“Are you? You seem to be dawdling,” Seamus remarked.
“I wanted a nip before I began. Do you think enough are here?”
Seamus put his hand on top of Anton’s arm and appeared perfectly content to be held by his lover. “Seems everyone was eager to please me this evening. Except for Ezra, who’s disappeared. He was supposed to bring us a few morsels.”
“I passed him in the hall on my way out. He caught sight of my surprise and lost his temper.” Anton frowned childishly, but in the next moment, he grinned, the glow of his joy reaching his bloodred eyes. “Luckily, I had an extra cage.”
“What did you do to him?” Candide demanded as she stood.
“I saw your mark of ownership, so I didn’t touch him,” Anton said with an eye roll. “Well, except to throw him in the cage. I’ll let him out after the show.” His grin turned malicious. “Unless you’d like me to add him to it?”
Like a king gazing upon a lesser, Seamus turned his head to regard Candide. He appeared thoughtful, but both Candide and Roger knew what he wanted. An ego stroke.
Begging was not Candide’s way and would only spur Anton on. Instead, Candide lowered her gaze and said calmly, “I would like him returned, master.”
Seamus shot a smug grin at her, then leaned back to speak with Anton. “I think she’s actually in love with the brat. Keep him comfortable back there if he’s being a nuisance and let him out without harm afterwards, love.”
“Oh, all right. Anything for you.” Anton kissed Seamus briefly and deeply.
Together for over half a millennium. Their love would be inspirational if they weren’t both power-hungry murderers. Roger checked the bar and saw that Vincent was leading the way, his hand to his neck, while Zack was carrying the full tray. Rather than fall back into her practiced politeness, Candidecontinued to regard Seamus and Anton with hostile suspicion. If that bothered them, they gave no indication.
“I should get going,” Anton said sadly as he ended the kiss.
Seamus kissed his hands and let go of him. “Half an hour, then you can begin.”
“Fine,” Anton said petulantly. Then he drifted away toward the door he’d initially emerged from. That area of the club was reserved for private events, which usually resulted in at least one mortal’s death. It connected to the backstage area as well.
The last show Roger had seen in this club was the night Ezra’s lover had been paraded out as a traitor and killed onstage. The young vampire had already been dead—his body reanimated by Anton’s magic—because Anton and Seamus had stolen his life force. The general public of the coven didn’t know that, however.
Did they finally consume Dmitri? Would they be able to do that to me after all this time?Roger clutched Takashi’s hand. Some potential leader he was turning out to be. He was panicking in the presence of the coven’s most powerful.
Even though his mind raced, his body fell into old habits, feigning a relaxed pose. He could keep the carefully neutral expression affixed to his features while his mind spun ever-worsening tales about what had happened to Dmitri in the few nights since they last saw one another.
Before long, Vincent and Zack had returned. With one hand still holding a rag to his neck, Vincent passed out the drinks among the other pets. Only at this point did Roger remember how often the mortals’ drinks were drugged in Seamus’s club.
Once Zack sat down, Roger leaned in and murmured into his ear, “I don’t know if it’s safe.”
After a quick glance to see if Seamus was distracted, Zack winked at Roger and took a long sip. As subtly as he could, Roger looked over to the bartender and saw Nathaniel ratherthan the one who had been there earlier. Nathaniel had always been the quiet subversive of the coven. Had he been closer to Seamus, his unwillingness to victimize mortals might have led to his undoing. But Nathaniel had kept his distance, and after the hunters had maimed him, Seamus gave up his attempt to pull him closer. Nathaniel was an example of how strong someone in Seamus’s bloodline could be but a reminder that even vampires might not be as unchangeable as they believed.
Seamus had been carrying on some quiet conversation with Vincent, something that was giving Seamus a reason to grin.
Candide had her mortal woman lying up against her, and she silently drummed her fingers along her pet’s arm. The motion was subtle, quick. When she caught Roger’s gaze, she had more than a trace of fear in her eyes. She had had ideas about how to win the coven’s heart, but each had boiled down to a single point: proving worth.
Seamus was strong. Whoever came after him would have to be just as powerful, or the coven’s respect would fall apart. If no one believed Roger could keep them safe, then they wouldn’t follow him. Because as much as they feared what Seamus could do to them, as long as they kept in step to the dance he led them through, they and what they loved were safe.
Or at least they could tell themselves they were. Seamus’s good mood could turn sour in an instant, and then anything might become ash and smoke.
Candide was frightened for Ezra. She’d demonstrated an ounce of love, and Seamus was already using it against her.
And Roger wanted to reach across, grab her hands, and tell her that everything would be all right. But that could be a lie, and suggesting it might be truth would turn it into a lie even faster. Seamus had to have the superiority.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen that look on your face before, Roger,” Seamus said coolly.
The vapid playboy act had been called out already. Roger found himself falling into a new role, but he would have to dance a waltz along a high wire above a pit of silver stakes to see this through. Smooth words came to mind, and he fixed Seamus with a bored stare. “I’m wondering what drama you’ve concocted tonight.”
“Anton is the architect behind this evening’s entertainment, though I’ve found a portion of it illuminating already.”
Roger caught, in the corner of his eye, that Zack had a flash of a calculating frown.
