered bad form for vampires to have thralls. But maybe Alston simply didn’t care. And maybe other vampires did have them, but they just hid their existence better.
The middle door opened. The man who stood there was brown-haired and brown-eyed, with a pleasant, open expression. He wasn’t a man who’d stand out in a crowd or linger in the mind, and he looked to be in his mid-twenties.
Except he smelled older than that.
Much older.
He was also armed. There was a slight bulge under his right arm, and if the prickly heat crawling across my skin was anything to go by, it was loaded with silver bullets.
