E.V.I.E.: 13 Slayers, 13 Missions

by Lexi C. Foss

  A fundraiser to spy on a supposed royal vampire. I snorted. Even if he had ties to the Romanovs—which I doubted—it would be from this realm, not my own.

  Maybe he said all that as a test to see how I would react.

  Frowning, I pulled my phone out to send a note to Rowan. She replied by the time I hit the ground floor.

  I sent her the location of a local diner near her flat, asking her to meet, and she shot back a thumbs-up.

  My lips kicked up, and I started to trek toward the greasy diner I favored. They had an all-day breakfast I loved, and I could use a quick bite before the pampering appointment.

  I could go for some coffee, too, since I’d left my barely touched mug on the nightstand back in Chicago.

  Sweet, sweet caffeine. Yes, please.

  Then I’d tell Rowan about the potential Romanov link, as well as Jude’s typical cryptic manner. That man knew more than he let on and played all his cards close to the vest. I’d admire him for it if it didn’t irk me so much.

  Of course, he probably thought the same about me.

  And he’d be right.

  4

  Cassius

  I watched as Roskana Sokolov sipped her tea, then flinched at the hot liquid scalding her mouth. She had the same purple-colored hair as my Kseniya, only with a slight silvery glimmer to it.

  Why had they chosen such odd traits? Was it meant to help them fit in with the current times of this realm?

  Roskana used to have red hair, which seemed to pair well against Kseniya’s blonde strands. Now they both reminded me of a spring holiday. Far too cheery and bright.

  I frowned, sipping my coffee from the shadows. They had no idea I sat so close, too lost in their conversation and togetherness to realize a true predator lurked among them.

  The poor little slayers thought they were safe in the early evening sun. The vampires they’d grown accustomed to wouldn’t come out for another hour, maybe two. And neither of them was expecting me.

  Oh, but my sweet Kseniya would see me soon. What color gown would she wear tonight? Would it be revealing or conservative?

  I pictured her in a myriad of outfits, each one bloody and torn as she lay helpless on the ground, whimpering at my feet.

  My cock hardened at the prospect.

  She would look so pretty in a pool of death. Weeping. Begging me to save her.

  Maybe I would, just to play with her a little longer. Turn her into a shadow of her former self, a broken shell with jagged lines and cruel fractures.

  Mmm, yes. I liked the sound of that.

  I’d been planning this moment for so long that I was almost sad to have it arrive. Because the moment she realized I was here, in her realm, the countdown would begin.

  A dangerous dance.

  A fucked-up fate.

  A perfect end.

  I’d survived for this moment alone, the one where I finally made my little killer pay for what she’d done to me. What would my life become without her? What obsession would I enjoy next?

  Vampirism paired with old age. And I was old indeed. Nearly two thousand years of existence had led me to her bed, gifting me with a happiness I never thought to experience. Then she’d shredded it and left me to exist in hell without her.

  Never again.

  I took another sip of my coffee, watching as Roskana and Kseniya bent their heads together, discussing their master, Jude. The E.V.I.E. director had no idea how lucky he was to have two such gifted humans in his midst.

  Ah, but they weren’t really humans, were they?

  I hid a smile behind my cup.

  Did he know about their amulets, their immortality, or their slayer bloodlines? Would he even believe it?

  “Rowan,” a blonde female said, approaching their table.

  Ah, yes. Rowan—Roskana’s new name. She’d kept her last name, though. Sokolov.

  The two slayers seemed surprised to see the svelte woman, but recognition flared in their eyes at her sensual approach. I leaned forward, intrigued by the development.

  “Miranda,” Roskana greeted, her tone holding a hint of distrust, something my vampiric senses picked up on as I angled my enhanced hearing in their direction.

  “Jude would like to speak with you,” the one called Miranda said, her voice holding a sultry lilt to it.

  She had the kind of body and aura that would have captivated me a century ago.

  Before I’d met Kseniya.

  The little killer had ruined me for everyone else. Case in point, my erection had died the moment Miranda had arrived, all thoughts of my revenge fucking gone in a breath.

  It only made me hate Kseniya more.

  “Right now?” Roskana asked.

  “Of course not,” the blonde replied. “This evening will be fine.” She refocused on Kseniya. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, rather than sitting here gossiping, Violet?”

  Ugh. I was not a fan of that chosen name. It’d taken me several days to discover Kseniya’s new identity. Fortunately, the vampires kept reasonable records on the E.V.I.E. slayers.

  But “Violet”? Seriously?

  Sure, her hair had taken on a purple hue, but naming herself after a flower suggested a softness and innocence I knew she didn’t possess.

  Although, I could admire her stems in those jeans.

  And she did smell rather fragrant.

  I ran my thumb over the bottom of my lip, considering her as Miranda took her leave. I hadn’t listened to the rest of their conversation, too caught up in my inner musings about Kseniya’s nickname.

  Violet.

  So fucking absurd.

  I would not be calling her that.

  Pushing away my thoughts, I used my sensitive ears to eavesdrop on their conversation once more.

  “…something in the way he handed me this assignment, Ro,” Kseniya was saying. “Then casually mentioning a rumor that is so closely tied to our history? Our real history?” She leaned back in her chair and ran her long fingers through her luscious hair. It made me want to grab a fistful myself and yank her to her knees. “I think Jude knows more about us than he’s let on.”

  Roskana sucked in a breath. “How much do you think he knows?”

  A few things, I thought, smiling to myself.

  I’d needed a way to ensure the E.V.I.E. director sent Kseniya on this mission, not some other slayer, so I’d provided some of his lapdog vampires with morsels of information I knew would be whispered back to their master. Including commentary about Kseniya’s Russian ancestry.

  He didn’t know the full truth, just enough to intrigue. And allowing it to slip that the new ancient in town also descended from that same region made for a suitable assignment match.

  It’d been a risk—one that had more than paid off.

  He’d be watching.

  I didn’t care.

  As far as I was concerned, I’d happily kill him, too. Once I finished with Kseniya.

  I couldn’t see her expression, as my corner booth faced her back and not her front, but I imagined she appeared disappointed or maybe even distraught by her inability to explain how Jude knew that important detail about her life.

  Oh, how I longed to indefinitely carve a distraught expression of my own into her gorgeous features, to leave her in tears for decades and bathe in her sadness.

  Mmm, just that thought had my groin stiffening once more.

  I always did enjoy the sight of her tears.

  “I wish I knew more, but that’s it,” she said softly. “I just wanted to warn you to watch your back.”

  How touching, I thought, gagging to myself.

  And there went my intrigue.

  I yanked my senses back in and left them to their heartfelt moment. It would be the final one of Kseniya’s life, so I hoped she enjoyed it.

  My phone began to buzz against my leg, bringing my attention to the time.

  Pulling the device from my pocket, I noticed my assistant’s name. “Yes?” I answered.

  “Your six o�
��clock has just arrived,” she informed me. “What should I tell them?”

  “That I’m running late and will be there in about thirty minutes.” I hadn’t forgotten my appointment with the media. I just wanted to keep them guessing a little longer about my true identity. After all, I couldn’t risk the photos circulating before Kseniya arrived. It had to be a surprise.

  Would she scream and try to run? Or would she attempt to fight me?

  My lips curled. I truly hoped she chose the latter. We used to have so much fun sparring together. I always went easy on her. That ended when she committed me to nearly a century of hell.

  “Okay, sir. I’ll let them know.”

  “Thank you, Gretchen,” I replied, slipping my phone back into my pocket.

  Kseniya and Roskana had fallen silent, consumed by their meals. Deciding it was a good time to slip out undetected, I left a reasonable tip on the table and used my mind persuasion to mask my appearance as I moved through the diner.

  Neither slayer noticed, too at ease in their surroundings to even think a predator lurked among them.

  I’m disappointed, I thought at Kseniya as I walked not five feet away from her. I taught you better than this.

  And yet, she didn’t even flinch, her guard completely down.

  It would be so easy to grab that pretty little neck and snap it. But that’d be too kind, and my sweet killer deserved a more fitting demise.

  Soon, I promised, stepping out of the diner. Soon.

  5

  Violet

  To Whom It May Concern: Evening gowns are not appropriate for midnight slaying missions. I snapped a photo to go with my texted comment and sent it to Jude. Then I added, I have one stake. One. And it’s in my fucking handbag.

  You look stunning, he replied.

  I glared at the screen. Seriously? That’s all you’re going to say?

  Dots appeared before his reply came through. Sorry, busy forwarding the image to the team. Talk later.

  I growled, shoving my phone back into my purse.

  This was the most ridiculous mission of my existence. My kill rate was among the highest in E.V.I.E., and he wanted to waste all that skill in a slinky black gown? Ugh. I glared at myself in the bathroom mirror.

  I’d arrived at this horrific event thirty minutes ago. They’d tried to check my purse, and I’d not so politely refused.

  Refined society and I were not meant to be, something Jude had to know by now.

  I preferred old bars, dungeons, and the desert. Not this high-society bullshit that required me to smile and act like a lady.

  The hairdressers had hated me, mostly because anything other than a ponytail looked wrong on my head. Alas, they’d found a way to string up my purple tresses into a teased bun that appeared somewhat elegant. They’d applied ample makeup to my face, commenting on how it made my violet eyes pop.

  Then they’d poured me into this tight black dress that revealed far too much cleavage and dipped so low in the back I was afraid my ass might make an appearance if I moved the wrong way.

  I looked like sex on legs.

  Vampire bait.

  The heels on my feet felt wrong. They raised my five-foot-nothing height up to five foot four and were entirely impractical for slaying. The manufacturer could have at least affixed a razor-sharp end to the bottom, but no. These were purely meant for fashion purposes.

  Ugh.

  I took a champagne flute from a passing tray with a muttered “Thank you” and tried to melt into the background again. However, my dress made that impossible. Male eyes followed me everywhere, and females flashed me envious looks. It all left me feeling very out of my element and exposed.

  Goose bumps pebbled along my limbs, leaving me with an uneasy sensation in the pit of my stomach. This wasn’t my playground. I didn’t know how to act here. And it reminded me of a world I left long ago.

  How many parties had I attended with Roskana and Emerald? We’d been three of Anastasia’s closest friends, invited to every political affair imaginable. There’d been dresses. Dances. Tempting males.

  Cassius.

  His presence taunted my memories, the way he fit a suit a visual I would never forget. Or how he looked outside of it.

  I nearly groaned, my thighs clenching as they always did when I considered him.

  My body refused to acknowledge his betrayal, while my heart gave a pang of agony.

  Stop thinking about him, I told myself.

  But I couldn’t.

  Even the colors of this fundraiser reminded me of him. All golds and reds, the colors of the Romanov Dynasty prominent and palpable. There was even a pair of golden eagles hanging over the entrance at the front of the room.

  This building wasn’t one I’d ever been inside before, but I sensed the fashionable décor was done for the event and not a usual theme for the room.

  Deep red carpet.

  Black tables.

  Gold adornments.

  A dance floor of obsidian marble.

  I frowned. This whole atmosphere reminded me of the final ball I attended just a month before leaving my realm. Only with modern decor disguised as an otherwise obvious reference.

  Was I just imagining it?

  The lights above seemed to sparkle, drawing my gaze upward to the chandelier dangling from the high ceiling. A similar visual painted my memories, one holding real candles, not electric lights.

  I’m losing it, I thought as a familiar fragrance of cinnamon twined with ginger tickled my nose. My muscles loosened, my heart thumping in my chest as I indulged my senses by inhaling deeply through my nose.

  I nearly sighed.

  I loved that scent.

  It reminded me of Cassius’s cologne.

  I blinked away from the chandelier, my brow furrowing. Something wasn’t right. First Jude’s mention of the Romanov link, and now all these—

  “Hello, Kseniya,” a deep voice said right against my ear.

  The champagne glass fell from my hand, only to be caught by his as he wrapped his opposite arm around my waist.

  No.

  It… it…

  I tried to turn around, only to be hushed by the strong male behind me as he pulled me backward into his solid frame. “Now, now, sweet slayer. It’s best we not make a scene.”

  “Cassius,” I breathed, frozen against him, my mind blanking. It was as though my thoughts had conjured him.

  Impossible.

  He can’t be here.

  I’m imagining this.

  “Mmm,” he hummed, sipping my drink before setting it on a passing tray. “I still prefer vodka, but my planner insisted that champagne would be a more suitable drink for the event.” His hands found my hips, whirling me toward him.

  Silver irises burned into mine, searing me to my very soul.

  It’s him.

  He’s here.

  Cassius is here.

  “Why, darling, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” He sounded deeply entertained, his lips curving into one of his taunting grins. Seeing it brought back so many memories of sparring matches, all of them ending with me naked beneath him.

  Not tonight.

  Not now.

  Not here.

  The part of my brain that knew how to survive ignited, sending my hand to the clutch in my opposite palm. I unsnapped it, only to feel his fingers trap mine. He plucked the purse deftly from my grip and set it on a table beside us, then grabbed my hips before I could leap away from him.

  “Easy,” he murmured, tugging me closer. My hands went to his shoulders, intending to shove him away as he added, “We’ll fight properly later.”

  “How?” I demanded through clenched teeth, my stomach rioting with a myriad of emotions.

  Terror.

  Shock.

  Sadness.

  Longing.

  I never thought I’d see him again. Yet here he stood, holding me at a fundraiser with a chandelier glittering over his head.

  Not a thing had changed about him. H
e still had that stark white hair, thick and flowing past his shoulders. Piercing silver eyes. Definitive jaw structure, broad shoulders, tapered waist of solid muscle. He even smelled the same, his cinnamon scent tickling my senses.

  There was no doubt in my mind that he was real. Here. Alive. And the hint of cruelty in his gaze told me I was the reason he’d come.

  Amusement flirted with his features. “How will we fight later?” he asked, clarifying my question incorrectly. “With blood and teeth, I imagine.”

  “How are you here?” I reiterated.

  He guided me into a dance, swaying our hips in time with the classical music playing within the room. I supposed it made us appear less conspicuous, but the intimacy of it wasn’t lost on me. He held me as he did all those years ago, his body harsh and unyielding against mine. I hated how it awoke nerves long lost to another realm.

  This can’t be happening.

  Only it was.

  He was here.

  Right fucking in front of me.

  Heat engulfed me from head to toe, the desire to kill him a hot coal to my senses. However, my body refused me, my limbs moving with his as though I were a puppet beneath his control.

  A hundred years.

  A hundred fucking years.

  And he still had the power to control me.

  No, no. The amulet hanging from my neck ensured my safety. He couldn’t compel me so long as I wore it.

  “Did you miss me, darling slayer?” he asked softly, ignoring my question about his arrival into this realm. “Because I’ve missed you.” He kept one arm around my lower back while his opposite palm went to my face, cupping my cheek. “I’ve dreamed so long of painting the room with your sweet, seductive blood. I can’t wait to make that dream a reality, pet.”

  I shivered against him, my insides melting and solidifying and melting again.

  He’d dreamt of my blood just as I’d dreamt of his. Among other things.

  “The only one who is going to bleed is you,” I promised him, narrowing my eyes.

  The edges of his mouth curled. “So confident.”