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And he was arrogant enough to believe he could have her.
But that wasn’t possible. Not now.
Not with what was coming next. And certainly not with what had come before.
Unless…
There was a chance. A thin one, but he had to take it. If it meant he could stay in Los Angeles, it was worth the risk. He took a quick glance around, making absolutely certain there was no human on the deck with him, then drew out his phone to call the one man in all the world who had both the power and—hopefully—the will to help him.
“Lucius.” The low timbre of the ancient vampire’s voice seemed to vibrate through the phone, the pleasure in his tone undeniable. “Are you in London?”
“I am not. I’m calling as kyne for the repayment of a debt.”
“Speak, then. As is your right,” Tiberius responded, using the ancient form proper to a request from one of the kyne, a secret brotherhood sworn to do the bidding of their leader in the Alliance, often undertaking missions without official sanction and which would be loudly and strongly denied by every Alliance representative.
“Judge Braddock is dead. Unless I run, I will be arrested, something that will inconvenience you as well as me, since if I am incarcerated or dusted, I will be little help to you.”
“You request a pardon.”
“I do.”
A moment passed, then another, and Luke knew the answer before the vampire leader spoke. “This I cannot grant. The life was not taken in service as kyne.”
“No,” Luke agreed. “But without the pardon, my usefulness will be limited. And there is also the bond of friendship to consider.”
“Luke.” The speaker was no longer the great leader, Tiberius, the Alliance representative for the vampires and governor of the Southern California territory, among others. Now, it was Tiber, the friend, and his regret was palpable. “You know I cannot. Not now, with the power struggle between the Therians and the Vampires balancing on a knife-edge.” The shapeshifters—particularly the werewolves—were a constant thorn in Tiberius’s side, and like little yipping dogs, they kept howling that they weren’t treated fairly within the Alliance.
“To do this thing for you could mean sacrificing all that our kind have gained over the last two centuries,” Tiberius continued. “Were Braddock’s life lost in service to your role as kyne,then I could perhaps make an exception. Otherwise, I am sorry, my friend.”
“As am I.”
“You will contact me when you can?”
Despite the circumstances, Luke grinned. Tiberius clearly understood that Luke had no intention of being incarcerated or dusted. And, if he could help surreptitiously, he would.
“I will,” Luke said. “And thank you.”
“Good luck, my friend,” Tiberius said, then ended the call.
Luke slipped the phone back into his pocket, forcing himself to ignore his disappointment. Lingering on it would do him no good.
With measured steps, he moved to one of the chaise lounges, then sat, his mind whirring as he sorted out what came next. He’d always known that disappearing for a century or two might become a necessity, and he always kept an escape route open. Now it was time to put the wheels in motion.
When he’d worked through the details in his head, he once again pulled out his phone and dialed, grateful when he heard the deep voice at the other end. “It’s time to repay your debt,” Luke said. “Let me explain exactly what I need.”
* * *
Less than an hour later, he had the path laid out, the various tasks assigned to either trusted friends or those eager to no longer be indebted to Lucius Dragos. Soon, it would be time to play his part.
Soon, but not quite yet. There was still one thing to do before he stepped into his role.
Slowly, he laid back against the lounger, his eyes open to the night sky. The lights of downtown Los Angeles had snuffed out the stars, but it didn’t matter. He knew each intimately, and he could picture their patterns above him. The constellations grinning down at him, calling him a fool.
They were right, too. He should walk away. Despite the ache in his chest that cried out that Sara was his, he knew that he should leave. To see her tonight would only torture them both.
And yet he knew that he would go to her anyway. How could he not? She was his obsession. His everything. Perhaps it made sense that he should be her tormentor, too.
With his own castigation playing in his head, he crossed the pool deck and entered the fifth floor lobby through the etched glass doors. He picked up the courtesy phone and punched in the number for Sara’s unit, then listened through four harsh beeps before he finally heard her soft, sleepy voice on the other end of the line.
