“Are youinsane?”
Raziel kept a faint smile on his face as he looked down at his sister Lana. He was used to this. It wasn’t the first time he had received a dressing-down from her. Hopefully, it would be one of the last.
Because, if all went to plan, she would be dead soon.
He wondered who would be the one to get the kill on Lana. Him, or his new little murderer. Either way, he was going to watch.
Azazel was sprawled out on a sofa, looking entirely uninterested in the conversation, reading a book. Lana went nowhere without her favorite pet.
And Ivan was standing near Monica, looking as stern as ever. He had informed his bodyguard to keep watch over his newly vampiric wife. He could not trust his mother not to attempt to murder her over dinner.
“Stupid question.” Lana placed her hands over her face as she paced back and forth over the carpet in front of him. “Of course you are. Ofcourse.”
He lit his cigarette, enjoying the taste of the incense and wood chips on his tongue. It was an odd habit he pickedup decades ago, but one he found hard to shake. That, along with the coins he was constantly toying with. They gave him something to help ration his thoughts when his mind wanted to go faster than the rest of him.
Lana plucked the cigarette from his mouth and immediately tamped it out in a brass bowl that sat atop the elegant antique credenza against the wall. His mother’s home was far more dated than his. She preferred the look of things from a bygone era—all deep lacquered wood, crimson drapes, and all so dimly lit that without their vampiric eyesight the family would have been constantly tripping over velvet footstools.
“You know Volencia hates it when you smoke,” Lana hissed. “Are you trying to make this worse on yourself?”
Raziel rolled his eyes. “She smokes. This house reeks ofactualcigarettes. I hate the smell of that hideous weed she rolls up and puts in those papers for some reason.”
“Exactly! She says you smell like a bonfire. Always taking after your father, smoking woodchips.” Lana went back to pacing with an angry sigh. “Bad enough you walk in withthat.” She gestured at the young woman standing nearby, close to the door, her hands tucked into the pockets of her dark coat.
Monica, to them. To him?Nadi.What a wonderful name. It was deeply amusing how attractive the rancher’s daughter had been to him until he knew the truth—until he realized that so much of the fire and razor’s edge that he had come to desire in the young “human” had actually belonged to thefae assassinwho had come to murder him. The little bits of her own personality she had allowed to shine through the lie she had so carefully played were the parts he had adored, not the act she had worn.
And a brilliant job she had done in her lie, he had to give her credit. To share his bed—his life—to slide into the Serpent’s lairwithout notice. It was only because of her dreams of grandeur and desire to murder his entire family that he was still alive.
If she’d wanted him dead…he would be. Several times over. He had been at her mercy forweeks.
By the moons, that shouldn’t make him want her as badly as it did.
Because now that he’d seen her true face—knew her true self? It would not stop haunting him. The image of Nadi atop him while holding a knife to his throat, cursing him with lust and hate in her eyes, kept waking him from sleep.
They were destined to destroy each other. One of them would end up dead. A duel to the death. And it wasdeliciousto him. He would have it no other way.
There she was, hiding behind the veneer of Monica-turned-vampiress. As flawlessly as any actor upon a stage, with her slightly magenta eyes and her pale skin. Shy, but determined. Frightened, but like a cornered cat. Not afraid to lash out with her sharp claws.
“That is my wife, need I remind you.” He pulled a coin from his pocket. If he couldn’t smoke, he’d amuse himself in other ways. He began to walk the coin across the backs of his fingers, moving to stand by the window.
“You needn’t remind me,” Lana bit back. “But I apparently need to remind you that you were supposed tokill her!”The shrillness of her voice made Raziel wince.
“The plan changed.” A simple fact. It did.
“And why? Why! That’s what I don’t understand.” Lana was furious. It was always funny when she got all wound up. So pointless. Such a waste of time. “Sure, she’s cute, but you’ve never been one to get?—”
His patience, however, was running thin. “Show her, Monica.”
“Are…are you sure?” Monica grimaced. Good girl, still flawlessly playing the part. “I haven’t quite figured out the…whole…clothes…thing…”
Oh, very clever.Likely drawing off her experience mastering her skill when she was a young fae. The image of her accidentally tearing apart her clothing when shifting forms did nothing to help the low hum of desire that had been burning in him since their foray at the estate. “She’s about your size. It’ll be fine.”
Lana was clearly unamused. “What are you two babbling ab?—”
Monica shifted forms into one that flawlessly matched Lana, only wearing Monica’s clothing. She smiled. “What are you two babbling about?” she parroted in a perfect imitation of Lana’s voice and tone.
Lana staggered backward, falling into a chair.
Ivan jumped away from Monica as if he were suddenly an old woman who had spotted a mouse.
