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He shrugged. “You’re the boss.”
“So that Lainey-Q thing in Montreal,” said Cain. “It was all an act? Even you and her—?”
I trained a hard stare on him, and he broke off.
What had happened between me and Twilight was none of their damn business. And I refused to believe she’d been acting we’d had sex. The woman had scratched her nails down my back, her pussy squeezing around me as she moaned my name.
On the other hand, maybe she was an Oscar-level actress.
Or maybe she got off on fucking vampires before she staked them.
I scowled.
“When you think about it,” Talon said, “that Lainey-Q alias is a perfect cover.”
I nodded. “She really was a stylist, a good one, with over five million followers on Instagram. And Prima Victorine wasn’t the first vampire who’d hired her for a special event.”
“Smart,” said Cain. “She’d be invited into her clients’ private spaces. She must’ve heard and seen things. But how did she get away with it? Eventually, someone would’ve connected the dots.”
“Maybe all she did was reconnaissance,” I said. “She could provide schedules, the layout of the buildings, other intel. Then she leaves and a month or two later, someone turns up with a silver blade in their heart. Who’d suspect an airhead fashionista?”
“Or maybe,” Talon pointed out, “the prima knew she was a slayer. Remember what people said, that Victorine had bribed some of SI’s top people to intervene in her blood feud with the Krals.”
I’d wondered that myself. “It’s possible. I’m fairly sure Victorine hired her to spy on Zoe. Not that Zoe would say anything.”
“And you’re taking the woman back to Nova Scotia with us?” Cain shook his head. “You’d better lock up the knives and keep her chained to your bed.”
I shrugged. “I can handle her.”
“Don’t forget she’s a slayer, not a ditzy Instagram influencer—and she had everyone fooled. Even you.”
“She’s a human,” I returned. “You really think she can take me? And if she gives me any trouble, I’ll confine her to a cell. Now if we’re finished here—?”
Talon was closer to the door. He put a hand on the handle but didn’t turn it.
“What?” I asked.
“Your father can’t know she means anything to you,” he stated. “He has to think she’s just another thrall.”
“Or he’ll want her for himself,” Cain added. “And then—”
“Yeah,” I replied grimly. “I know. He might grab her like he did Gwen.”
Jules had seized the thrall one night after she’d left me. He’d locked himself into his apartment with her and remained there, abusing her and drinking from her until she died from the beatings and the blood loss.
And I hadn’t been able to stop it. Jules was the primus. He could do whatever he damned well pleased.
Maybe he’d believed Gwen was special to me, even though she wasn’t. I didn’t let myself get attached to thralls.
But as I’d stared down at Gwen’s broken, drained body, I finally accepted the truth. My father was going blood mad.
* * *
Back in my suite, Twilight was curled up on the couch, a half-eaten plate of food on her lap. She glanced at me and put the drumstick she was about to bite into back on the plate. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“Right,” she said flatly. She sipped some water, looked me up and down. “First time I’ve seen you in jeans.”
