Tremaine stood his ground as Jono came closer, an amused twist to his mouth that couldn’t hide his fangs. “You think highly of yourself for an animal.”
“More highly than your master thinks of you,” Jono drawled. “I’d say Lucien sends his regards, but that would be a lie.”
The hate in Tremaine’s eyes brought a smile to Jono’s face. “I have no master.”
“Seems like you have two. Me? I don’t have any.”
A human servant came forward at a snap of Tremaine’s fingers, silently removing his suit jacket, cufflinks, and tie before retreating again. Tremaine casually rolled up his sleeves, revealing pale forearms.
“That will change tonight.”
Jono shrugged. “Doubt it.”
“Pity you brought no one to watch me bring you to your knees and beg. I’m sure you’ll go down just as prettily as the mage.”
Jono had to check his rage before speaking. “You think I’d let my pack be around you after the shit you pulled earlier this week? Wasn’t gonna happen.”
“Then I’ll send them your heart to remember you by.”
“Won’t be mine they’ll get as a gift after tonight.”
Tremaine raised a hand and snapped his fingers again. A vampire appeared at his side, so quick Jono’s eyes could barely track him. Jono recognized him from the previous weekend.
“Yes, my lord?” the vampire asked.
“Where are Devon and the others?”
If vampires could sweat, Jono thought the messenger would be drenched. “They have not yet responded to the invitations. All calls to their Night Courts are going unanswered.”
Jono hoped Maria hadn’t been lying when she told Lucien she and the other master vampires wouldn’t be coming tonight. If they did show up to support Tremaine at the last minute, he only hoped Lucien brought enough weaponry to deal with the bloodsuckers.
“I came for a fight. So did your guests. You going to disappoint us all by delaying it? Or are you that scared?” Jono mocked.
“I fear nothing, least of all you,” Tremaine snapped.
“I’ll be sure to tell Lucien that.” Jono backed up a couple of steps and spread his arms. “Well? I’m ready. Are you?”
People in power were all the same. They hated having their authority challenged, hated not being the one in charge. Jono knew how to play that game in the werecreature community. Watching Patrick and Lucien go toe-to-toe told him it wasn’t much different in a vampire’s Night Court.
Challenges weren’t liked in any corner of the preternatural world for the sole reason they almost always ended with someone dead.
Hope you’re getting close, Pat.
Jono refused to pull at the soulbond between them. He wasn’t sure if the gods here could feel it, and he didn’t want to bring attention to it or Fenrir. Jono focused on Tremaine instead.
Vampires were long-lived. That didn’t necessarily mean they became more powerful with every century they survived. Tremaine was an exception Jono knew not to underestimate. He was Lucien’s child, two steps removed from Ashanti herself. A monster in human form who wouldn’t hesitate to pry open Jono’s rib cage and rip out his heart.
In turn, Jono couldn’t wait to tear the fucker apart.
Fenrir licked at his thoughts, the need for blood, for war, creeping through his veins. Jono did his best to ignore that siren call, but it was difficult with Tremaine standing in front of him.
Then Tezcatlipoca stood, drawing every eye in the room. The rest of the clubgoers might have only seen a rich cartel gang member, but those who only had one foot in the mundane world knew the truth. Jono saw a few human servants put distance between themselves and the gods in control of the evening.
“Shall we begin?” Tezcatlipoca said.
He extended a hand over the dance floor and snapped his fingers. Gold fire burned into existence around his hand before falling like embers to the marble below. The magic spread rapidly, forming the same circle used during the fight Jono had broken up last weekend. Fiery golden lines formed the great circle, the wide face of a warrior rising in the center between Jono and Tremaine. The four quadrants formed, along with the sunbeam spikes. Once all the circles sealed together, the outermost one rose up in a wall, barricading Jono inside with Tremaine. There was no way out of the gods-built magic cage except through death.
This time, Patrick wasn’t up on the mezzanine with his gods-given dagger capable of breaking the spellwork. Jono had only what he’d carried into the fight—everything that could give him an edge.
