“I could be gentle.”
“Roger.”
Holding up his hands, Roger chuckled. “All right. I’ll let the subject go.”
“Thank you,” Zack said primly. Then, he continued dressing for the evening. He chose a pair of gold shorts and a matching vest, along with one of the duller black collars. He strode toward the bathroom with purpose.
Roger watched him. Drank in every detail. Because though there had been a time before him, he was too painfully aware that there would be a timeafterhim.
Every night with Seamus in charge was a torture to him but was more so for Zack. Roger had made his way through the centuries. He could last another several if he had to. Not Zack, though. While Roger had never intended to drag out his plans for a takeover, he’d never considered the limitations. Zack wouldn’t age into an old man overnight, but Roger couldn’t waste his precious youth and kind heart.
He’d need to talk to Candide. If anyone in the coven could help him find his footing faster and better, she would be able to. Roger changed into a wine-red suit that would complement the color of Zack’s outfit and leaned against the doorframe to watch Zack apply the final touches of his makeup.
CHAPTER 20
Never. Zack rested his head back against Roger’s knee and dared to close his eyes as Roger absently brushed his fingers through his hair. The Cal voice tried to rear its ugly head, but Zack had enough going on in his mind. So what if closing his eyes around vampires was dangerous? Every breath he took was a risk. He pushed those thoughts away and recentered on the moment Roger had asked him if he wanted to become a vampire. The sincerity in Roger’s brown eyes had been tempting for a split second.
That had been weakness. Zackcouldn’tbecome a vampire. An immortality feeding on people? Without the sun? And who would want to live forever, anyway? Plus, vampires weren’thumans. He wouldn’t be the same. Unless that was another myth his family had ingrained in him. How much did vampirism change a person?
Zack opened his eyes to take in his surroundings again. Roger and Takashi had settled into a room on the second floor of Chateau de Vampire. The room had a gold theme to it. Roger and Takashi stood out among the furnishings and even the other vampires since Roger’s wine-red suit and Takashi’s gray suit with baby blue shirt both complemented each other and madethem seem artfully dressed for the space. Kit wore a gold skirt and vest that matched Zack’s outfit, and they sat on the floor on the other side of Takashi. Carver had been exhausted and stayed home.
Zack was probably blending into the couch he sat beside, but he didn’t mind. Just being out was the challenge. He kept trying to shake the notion that the other pets were a breath away from laughing at him or mocking him. Getting rid of the anxiety wasn’t easy, though.
And unfortunately, he couldn’t raise his gaze far enough from the floor to see what the other vampires were like. Sure, the vampires he knew liked being what they were, but was that true of everyone?
Didn’t matter. He’d said no and meant it. He wasn’t going to change his answer. Ever.
Roger was carrying on conversation with a handful of others. There’d been some chatter among them about the “lesser” vampires, which Zack figured out meant the ones who weren’t living in penthouses with a view of Lake Michigan and spending every night in an expensive donor house like the Chateau. One of them had the audacity to sound like she pitied the fact that a vampire around two hundred years old ran a bar and was little more than a stereotypical grouchy bartender.
“Nathaniel still has his place, then?” Roger asked. “The Last Deal?”
“An abhorrent name,” the other vampire said. “That’s for demons, not our kind. It should be something like the Last Kiss.”
“You’re annoyed because you’ve been banned permanently,” one of her vampire companions said. “Honestly, Roger, it’s a disgrace that a captain should see to. Nathaniel doesn’t allow any feeding in his bar. There isn’t a private feeding room at all! One can hardly call it one of our establishments at all.”
Nathaniel. Zack knew the name. If he had the right vampire, then Ezra was his sire, making Roger his grand-sire. The vamp had been one of the few that emerged from the Wright Base back in 1947. Zack’s great-grandfather had tortured him in hopes of “understanding the evil coursing in the veins of the Devil’s most beautiful lure.” Zack had swallowed that line of shit for years, but it had never sat right with him. After digging into the history of what had happened, he was sort of glad there were some of his cousins who would probably never speak to him again.
“Those were the same rules he had when he opened his bar in the ’80s,” Roger said. “As I understood it, his argument was that it was a place for the younger ones to learn control. Though I don’t mind a good feast—” Roger stroked Zack’s neck.
Right. Zack had a part to play. He arched up into Roger’s touch like he wouldn’t mind dying in Roger’s embrace and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see anyone else’s judgment.
“—there is something to be said for blending in among the masses. We don’t want ferals ruining things and enticing the hunters to stalk our territory, do we?” Roger finished.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” the first vampire said stiffly.
Zack clamped his jaw shut and fought the urge to make a sarcastic remark at the fucking asshole vampire.
A young white guy strode into the room, though he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled his way over toward Zack. The behavior wasn’tcompletelyuncommon. Some vampires never wanted their pets to walk in public, which led to a lot of crawling. But no one had been clearly heading for Zack before.
The guy wore a pink collar with Candide’s crest tag dangling from it. His skin was porcelain pale, not the sickly of an unwell, pasty mortal. His eyes were bright purple without any sign of a contact changing the color. Across his cheeks was an iridescent glitter that glimmered silver with deep blues, reds, and purples.His long, auburn hair was tied up into a messy bun. The closer he came, the heavier the scent of pine trees filled Zack’s nose.
He had to be the Unseelie fey that Candide had been whipping the first night they were at the Chateau.
He slinked/crawled his way up to Zack and crooked his finger at him. Zack sat up a little, which was apparently all the invitation the guy needed to invade his personal space. He pressed his cheek against Zack’s and whispered, “My mistress longs to see your master upstairs in her private chambers. He is to bring his loves and his pet.”
The phrasing raised a red flag.Loves?Andpet?What did Candide know about the nature of his relationship with Roger? Did sheknowknow? Would she turn them over to Seamus?
Zack locked the growing fears behind a door. Though his tattoo would protect him, the magic wasn’t one hundred percent. If he allowed too much fear into his heart, then it’d show on his face. Vampires wouldn’t have to rely on their magic if he couldn’t stop himself from obvious clues.
