Renato’s gaze locked onto mine, his pale face betraying no emotion. As he casually leaned back in his chair, I realized this foolish motherfucker thought he had the advantage.
How precious.
“You may call meCú Allaidh,” I replied, my voice steady. “I’ve had many names in my life, but this is the one I will answer to even a thousand years from now.”
I met Renato’s glare with a smug smirk.
“Though if it’s easier for you … perhaps you’d preferMadraín Béicteach. Has a certain bite to it, don’t you think?”
He didn’t laugh. But I did. Silently. Because we both knew exactly who the yappy little bitch in the room was.
I graced Renato and Vesna with an overexaggerated bow, then muttered a hollow thanks before slipping out into the oppressive summer heat.
Their absurdly long driveway seemed built to give departing guests ample time to dwell on the mistakes that led them there. And sure enough, my thoughts fixated on the bizarre meeting.
Vampires don’t scare me. I’ve easily dispatched plenty in my lifetime. They’re troublesome, snobby creatures who think they should rule the world just because humanity built shrines to them in books and movies—even if most of it’s wrong.
My steps faltered, leaving me frozen in the middle of a busy sidewalk.
I needed to do something about the Disciples of Humanity’s Light before they spread further, rooting themselves like an invasive weed intent on choking out everything in their path.
And the only way to defeat an invasive weed is to kill it at the root.
Over the next few years, I relentlessly hunted down and destroyed every human tied to that vile cult, leaving no trace of their hateful existence.
The ugly flower with the hopeful smell—Orbexilum stipulatum—became extinct along with the group that had held it in such high esteem.
Or so I thought.
Dragging myself from the memory, my gaze snapped back to the blood-soaked human in front of me. Gore dripped from his naked body, and the faint scent of that long-extinct flower clung to him.
What the hell did it mean?
How certain was I that I had eliminated the entire cult?
If I hadn’t encountered the Disciples all those years ago, I would’ve devoured Thane without a second thought.
Was fate fucking with me again?
He was either one of them—or their enemy.
The only thing I knew for certain was this: He was worth keeping close.
I carefully examined his body for injuries, staying alert for any signs of aggression. Aside from minor cuts and scrapes, Thane had two huge gashes running along his shoulder blades, deep enough to need stitches.
Beneath the cool, sticky blood, I spotted a detailed tattoo of a chain wrapping around his neck, winding down his torso, and crisscrossing over his chest, ending in a lock that didn’t feel decorative.
The symbols etched around the lock looked Enochian. It was concerning, but probably nothing.
Humans stumble onto supernatural shit like that all the time.
Once I was sure he had no other serious injuries, I helped him to his feet, keeping my grip firm as I wrapped an arm around his waist and hooked his other arm over my neck.
The whole situation was precarious.
I didn’t pray. I just hoped the cosmos was in a merciful mood. I wasn’t sure how I’d explain two naked, blood-soaked men walking through the woods in the middle of the night.
Thane’s blood smeared across my side as we moved, his arm heavy on my shoulders.
