“Your zipper’s down,” Kat said brightly, snatching the beer from his hand and guzzling it.
Startled, he looked down and—to his horror—realized she was right. Discreetly, he turned away from the room and maneuvered his hand downward before anyone noticed.
Kat suddenly reached out and zipped him up. His eyes widened at her brazen move, and she grinned when the high-pitched sound caught the attention of a woman sitting at a nearby table.
“Don’t you have any sense of decency?” he whispered.
She glanced around the bar. “Only on Mondays. Wait, there he is. I’d recognize those jowls anywhere.” She nudged Prince and turned him to face the back of the room. “Over to the left near the woman in red. You can’t miss her; she stands out like a stuck pig in a cotton factory. Who needs to dress likethat?Some women display their breasts like they’re melons at a farmer’s market.”
“Let’s say hello,” he said, pushing off the wall and centering his eyes on Vlad.
“Wait!” she whispered urgently. “You’ll spook him.”
“And your plan was to tackle him on the way to the men’s room?” he asked with derision as they moved toward the table. All Prince could think about was wrapping his hands around Vlad’s throat and squeezing until the life pulsed out of him.
Kat suddenly plopped down in the chair directly behind Vlad. She crossed her legs, downed her beer, and bored a hole in the back of his skull with her heated gaze. Prince continued walking without questioning her actions.
The music switched to another song when he pulled the chair out and sat across from the old Mage. When Vlad lifted his head from his glass of vodka, his glazed eyes settled on Prince for a few moments before a flicker of recognition sparked in them.
“Well, well. If it isn’tPrince. Vanquished two centuries ago and crawling back to civilization like a reptile emerging from a swamp,” Vlad said in a heavy Russian accent.
“Banished, not vanquished,” Prince stated flatly. “And how have the years treated you? Did you enjoy the spoils of war? Money and power can be fleeting for those who don’t know how to conserve.”
Vlad took another drink and slammed the glass down, raising his stony eyes to Prince. He was a hard-looking man with a weathered face and blond hair that seemed half a shade away from white. His eyes were the color of slate, and when he smiled, he showed more gum than teeth.
“You look different. I wouldn’t have recognized you if not for those devil eyes,” Vlad said. “They should have burned you as a witch centuries ago. One less Shifter infesting the world.” He lifted his glass, gave it a swirl, and then polished it off.
Prince maintained his composure. “Now that humans have mastered electricity, your Mage gifts seem far less impressive. No better than a battery.”
Vlad flashed him a hostile look. He was not only an immortal, but had the ability to manipulate energy, releasing it through his hands as a weapon to any non-Mage. Prince had built up a tolerance to the energy blasts over the years because of his alpha magic, so one powerful shock wouldn’t knock him unconscious. It gave him enough time to stay in the fight until he could bind their hands, unless he was in wolf form, in which case his wolf would tear apart their limbs, rendering them useless long enough for him to kill the Mage before they could heal. A Mage could flash—running at incredible speeds for short periods of time, so it was crucial to take them down as soon as you were within reach.
Prince removed his jacket and placed it over the back of the chair next to him. “Tell me, Vlad, what became of Alexei Kozlov?”
Instead of thinking for a moment with his gaze adrift as most men do when asked a question that requires them to reflect back a few hundred years, Vlad gave him a lopsided grin and sat back in his chair, flicking his near-empty glass away.
“I sometimes wish I hadn’t taken his offer. It would have been worth turning down his fortune to see you rot in a Russian Breed jail. It’s nothing like the air-conditioned rooms they have now. We served them gruel, if they were lucky. Wolves were tied to sleds in winter to get the men around, and inside the jails they were shackled and beaten. I felt no remorse for someone who gave up his freedom for yours. That showed me what a weak and stupid man he was.”
Prince quelled his anger, centering his eyes on Vlad, uncertain of what rare Mage gifts he might have—ones they often kept concealed. Some could sense emotions, others jumped long distances, and every Mage had at least one rare gift that could give them the advantage in a fight.
Prince leaned forward. “What happened to Alexei?”
Vlad sniffed indifferently. “Once we drove the Shifters out, we had all the power. But soon the humans who knew of our existence became afraid and rose up against us. We tried to get the situation under control, but they threatened to expose us to the public and drive us to extinction. I’m not afraid of humans; they’re weak. But the leaders didn’t think we could win a war without numbers. Guards were ordered to kill the prisoners before evacuating, but Alexei was one of six wolves given a temporary exception. They were to transport a general across the border and return, but when they did, they were short a man. Alexei had escaped.” Vlad rubbed the whiskers on his jaw.
“Why so disappointed? Alexei did nothing but make you a wealthy man.”
“He also paid off a general to set him free.”
Prince smiled with satisfaction, realizing Alex hadn’t given all his fortune to Vlad but had also hidden some. “Clever.”
“Stupid. He could have paid me off a long time ago to set him free. Instead, he chose to rot in jail like the cowardly mongrel he is.”
A sharp blade appeared at Vlad’s throat, and Kat gripped his jaw with her left arm. “You know what’s stupid? That some idiot Creator out there deemed you worthy of immortality. That makes about as much sense as tits on a bull.”
Prince’s lip twitched at her colorful expression.
Kat wrinkled her nose. “Clearly I’ve spent too much time down South,” she said to Prince, annoyed.
“Who’s your friend?” Vlad asked Prince, not showing any signs of intimidation even though he had a blade pressing at his jugular.
