“I can’t believe they’re going with guns, my lord,” Freddy called, his joyous laugh piercing the gunfire, sounding like the cackle of a madman. Aden had a moment to ponder the fact that his two closest advisors were both what would have been called berserkers in the old country, but then the guns went silent, and the SUV’s door opened to reveal a familiar figure.
“Stig Lakanen,” Aden said, identifying the most powerful of this current batch of foes, although that wasn’t saying much. Stig’s presence explained the choice of weapons. Most vampires avoided using guns. They were noisy and drew the attention of human authorities. Of course, Stig’s presence also explained the sudden lack of gunfire. He wouldn’t want to risk getting killed by a stray bullet from one of his own. He’d probably hoped to catch Aden unawares by coming in guns blazing, hoped to weaken Aden by killing off his children with a surprise first strike.
Too bad that hadn’t worked out for him.
“This won’t take long,” Aden told his vampires, never taking his eyes off of Stig. “Deal with these others however you please, but make it quick. I have more important things to do tonight.”
Dual grins greeted his decision as Freddy and Bastien engaged their enemy with cheerful zeal, wading in with knives and fists, blood flying. Aden ignored their battle, confident in the abilities of his people to get the job done. He focused instead on the leader of this poorly-conceived ambush who was hiding back by one of the SUVs, looking more worried by the minute. Stig Lakanen was one of Lucas’s children. His usual haunt was Minneapolis where he was a rank and file warrior at best. He had no chance in hell against Aden in a stand-up fight, and his wary stance indicated he knew it. Unfortunately, once a challenge was issued, there was no taking it back.
Aden strode over to confront the challenger, more interested in getting this done than wasting time on posturing bullshit. The two of them faced off, both seeming oblivious to the bloodshed behind them.
“What the hell, Stig?” Aden asked, eyeing the vampire’s long, greasy hair. “Couldn’t even shower for the big gala?”
“Fuck you,” the blond vampire snarled. “Put up or shut up.”
“Are you so eager to die?”
“Fuck you twice.”
“You’re really not my type, and I have places to be.” Aden attacked without warning, using a slap of power to pin Stig to the SUV, letting a bare smile of satisfaction tilt his lips when Stig’s eyes widened in surprise.
“I don’t know who put you up to this, Stiggy,” he said, using a nickname the other vampire hated. “But I’ll find out. Tell me who it was, and I’ll make this easy.”
“Fu—”
Aden hit him with a second punch of power, slamming it into his chest with enough force to crush his ribcage. Stig gasped as he strained to draw breath with lungs that no longer worked. Aden could feel him struggling to gather his power, to fight back.
“One more chance, Stig. Save me some time, tell me who put you up to this, and I’ll make it easy.”
Stig’s eyes were wide with disbelief, bloody with broken capillaries as he slowly suffocated. He stared at Aden, and Aden saw the first signs of pleading enter his expression. But Aden had no pity. Stig had known what the game was before he joined it. Or, he should have.
“The name, Stig.”
The other vampire’s mouth opened, his lips moving as they tried to form a word. Talking was difficult with no breath to drawn upon, but his teeth finally clenched around a hiss of air that was a name. “Silas.”
Aden nodded, unsurprised. Stig clamped his fist around Aden’s cuff in a last bid for mercy, but Aden had none to give. He’d promised to make it easy. He would do that much, but no more. Extending his right hand, he slammed his fist directly into Stig’s chest and grasped his heart. The organ thumped once against his palm, and Aden smiled absently at the sensation before closing his fist and squeezing until muscle and blood slithered between his fingers.
Stig’s final cry sang in his ears as he focused his power once more, and the heart burst into flame, becoming nothing more than ash snowing down to join the pile of clothes and dust that had been Stig Lakanen.
Aden brushed his hands together and shook his head in disgust. What a waste. Stig hadn’t been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he’d been a perfectly fine warrior. Silas had wound him up and set him on Aden’s trail knowing full well Stig would die. Maybe hoping to at least do some damage. But had Silas really thought Stig Lakanen could weaken Aden in any meaningful way?
“Sire?”
He turned at the sound of Bastien’s voice, becoming aware of the silence all around him. Lifting his gaze, he quickly located Freddy who gave him a jaunty salute despite the copious amount of blood staining his tux.
“Freddy?” Aden said, eyeing the blood.
“Most of it belonged to your enemies, Sire. I’ll be healed by the time we reach the office.”
Aden nodded. “Call someone to get rid of these trucks,” he said, indicating the attackers’ two SUVs.
“Already done,” Bastien said from behind him. “We should leave now, my lord, just in case.”
Aden knew what he meant. Stig had been used as Silas’s sacrificial lamb, very possibly to weaken Aden in advance of a real attack which could come at any moment.
They all piled into the limousine for the short ride to the six-story building where Aden had set up his headquarters two months ago. It was an elegant structure of mixed use, with many of his fellow residents using the space for home offices. It also had excellent security, although Aden had augmented his top two floors with safety measures of his own, especially since he and his vamps spent their daylight hours in the living quarters adjacent to the offices.
Most importantly, the sixth floor penthouse couldn’t be reached directly from the lobby. One took the main elevator to the fifth floor and a private elevator from there. None of Aden’s offices or living quarters were on the fifth. It was occupied solely by his contingent of daylight guards, many of whom lived there.
Aden’s limo was en route to his offices when the phone signaled an incoming call.
“My lord,” Aden answered, recognizing Lucas’s number.
“Not much longer, my friend,” Lucas said, making a veiled reference to the challenge. “So . . . ,” he continued. “Stig?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
Lucas sighed audibly. “I chose him for his skill on the battlefield, not his IQ. I wouldn’t have predicted he’d go for the territory, though.”
“Someone charged him up and sent him off to die.”
“Silas?”
“Most likely. He admitted as much before he died. Could have been part of the feint, I suppose, but I wouldn’t credit Silas with that much influence.”
“Stig was always willing to obey orders. It’s part of what made him a good warrior.”
“Why throw in with Silas, though?”
“Silas was his commanding officer back in the day. Good with a blade.”
“Silas or Stig?”
“Both, actually, but I was thinking of Stig.”
“Maybe he should have gone with his strengths then. His people came out firing MP5s.”
“Stupid. Oh well, onward and upward. Stay alive, my friend. The real battle is ahead of us.”
“I plan on it, my lord.”
Aden tucked the phone back in his pocket thoughtfully. “Bastien, I’d like confirmation of Silas’s involvement in this as soon as possible. I need to know if there’s another player out there. If someone has enough cunning to use Stig against both of us, I need to know who it is before we end up as dead as Stig.”
Chapter Three
“DO WEAR SOMETHING more suitable, Ms. Reid,” Sidonie simpered, mocking Aden’s parting words to her. She lowered her voice to better replicate the vampire’s rumbling bass for the rest of it. “I’m rather fond of redheads.” She frowned, wondering what the hell he’d meant by that last remark, her suspicious nature not letting her believe he’d simply been
admiring her coloring.
Her frown deepened as she stared at the full-length mirror. Or not so much at the mirror, which was an antique and rather lovely, but at her own reflection which was . . . not. Her hair wasn’t having a good day, flying everywhere, and she had circles under her eyes thanks to several weeks of night-owling with vampires. She wasn’t exactly a morning person normally, more of a midday person, preferring to stay up late and sleep late. But there was a big difference between staying up late and staying up all damn night.
Not that she cared about her sleep-deprived looks, or not overmuch, anyway. Her blood would taste the same whether she was tired or not. Her scowl was aimed at the scooped neckline of the sweater she’d chosen for the evening. She wanted to seduce Aden, the overbearing jerk, but she didn’t want to hang out an all-you-can-eat sign. Still, she’d chosen the sweater with seduction in mind, and it did fit perfectly. It accented the figure she worked hard to maintain, and the burnt-gold color brought out the copper highlights in her hair. Also, being cashmere, it wouldn’t shed all over her black wool slacks. It was just that neckline.
Her phone rang, and she spun away from the mirror, grabbing it and checking caller ID, frowning when it wasn’t the call she was waiting for. She answered anyway.
“Hi, Will,” she said.
“Hey, Sid. Let’s do dinner tomorrow.”
“You’ll be in town?” she asked, ignoring the obvious that, of course, he’d be in town, or why else would he be asking her to dinner?
“Driving up in the morning, staying until Saturday,” Will said cheerfully. He didn’t even call her on the stupid question, but then he wouldn’t. William W. Englehart was a genuinely nice guy. The guy her parents assumed would be her husband someday. Once upon a time, Sid had thought so, too. He was handsome and charming and had outstanding career prospects. He was a considerate lover and an excellent dinner companion. All the checkmarks were in the right column on the perfect boyfriend list.
There was only one thing missing. Passion. Sid didn’t love him. At least, not that way.
“I’m not sure about dinner,” she told him now. “I’m doing a lot of work at night. How about lunch on Wednesday instead?”
“Still doing the big story?” From someone else, the question might have sounded mocking, but not from Will.
“Yeah. I’m making progress, though.”
“Good for you. It’s a date. Lunch Wednesday, and maybe I’ll talk you into dinner later.”
That was the other thing about Will. He didn’t love her that way either, but he was more than willing to marry her, because he agreed with their parents. They would be an excellent match, and he bought into the whole dynastic marriage idea. In her more depressing moments, she sometimes envisioned their future together, with each of them discreetly finding the passion they desired outside their marriage, and neither one caring as long as the only children—and, of course, there would be children—were unquestionably from the marital bed.
Sid sighed. “Call me Wednesday morning. We’ll set a place and time,” she told him. Her phone beeped an incoming call. She checked the ID. At last, she thought to herself, and tried to keep the relief out of her voice when she told Will, “I’ve got to get that. I’ll see you then, okay?”
“Righto. See you then.”
Righto. That was Will in a nutshell.
Shoving aside all thoughts of Will and their parents’ plans for a wedding, she clicked over to Professor Dresner’s incoming call. She’d phoned the professor hours ago, hoping to get tips on how best to go about getting what she wanted from Aden tonight. She’d all but given up on getting a call back in time for her meeting with the big vampire.
“Professor Dresner,” she answered the phone. “Thanks for calling back.”
“I’m so sorry, Sidonie. I was at a wedding. They actually made an announcement before the ceremony, asking everyone to turn off their phones. Just like they do in the movies, although the wedding was far less entertaining, unfortunately. But what can I do for you?”
“I met Aden last night,” she said excitedly. “He’s one of those you told me about, right? The ones you think are most likely to win the entire challenge?”
“Aden, yes. He’s one of half a dozen, but certainly in the running. So you met him?”
Sid nodded in her excitement. “We didn’t have time to do much more than exchange numbers, but he’s invited me to meet him at his office tonight. And that’s why I called you. I need to know the best approach. Do I seduce him? Or go for a business approach? And what about clothes? I’m afraid if I show too much skin, he won’t take me seriously. But if—”
“Sid, Sid,” Dresner said, laughing. “You’ve overthinking this. First, I need to know how serious you are. How far are you willing to go?”
“I’ll do what it takes,” Sid said determinedly.
“All right, then. You need to go all in and dress for seduction. You have to understand that the only thing most vampires want or need from humans is blood. And that’s doubly true for the really powerful ones, many of whom are so distanced from their human roots that they barely see us as sentient anymore.”
Sid groaned.
“I did warn you about what might be necessary when you first set out on this path.”
“I know,” Sid sighed. “And don’t worry. I’ll do what it takes. I might hate it, but I’ll do it.”
“That’s the spirit. I’m sorry, Sid, but if there’s nothing else, my feet are killing me, and there’s a hot bath calling my name.”
“Oh, of course. Thank you so much for calling back and for the advice. I really do appreciate your time.”
“I don’t mind at all. This is one of the more interesting things I’ve done lately. Academics isn’t all excitement and adventure, you know.”
Sid laughed dutifully, though she had no idea what the woman meant by that. Was she suggesting that academics sometimes was exciting? That didn’t seem likely, especially in sociology, but it took all kinds, she supposed.
“Okay,” Sid said, avoiding the whole excitement issue. “Enjoy your bath, and I’ll let you know how it turns out.”
She tossed the phone onto the bed, then turned to face the reality staring back at her from the mirror. Was her outfit sexy enough? Damn. She stepped out of her heels and unzipped the wool slacks, then stomped over to her closet, thinking all the while that she must be certifiable. It was fucking freezing outside, and here she was trading in her tights and wool slacks for silk stockings and a skirt.
She cursed as she smoothed the tight skirt over her hips, wishing her target could have been anyone but a vampire. She had to admit that the skirt looked better, though. And, in any other context, the sweater would have been considered modest. There was no cleavage. It was only her neck that was on full display. But then she was seducing a vampire, and if she wanted Aden’s cooperation, she was going to have to play his game. Hadn’t she just told Dresner that she’d do whatever it took to get revenge for Janey’s death? Well, whatever it took had just become the necessity of flashing some skin.
And if it also meant letting Aden take a bite, as it almost certainly would?
She ignored the thrill of excitement that thought generated, telling herself that her nipples were peaking because there was a cold draft in the room. This was Chicago, after all, and the wind was a nearly constant buffeting against the windows.
“All right, that’s it,” she told her reflection. “Buck up, Sid.”
But she still felt better once she’d pulled on her long, wool coat along with a warm scarf. Maybe it would be cold in Aden’s office. Maybe she’d have an excuse to keep the scarf on.
“SIDONIE REID IS here, my lord.”
Aden swung the chair around from his contemplation of the Chicago skyline and met Bastien’s amused expression.
“She’s wearing a scarf,” Bastien explained.
“Show her in,” Aden said. “And, Bastien,” he added before his lieutenant could open the door. “Turn up the he
at.”
He grinned. “Right away, my lord.”
Aden leaned back, not bothering to get up when Sidonie marched into his office. And that’s what she did. She marched, determination furrowing her brow and tightening her full lips into a pinched pout. Did she realize that her resolve to resist his seduction only made her that much more irresistible? That her very defiance was a blatant challenge to his dominance as an apex predator? He smirked privately, thinking of the many ways he could deal with her deliberate provocation, and he would deal with it. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t play with her first.
“Ms. Reid,” he said lazily, “you’re late.”
She blinked in surprise, and he wondered if she’d expected him to pounce on her the minute she walked through the door.
“It . . . I couldn’t get a taxi, and it was too cold to walk. I had to wait—”
“You should have called. I would have sent my car.”
Her pouty lips opened in a silent oh before she visibly gathered her wits and came closer to his desk. She surprised him by unwinding her scarf and shouldering out of her winter coat. So he surprised her in turn, using his vampire speed to get behind her and play the gentleman by helping her with the coat, then tossing it over the couch against the far wall.
She gasped in startlement, giving him a surprised look over her shoulder. A look that quickly reverted to irritation when she saw Aden’s satisfied smile. But his smile only grew broader when he saw the elegant line of pale skin bared by the swooping neckline of her sweater.
Well played, Ms. Reid, he thought to himself. Well played, indeed.
“That’s a lovely sweater,” he commented, enjoying the flush of color the compliment brought to her cheeks. With skin like that, she’d be hard-pressed to conceal her emotions. Not that he needed visible proof of such things. Her fluttering pulse and pounding heart, her delightful scent, told him much more than her blush. But he appreciated the beauty of it all the same.
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