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The Tremblay prima hated my family. The war between her and my father, the Kral primus, dated back two hundred years, a blood feud with numerous casualties on both sides. Something to do with territory back in Slovakia where my father had been born and spent his first few centuries as a vampire.
However, the Kral-Tremblay blood feud was finished, and had been for nearly a decade. A treaty had been signed.
Why would Victorine Tremblay risk kidnapping Karoly Kral’s son? The Krals were more powerful than the Tremblays. She had to know my father would pull out all stops to rescue me—and then he’d go after her and her precious daughter.
My head throbbed. I inhaled through my teeth and waited it out.
So okay, the Tremblays had kidnapped me, and somehow the Paris Syndicate was involved too. I didn’t know whose mansion this was, but it was clearly owned by a vampire in the Paris Syndicate. Probably a high-ranking member.
An hour passed, maybe two. The silver seeped into my bloodstream, beginning the slow process of poisoning me. It burned and itched, spreading out until I ached everywhere, even in places where they hadn’t pounded on me.
Damn, I was uncomfortable. I shifted on my feet. Bent my knees, straightened them. Opened and closed my fingers.
The pricks could’ve let me sit down. Right then I would’ve given my last dollar for a few hours of sleep, but each time I drifted off, my body sagged and the cuffs seared into my wrists, waking me up. Sooner or later I’d pass out from exhaustion, and the gods knew what the silver would do to my wrists then.
From time to time, the cell’s tiny lights brightened—a small, barely noticeable change—but after it happened a few times I realized it was so security could check on me through the video feed.
Fuck that.
I turned my head and bared my teeth at the cams until the lights dimmed again.
Night fell. I couldn’t see the setting sun, of course, but I sensed the change. I’d been standing here for what—twelve, thirteen hours?
Father would come for me. I just had to hang on. By now he’d have realized I’d gone missing. He’d known I was on my way home. I’d texted him and my older brother Gabriel when I’d landed in Paris.
My aching body had stiffened. I wasn’t used to healing so slowly. Usually, my dhampir blood sped the healing process, but the silver was interfering with my magic.
I bent my knees again. Straightened them. Opened and closed my fingers.
And stifled a groan, because it hurt like a mofo. I gritted my teeth and did it again. And once more after that.
Étan entered my cell. I looked past him for Reaper, but he was alone.
“You’re awake.” He prowled across the short distance between us, panther-quiet.
I lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t need much sleep.”
It was a lie. I was bone-tired and on top of that, I hadn’t drunk fresh blood since leaving New York six weeks ago. The pain from the silver was a constant agony.
Étan raked his gaze down my body like I was a thrall and he was deciding whether or not to hire me. “So you’re Zaquiel Kral. You don’t look like a rich prince to me.”
“Yeah?” I looked him up and down in return. “Well, you sure look like a hairless dick.”
His muscles locked. He shoved gleaming white fangs into my face. “Someone should teach you some manners.”
I knew I should shut up, but I was tired and hurting and humiliated. “Go fuck yourself.”
Étan grabbed my throat. His eyes flared with the distinctive neon blue of an aroused vampire.
I kneed him in the balls. It was pure instinct, but I’d have done it even if I’d had time to think it over.
He grunted and let go of me to grab his crotch. He stumbled backward, hands clutching his groin. “Vous—.” He ground out something vicious in French.
I eyed him, knowing he’d come back at me hard, and I couldn’t escape.
I couldn’t even use my arms to defend myself.
The simmering anger boiled over. My face heated and my vision clouded. It takes a lot to make me angry, but once the lid’s off, I’m not satisfied until I’ve kicked some ass.
