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“I’ve sent Lan to deliver the news, sire, along with reparations and the standard choices.”
“Good.” I take a long sip of the whiskey, enjoying the rich peat heat, but it isn’t enough to wash the taste of Eloise away. Jedidiah’s execution was warranted but I hadn’t maintained my position as king for this long by bloodshed alone. His family, the supposed reason he’d sold Rapture outside of my regulations, will be taken care of until they are able to do so themselves. If they do not wish to accept my judgment, then they will be given one week’s time to leave the Nightshade’s territory.
Considering how it spans multiple states in this country, they’ll need every day of that time.
And if any of his family tries to take revenge for the vampire’s death, I’ll have each one of them slaughtered, no matter their age.
“This fucking Rapture leak is becoming troublesome,” I say before taking another sip of whiskey then abandoning it on my desk. I go to the window where my pen is embedded in the glass and rip it out. It’s ruined, of course, but it isn’t what holds my attention. My gaze travels along the narrow spiderweb of cracks left in the window and invisible to the human eye. Jedidiah was one of those cracks, but who is the damn center, the one who was digging into my kingdom? And how has a human found information when my spies haven’t?
“Do you think the human found a lead we haven’t?”
“Perhaps. If so, Kasar knows what to do.”
If Deidre is alive, Kasar will find her. The vampire is nearly as old as me, though he’s never cared for leadership. I’m the judge and jury, and Kasar is my executioner. I slide my hands into my pockets, my right hand curling around the coin there, its surface worn away after so many years. The crowd below moves like a living creature, unaware of the watchful gaze of a vicious predator. I know the legal maximum capacity of Noir is just over three hundred, and the crowd’s approaching that number.
I can slaughter them all in minutes, humans and vampires alike. I’d fill that room with blood, inches deep. I’d slaughtered hundreds before, and I will again. I’m too experienced with the ways of the world to think otherwise.
With Eloise’s blood burning inside me, I’d be faster and stronger than before. I wouldn’t need to go into a blood frenzy to tear limbs apart and rip throats out.
I squeeze the coin harder, the edge digging into my palm in silent reprimand.
“Rapture sales are steady on the street. Lush is at half capacity tonight, so sales are down but that’s to be expected.”
I hum in agreement. Lush is another of my clubs, another location where the supernatural come to play under my protection. Despite its name, it has a fiercer reputation and only the most brash or daring humans venture within. If Noir is whispered temptation and teasing touches, Lush is metal handcuffs and riding crops. I listen to Malachi as he continues, only sparing him a fraction of my attention.
Rapture is highly sought after; a drug that offers those without magic a taste of it. A taste of the supernatural life. If left unregulated, it can destroy my territory and the humans within it. We vampires do not hide our existence from the humans in power anymore. Fuck, I have the elected officials in my pockets to ensure their cooperation. It’s astounding, though, what mental justifications and explanations the human mind can conjure when faced with my kind.
I do not hide, and yet, so much of the human population still clings to the belief that we only exist in legends and stories. That vampires are like Count Dracula, a legend evolved from a very mortal, very brutal dictator. Demons only exist in television shows or the delicate paper of their bibles. Animals are only ever animals and never able to shift into human form.
Stories don’t sink their fangs into a human’s neck and feast.
If the distribution of Rapture becomes uncontrolled, those humans in Topside will be forced to confront their nightmares. I’ve lived through that too many times to allow it to happen again. Humans respond to their fears with violence. They turn on each other as easily as they turn on us.
It’s why I control the drug with an iron fist. When I’d first discovered its creation, I knew there was no way of stopping its spread. So I brought the demon into the Nightshades and controlled the flow instead.
And now there is someone out there fucking with my years of carefully laid plans. Someone is trying to take away my control.
Once I’d consider it was Markus and those who followed him—a descendent of Queen Mishena—who’d been obsessed with bringing all shifters under his control through his daughter. I appreciated the bloody poetry of Jemma killing Markus with her mates at her side. While vampires and wolf shifters seldom get along, the Blackfang Barons are now staunch allies with my Nightshade vampires.
His death, and the dissolution of his followers, had no impact on the Rapture leaks, making it clear he had no hand in it.
Malachi falls silent and I raise a hand to dismiss him but pause halfway through the movement.
“I’m done here for the night,” I say, turning on my heel. “Keep watch and deal with any issues.”
It’s a matter of moments, my thoughts struggling for clarity against the thrum of Eloise’s blood in my veins, before I’m pulling on my double-breasted peacoat as I exit the club through my private hatch on the roof. The rain has lessened to a drizzle, but the clouds block out the light of the moon, leaving the Barrows to glow neon from the streets below.
I need to hunt. To give in to the monster within and let it prowl the streets and search out the hidden threat buried underneath the cobblestone streets of Oldgate. I close my eyes, rolling my neck, as I inhale deeply. I’m assaulted by a maelstrom of scents. Sex, death, pain, fear, alcohol, blood, piss, vomit, trash and rotting food and flesh—all the scents of a city under a siege of its own desires.
I focus on one scent. It shouldn’t be strong enough to cut through the sewage of the city and yet it’s the only one I can focus on. Baring my fangs, I bellow rage and defiance across the uneven rooftops.
I have my target, even if it’s not the one I should be hunting.
Eloise’s scent taunts me, a whisper growing fainter the further she travels away from me.
Fine. I will hunt this human and discover why she has such a strong hold over me. I could simply return to my home and wait for her there, but no... that will not do at all, I think as I step onto the edge of the building. The drop is over four stories, practically a promise of death if a mortal fell from this height.
I take a step, the wind screaming in my ears as gravity asserts its dominance over my form. Like my foes, I deny it my death, landing on my feet without fear. A few high-pitched screams from the women at the front of alley have me snarling in distaste. They stumble back into the better lit streets, their outfits leaving very little to the imagination, and each one of them smells of Rapture. Not even the drug can overcome their primal instincts warning them of the danger I present.
