Seducing the Dark Prince

by Jane Kindred

  “Sometimes.”

  She was quiet a moment before taking a preparatory breath. “There’s something wrong with all this. Edgar retiring without warning, giving Lucien sole control of the company. I didn’t see it coming. The way he’s always talked about Lucien, I half expected him to eventually give the company to me after he got tired of waiting for Lucien to grow up. He’s given me all the financial responsibilities—I’ve already been handling them, but he’s officially making me the CFO—but the company will be Lucien’s.” Lucy paused. “And there’s a silent partner.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning my father has signed over a percentage of the company to an investor who doesn’t want to be publicly connected to it. I suppose a secret partner is a better word for it. He wants to benefit from our success and meddle in the business without anyone holding him responsible.”

  A chill ran up Theia’s spine as Lucy spoke. “Who is this secret partner?”

  Lucy gave her a sidelong eye roll. “It wouldn’t really be a secret if I shared it with you, now would it?”

  “What if I guessed?”

  Noncommittal, Lucy waited with an expression of mild interest.

  “Would it happen to be Carter Hanson Hamilton?”

  Lucy’s dark brows lifted. “I guess you really are psychic.”

  “Not exactly. It’s just what I’d expect of him. I suppose you know our history?”

  “Who doesn’t? The murder trial was highly publicized.”

  “He also tried to steal my sister Phoebe’s soul and have her killed while he was in prison last year, and he sent a Nazi who was obsessed with Norse mythology after Leo Ström. The creep kidnapped me and unleashed a draugr on Rhea.”

  Lucy’s eyes registered sudden understanding. “So that’s what was up with that. We got an alert from one of our staff psychics that someone was using one of the holy relics from the Third Reich to raise the dead, but it was handled before we had a chance to investigate.” She studied Theia. “So Ström sent the Nazi’s soul to Náströnd, I take it?”

  “And destroyed the draugr, yes.”

  Lucy laughed. “My baby brother has more in common with that Viking than he thinks.”

  “Baby brother?”

  “Technically, I was born the day before he was—11:58 p.m. I ought to be the heir, but our father is a traditionalist. Which is why I can’t imagine him agreeing to a partnership with Hamilton. We’ve consulted for him in the past, but Edgar could never stand him. Said Hamilton was an opportunistic amateur who didn’t respect the limits of power. This whole thing came completely out of the blue, and it has me worried. And Hamilton has already sent me inappropriate emails. I don’t know what he thinks is going to happen, but if he imagines for one minute that I’m one of the perks of his partnership, he’s going to be sorely disappointed. If he so much as looks at me, he’s going to lose his balls.”

  Lucy seemed to realize she wasn’t alone in the car, and she drew herself upright. “At any rate, he’s a problem, and I don’t like problems. Whatever he has planned for Smok International, I intend to be a thorn in his side. But don’t think I’m not pleased as punch about Lucien dumping you. I’d hate for you to make the mistake of thinking that this cozy little conversation means we’re friends. And Lucien has nothing to do with this. I’m not going to mention to him that I’ve had any contact with you, and I’m not going to try to persuade him that he’s making a mistake.”

  “Fair enough.” Theia would find a way to get Lucien to talk to her. She opened the door, since it looked like the conversation was over. “Thank you for telling me. You didn’t have to.”

  “I didn’t do it for you. Lucien has enough on his plate to deal with. He doesn’t need you complicating things.”

  Theia paused with her hand on the door. “Has it occurred to you that Carter might be using necromancy on your father?”

  “You mean with a step-in?” Lucy shook her head. “No. He’s definitely himself, even if his actions are unusual. A step-in wouldn’t be able to fool anyone for a prolonged period of time. And I’ve talked to him at length.”

  Theia nodded and got out but turned back once more before closing the door. “Don’t underestimate Carter Hamilton. One thing you can be certain of is that he has a plan. And he’s obsessed with other people’s power.”

  Chapter 21

  Theia had left him another message. He ought to block her number if he was serious about this. And he had to be serious about this. She was dangerous to him. Even without the role her blood might play in the fulfillment of the Smok curse, being with Theia meant losing access to Smok’s labs. And even if Lucy was willing to defy Edgar’s wishes and allow Lucien access to the research, it was useless without access to the scientists working on his cure.

  Until now, developing the anti-transformative had been a fail-safe, something to fall back on in case the legend turned out to be true. If, at some distant point in the future, his father’s death triggered what lay dormant in Lucien’s blood, Lucien would simply be able to take a pill and suppress the infernal transformation. But the warning his father had sent him about Rafe, Dev and Leo rang true. Which meant Theia’s interest him—his very attraction to her—was fated. It was the Lilith blood that wanted to bring forth the devil in him.

  Lucien turned off his phone, unwilling to sever the ties completely. Which was a bad sign, and he knew it. But he wasn’t ready. Not yet. What he needed now was a distraction.

  * * *

  Polly had brought in a good crowd this evening. As Lucien threaded his way through it, he discovered why. Polly had booked a performer. To anyone unfamiliar with the clientele that frequented Polly’s, it looked like an erotic dance performance. But the anemic-looking blonde was obviously a bloodsucker groupie, and it became apparent as she worked the pole and stripped down to her G-string that she had tracks in the less visible places that vampires with discretion preferred for feeding. The purpose of the striptease wasn’t to titillate sexually, it was to arouse the vamps. And once she had, they came to the stage—not to put dollar bills in her G-string but to taste.

  She clearly got a sexual charge of her own out of it. Lucien looked away in disgust as the bloodsuckers crowded around, dipping their fangs into the marks at the undersides of her arms, beneath her breasts, inside her thighs, and sucking greedily. The donor moaned and crooned with pleasure and finally climaxed loudly, and the crowd cheered.

  “Not your thing, baby?” Polly smiled down at him, dressed tonight in poison-green silk with long aquamarine locks to match. She could easily have swum out of a pre-Raphaelite painting.

  “Blood porn? No. Never. But then you know that.”

  Polly slipped into the seat opposite him, managing to give him a sympathetic look. “I haven’t forgotten. If I’d known you were planning on making an appearance here again so soon, I’d have moved the performance to another night.”

  “No, you wouldn’t, but it’s sweet of you to say so.” Lucien downed his third bourbon.

  Polly raised an eyebrow at his empty glass and signaled one of her staff to bring him another. “Anything bothering you? You usually don’t drink alone these days.”

  “I’m celebrating.” Lucien tried to smile and felt like he couldn’t remember how. He was an alien pretending to be human. He gave it up and raised his glass after the waiter refilled it. “You’re looking at the new CEO of Smok International.”

  Polly took the bottle from the waiter and picked up the glass he’d set in front of her. “Congratulations.” She watched Lucien over the rim as she sipped. “Do I detect a note of dissatisfaction with your good fortune?”

  “You haven’t asked if Edgar’s kicked the bucket.” Lucien took another drink, and Polly refilled it. “He hasn’t, by the way. He just decided out of the blue to retire and turn the whole thing over to me.”

  “And there’s a catch,
of course.”

  With a nod, he drank again. “No dirty Marchant blood allowed.”

  One green eyebrow twitched. “You mean Carlisle blood, I take it.”

  “Same thing.”

  “You like this Carlisle girl. A great deal.”

  Lucien shrugged and emptied his glass.

  “Sorry, sweetie. I told you no good would come of that association, but I hate to see you like this.”

  The suckfest on stage was getting louder. They were practically having a vampire orgy right in the middle of Polly’s Grotto. The donor had been lifted into the air on her back—crowd surfing—so they didn’t have to crouch to feed. Lucien was starting to wish he’d brought his crossbow.

  He glared at Polly. “How far are you planning to let them go? They’re going to bleed her dry.”

  Polly waived her hand dismissively. “They know the rules. She knows her limits. This isn’t her first performance.”

  “No doubt. She’s reaching another one of her limits right now, from the sound of it.”

  Polly reached across the table to take Lucien’s hand even as she refilled his drink. “This thing is really eating you up. I wish I could do something to help.”

  Lucien laughed. “Is that an offer?”

  Polly smiled knowingly. “There’s always a standing offer for you, baby.” Her thumb rubbed against his palm, a suggestive stroke and press.

  “You’re doing the silent song tonight, I see.”

  Polly’s smile didn’t waver. “We’ve always been so very much in tune.”

  He could take solace in her as he had before, both of them knowing it was only solace. Knowing she had any number of lovers and didn’t need him one bit. Instead, she wanted him. He couldn’t help being flattered. Lucien let his thumb move along the webbing between her thumb and forefinger.

  The sweet scent of violets wafted toward him through the smoky air. The same scent Theia’s skin had as he’d pressed his lips to it.

  “Lucien?”

  He jumped at the sound of Theia’s voice.

  Lucien pulled his hand out of Polly’s—a bit forcefully, because she resisted—and turned to look up, mortified. But it wasn’t Theia. It was her more colorful twin. Rhea stared ice daggers into him with Theia’s gray eyes. And the Viking stood behind her, arms folded and fists clenched like he was resisting punching Lucien in the face.

  Rhea turned her ice daggers on Polly. “Who the hell is this?”

  “This is Polly. She owns the—”

  “Oh, I’ve heard of Polly. Polly the siren. Nice. Jerk.” Rhea turned back to Lucien as Polly raised her eyebrows with amusement. “Theia’s sobbing her eyes out trying to figure out what she did wrong, and it turns out it’s because she’s not some tarted-up sex siren.”

  Polly’s eyes narrowed.

  “Theia didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Rhea’s gaze shifted, fixed over his head at the stage. “Holy shit.” She looked to Lucien once more, her gaze now more fire than ice. “Is this what you’re into? Live sex shows? Theia totally dodged a bullet with you, asshole. Come on, Leo. Let’s go.”

  “It’s not a sex show,” said Lucien. “They’re...” What was the point in finishing that thought, though, really? He took a drink of his topped-off bourbon.

  “They’re drinking her blood,” Polly offered helpfully. “I believe your erstwhile immortal friend here has seen a similar performance a time or two.” Polly smiled at Leo. “Isn’t that right?”

  Leo’s face turned bright red, and he ran his fingers through his untidy reddish-blond hair in a nervous gesture that was amusing given his usual demeanor.

  Rhea glowered, looking up at him. “Leo?”

  “A long time ago,” he muttered. “With Faye.”

  Lucien snorted. He’d drunk just enough to be extremely incautious. “I’ve heard a few things about you and Faye.” He could feel Leo’s eyes on him without looking up.

  Leo took a step closer to the table, the awkward moment having apparently passed. “Care to elaborate?”

  “Talked to a few Valkyries,” said Lucien. “To hear them tell it, you were something of a kept man.” He picked up his drink again. He’d lost count of which number this was. “Kept on a leash.”

  The glass spun out of his hand so fast, it took Lucien a moment to realize Leo had knocked it from his grasp.

  While Lucien was still contemplating the unexpected speed, Leo grabbed his collar in both fists and hauled him from his seat. “Why don’t you say that to my face?”

  Rhea shifted her feet, boots crossed at the ankle as she bit her lip. “Leo, let’s just go. He’s not worth it.”

  Lucien met Leo’s eyes and smiled. “Kept. On. A. Leash.”

  “Oh, shit.” He heard the words from Rhea before he found himself flat on his back on the table with Leo’s fist in his face. He wasn’t really feeling it. Which meant he’d had way more to drink than he wanted to admit.

  He slithered out of Leo’s grasp and hit the back of his head on the table as he dropped to the ground. That smarted a little. It would smart more tomorrow. Lucien scrambled up and dashed past Leo, heading for the door, but Leo caught him by the arm—the arm Lucien had forgotten to see the doctor about. He heard the snap before he felt the thick pop of the solidified ecto gel stretching and bending.

  Leo let go of him, looking slightly nauseous. Rhea’s eyes were wide, and even Polly looked a little green—notwithstanding the evening’s wardrobe choice.

  “What?” Lucien stared at them, swaying slightly. He wasn’t sure if it was the blow to his head or the booze. And then he glanced down and saw his arm pointing the wrong way at the elbow. And a bone sticking out of it. And chartreuse gel oozing from it like an ectoplasmic emanation. Or putrefaction. He wasn’t sure which one of those things made the blood rush out of his head before he dropped.

  Head swimming, he was dimly aware of being carried off the floor to a back room while Polly spoke.

  “I’d happily let him stay here for the night, but I have a business to run at the moment, and I think he needs medical attention.” She seemed weirdly far away.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you would be thrilled to.” Rhea’s voice, dripping with sarcasm. “Which is precisely why he’s going with us.”

  “He’s not our problem,” Leo muttered under his breath.

  “You are the one who knocked...that...out of his arm.” Polly again. “Violence is strictly forbidden in the Grotto, as I’m sure you’re aware. But I’m willing to overlook the infraction if you’ll see that Lucien’s taken care of. I suggest you call Lucy. No doubt she’ll have experience with...whatever that is.”

  “I think she gave him some kind of shot the other night when it was broken,” said Rhea. “Let’s just call her, Leo. We can hand him over to her and be done with it. Her number’s in his phone under Bitch.”

  Lucien giggled.

  Someone was digging in his pockets. He’d left his phone at home so he wouldn’t be tempted to check Theia’s texts.

  “It’s not here,” the Viking growled.

  Lucien made a dismissive motion with his arm, trying to indicate that he didn’t have the phone, but his arm evidently didn’t quite do what it was supposed to, and everyone groaned.

  He opened his eyes, focusing on Polly frowning down at him. “I’ll get an Uber,” he tried to say, but it didn’t sound like that, either.

  “Get Anubis?” Rhea glanced at Leo. “What is he talking about?”

  Leo looked baffled. Lucien started to laugh. That’s when he realized he was insanely drunk and that he was going to regret all of this, and he didn’t care.

  Rhea’s disapproving expression made him laugh harder. “Okay, let’s just get him outside. I’ll call Theia. Maybe she has Lucy’s number.” For some reason, this made Lucien laugh even harder.

  With a growl of disgust,
Leo hauled Lucien off the couch he was lying on, one arm braced under Lucien’s unbroken one. Polly showed them the back way out of her private suite into the alley, and Lucien stumbled along with Leo, giggling like an idiot.

  Rhea walked ahead of them to the parking lot, her phone in her hand. “Thei? We have a bit of a situation here. Lucien’s been injured. Again. Do you have Lucy’s number? He doesn’t have his phone on him.” There was a brief pause. “Okay, well, you don’t have to yell. And Leo didn’t do it. I mean, he did, kind of, but it wasn’t his fault.”

  A cheerful chirp and flash of taillights announced that they’d reached Rhea’s little red car, and Leo opened the door and shoved Lucien into the back.

  Rhea glanced inside dubiously while Lucien tried to fold his legs into it, half reclining. “He’d better not puke in Minnie Driver.” She spoke into the phone again as she got behind the wheel. “Just give us his address, then. We’ll drive him home and he can call Lucy himself.” Rhea listened for a moment. “Oh, for God’s sake. Fine. Then we’re coming to you.”

  * * *

  Someone was operating a jackhammer in the next room. Lucien groaned and tried to cover his ears, only to find his right arm screaming with pain like someone had stuck a knife through it.

  “What. The. Fuck.”

  “Lucien?” The jackhammering came again. Except it probably wasn’t a jackhammer but someone knocking on his door. “Are you awake?”

  He rolled onto his side so he could cover one ear and press the other to the pillow. “No.”

  The door opened, and light flooded the room. Lucien moaned in protest.

  “I brought you some extra-strength aspirin.” It was Theia. He could smell violets. Though he supposed it could be Rhea. Except she wasn’t swearing at him. It was Theia. “Figured you might want it. For a number of reasons.”

  Without opening his eyes, Lucien held out his hand, and Theia placed the pills in his palm. He swallowed them dry before realizing she was holding a glass of water. She set it beside him on the nightstand. His mouth felt like he’d been sucking on gauze. He was probably going to need to sit up and drink that. Eventually. Maybe when he was dead.