Most international vampires were pains in the ass that only wanted to further subjugate humans, and several masters wererampant racists that were gleefully funding the resurgence of fascism. Takashi didn’t owe those bastards a damn bit of his loyalty.
But he did have lines. Likely, Seamus wouldn’t respect him if he didn’t.Just as likely that he’ll kill me for them.
Yet what Anton had dragged to the surface had left him shaken. He wanted power. When he was alone, he couldn’t deny that.
But he wanted love.Hadlove. And he wouldn’t forsake it.
“May I ask a question?” Takashi said.
“I may not answer it.”
“That’s within your rights.” Rather than swallowing his fear for his loved ones, Takashi let it bubble upward, making it obvious. “Are they dead?”
Seamus watched him for a long moment. Takashi didn’t budge, didn’t blink. He waited.
“You wouldn’t betray them even if they were,” Seamus replied.
“I would not.”
“I can appreciate loyalty, even to a traitorous bastard such as Roger, when it’s born out of love.” Seamus flipped through one of the pages before him. “The heart cannot help what it wants. No one knows that better than I.”
An odd piece of information. Takashi examined its place on the chess board and made note of it. His question wasn’t answered, but the expectation was set. Keeping his head level, he said, “Since we have an understanding, I have no qualms discussing our international brethren. You are my coven master, after all.”
“Wonderful,” Seamus said happily. “Dawn is nearing, so we’ll keep tonight’s session short.”
“Thank you,” Takashi said with a slight nod of his head.I will find out what happened to you Roger, Zack. Kit. If you aredead, then I will orchestrate this bastard’s burning by his own fucking hand. “Where would you like to start?”
CHAPTER 5
The abandoned house in the middle of the empty cornfields was silent except for the distant sounds of passing trucks on the highway. Darkness enveloped Roger where he stood beside one of the upper-floor windows.
The solitary company of the stars was a boon. He’d woken at dusk, and Vincent had promptly offered his blood. When Roger had turned the boy down, a glimmer of a vague and violent desire had swept through him. The shape of that desire had remained unfathomable, and that had left Roger wondering about the boy he’d taken in.
Nathaniel had offered a mage friend a clean tab if she provided Roger with a fresh feeding. Her blood had been perfectly all right, but Roger’s heart remained a lump in his chest.
Holes in the walls of the house allowed for an icy wind that would’ve been rough for a human or shifter but suited Roger’s mood fine.
He had fucked up so many times, but he didn’t know of any other path he could’ve tread. If he hadn’t returned to Chicago, then Seamus would have sent someone after him. If he hadn’t convinced Zack to accompany him, then Zack wouldhave continued trying to kill him. And if he’d killed Zack? If he’d never known him? Zack would be safe from whatever torture he currently suffered, but he would’ve died uselessly.
Monstrous memories played out. Zack practically dragging Vincent down the hall. Another boy, his name long forgotten, who had belonged to Seamus but had died in the middle of Devil’s Cove back in 1969 because Seamus had fed too long from him. The smell of the Gladwell Manor that fateful night in 1755 and the sight of Anton reveling in the destruction of a family. Ezra’s grief, crying out. And only once did Roger lift a finger. Only for Vincent, who was so jaded by vampires he didn’t seem to understand that Roger wouldn’t demand his blood.
Even though a part of him hungered for blood now.
Roger clenched his fists in his jacket pockets. He’d never doubted becoming a vampire, but he’d never had a choice in it. Feeding was something one did, and humans were hardly an innocent species.
But without Seamus to dictate behavior, Roger could redraw his boundaries. No, he could unearth them, find the root and shape of who he was when he didn’t have to pretend to be a foolish playboy.
Who was that? After centuries, was there anything left of the mortal man he’d been? Did Roger even want any part of that bastard who had been too stupid to realize he was walking toward death without a fucking care?
I can’t be that coward anymore.
From the second-story window, he had a clear vantage for well over an acre down the gravel road. He’d parked his borrowed vehicle behind the house to obscure it. Five minutes before his first meeting was scheduled, a sleek black luxury sedan crawled down the road, eventually turning onto the short drive.
The car came to a stop closer to the road, and the engine turned off, though the headlights remained on. The driver’s door opened, and a woman stepped out. Her long braid swung as she strode. Rock and dirt crunched under her feet until she veered her path onto a patch of lawn before the house. The dry, frozen grass bent in rustles and snaps.
“Roger,” Josefina called out, “you’re being incredibly dramatic, and it better be for a damn good reason.”
Roger dropped from the window to land several feet ahead of her. She jumped, and he couldn’t help the ghost of a smile. Apparently, she hadn’t spotted him. That meant his attempt to pull a loose shadow around him had worked. Doing so had been easy in the darkness, but it was a skill he had to practice. “Forgive me for a few precautions. Last night has put me on edge.”
