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Brien entered the parlor, closing the door behind him. “Drinking, sweet?” he murmured with a glance at the shot glass. “Am I that bad of a lover?”
The shock of seeing him after all these months had worn off. Instead, I was disappointed. Angry.
He shouldn’t have been at that auction; he was the last vampire I’d have figured to be involved in the slave trade. Apparently, all that blond perfection hid a slimy worm of an inside.
I slammed the whiskey glass down on the wet bar. “Don’t call me ‘sweet.’ And you’re not going to be my lover at all.”
“No?” His eyebrows were darker than his hair, a light but definite brown. He quirked the left one. “I have a four-million-dollar receipt that says you’re wrong. But…are you worth it?”
I flinched. I tried to cover it, but he saw. Something flickered across his face. Remorse…maybe even pity.
My fingers tightened on the shot glass. I smoothed my expression, like Brien and his pity didn’t have the power to hurt me.
“Fucking isn’t making love.”
“True.” Shrugging out of his jacket, he dropped it on an armchair and prowled closer; a powerful, tawny cat of a man, like Daniel Craig in his first James Bond movie. “But then, I thought we did something more than fuck.”
This time, I managed not to flinch.
Still, he was right, it had been more than fucking. We’d…connected, in some primal way I couldn’t explain. A connection that had scared the crap out of me, because he was a vampire and I was a slayer. I couldn’t,wouldn’tlet this thing between us develop. And so, when my mission had required it, I’d left Montreal without contacting him.
And after the mission ended, it was too late. Lainey Q no longer existed, and I couldn’t risk meeting a syndicate vampire as Twilight…even if it felt like in leaving Brien, I’d left behind something vital, like a lung—or my heart.
A few months later, I’d staked Crow and the only way to survive had been to erase Twilight completely. Not even my halmoni knew for sure if I was dead or alive. I hadn’t dared contact her.
I filled my chest with a deep breath. “What are you doing in Quebec City, anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be in Nova Scotia in that bat-cave of a castle?”
The broody black castle on an island off the coast of Canada. And no, I’d never been to Castle Leclerc. I’d looked it up because…reasons.
Brien tilted his head, considering me. “You googled me.”
I set the shot glass on the bar. “I got bored one night.”
“Yeah?” He was only two feet from me now. Loosening his tie, he drew it over his head and dropped it on the couch. “You should be happy I won the auction. The vampires bidding against me are both dark SOBs. Whips, handcuffs, gags…that sort of stuff.”
I briefly closed my eyes. What had Kuro sent me into? There hadn’t even been a plan for extracting me.
“Thank you. I—I’ll pay you back somehow.”
“I don’t want your goddamned money.”
“Then what do you want? You don’t keep blood slaves.”
“Don’t I?”
“No.” I folded my arms over my chest, refusing to let him frighten me.
The more I thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense. I’d bet my scary-low bank balance that Brien Leclerc didn’t keep blood slaves.
His fingers went to his shirt. I watched, distracted, as he undid the top two buttons, exposing the strong column of his throat.
“The auction.” I forced my gaze back to his face. “You were sitting with the QCS primus. That’s why you were there, weren’t you? Business.”
Suddenly, he was right in front of me, so close my nipples nearly touched his chest. They hardened and pressed against my bra.
I moistened my lips. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
A shrug of his broad shoulders.
