Chapter 2
Two
“Marcus has lost his bloody mind.”
Rafe leaned heavily against the bar, sipping his blood-infused scotch.
He glanced over at the violin resting within reach in its case.
The warm red-and-brown wood seemed to glow beside the red satin interior, calling to him, but he picked up his glass instead and tossed back the last of his drink.
The calming song of the violin or the hypnotic slide of the bow across the strings would not help this time.
He opened his mouth again to continue, but Lola held up a finger, halting his words.
She was standing on the other side of the bar that graced the living room of his new penthouse.
The crystal decanter clutched in her hand hovered over his now-empty glass.
Rafe gave a small nod, and she refilled it as his ears finally picked up the soft patter of bare feet across his marble floor.
A woman appeared in the doorway leading from the master bedroom.
Her hair was more than a little mussed, and the sparkly purple lipstick she’d been wearing was now missing, though there was still plenty of it smeared across Rafe’s body.
Strappy black pumps were hanging off one finger as she crossed the room with a sated smile.
As she reached Rafe, she gave a little spin, presenting her back to him and the zipper that was only halfway up its track.
“Could you?” she asked softly.
Rafe almost missed the little smirk Karen, Sharon…no, Tara, tossed at Lola. His companion rolled her eyes and grabbed a glass for herself.
Pinching the tab between his thumb and forefinger, Rafe slid it slowly up her back and placed a kiss to her neck.
To the exact place he’d fed from her just a couple of hours earlier.
Not that she remembered that part. No, her brain was likely a bit fuzzy, but then she didn’t seem too worried about it after the multiple orgasms he’d given her in his bed just afterward.
“There you are, my dear,” Rafe purred.
Tara turned to face him. Rising up on the tips of her toes, she brushed a kiss across his cheek. “See you around,” she whispered and strolled toward the elevator that would take her to the ground floor, where he had a car already waiting for her.
As the elevator doors slid shut, Rafe turned his attention to Lola, who was staring at him with a look of boredom. “What were we talking about?”
“Your brother being bloody insane,” Lola supplied in a less-than-amused voice.
Rafe growled and picked up his replenished glass before pacing away from the bar and into the living room proper.
Beyond the L-shaped leather couch and matching chairs was a wall of windows looking out on Hartford, Connecticut.
It wasn’t a horrible little town. He would have preferred to be in New York or Chicago, but Bel needed to be in Connecticut for his work—not that Rafe understood it, but going down that rabbit hole with his twin only gave him a headache.
And he didn’t have time for that headache when he had this one, thanks to Marcus.
Dear older brother was demanding he meet with the head of the Arsenault clan. That had to be the single biggest mistake of Marcus’s very long life. Why would Marcus ever want Rafe anywhere near vampire politics? It was madness.
Rafe’s entire raison d’être was to feed, fuck, and party.
Life didn’t need to be more complicated than that.
Over the past century, he’d opened one nightclub after another across Europe and now the United States.
People flocked to his clubs for the excitement and freedom.
And it didn’t hurt that the nightclubs offered him the perfect feeding grounds when he wasn’t in the mood to hunt beyond his own personal domain.
And there for nearly all of it was Lola.
He watched her reflection in the black windows as she continued to stare at him from behind the bar. Without her heels, Lola stood a petite five foot four with long black hair that was currently braided down her back. She was swathed in her usual black leather with shiny silver clasps and chains.
They’d found each other in Spain so many years ago.
It had started out as a playful hunting companionship with some sex here and there, but even after the sex stopped, she stuck around, moving when he did.
When he started opening his nightclubs, he hired her on as a manager, bouncer, and assistant.
She was good at cutting through tiresome nonsense and getting things done.
Now he couldn’t imagine life without her. She was his constant companion. His avenging shadow. And maybe his own personal bullshit detector. Other than his brothers, Lola was the only one to call him on his nonsense, which he appreciated under most circumstances.
But maybe not now.
He could see it in the frown pulling at her full, red lips. She had something to say about Marcus’s request, or maybe it was about Rafe complaining about his so-called duty.
“You need to take this seriously, Rafe,” Lola warned in her sultry, low voice.
Lovely. Her issue was with him.
“If Marcus wanted serious, then he should have asked Winter. Or even Bel. Better yet, he should be taking care of this himself,” he told her reflection.
“Yeah, the best choice would have been for Marcus to handle it, but I would imagine he’s got his hands full right now with both a fledgling and the Ministry. I really don’t see him handing either of those responsibilities over to you.”
Rafe’s lips curled a little. Lola wasn’t wrong.
Ethan Cline was a recent addition to the Varik family.
His dear older brother had turned him—no, that was wrong.
They’d all turned Ethan less than a month ago.
Making Ethan a vampire, bringing him into their little fold, had been a family endeavor.
The only one who had been missing was Aiden, their own maker, but that was understandable.
The death of his beloved Julianna, Rafe’s mother, was consuming him.
He violently shoved aside thoughts of Julianna and focused on young Ethan. It was more than a little surprising that stoic and stuffy Marcus had found the love of his life, a mate to accompany him through the long centuries ahead of him.
And Ethan was a good match for Marcus. For all his brother’s tedious rules and overprotectiveness, Ethan was equally playful and snarky. Even after death, the young man was full of life and laughter.
There was no denying the pang of jealousy that soured Rafe’s stomach when he saw Marcus and Ethan together.
That was probably the most disturbing thing of all.
Rafe had the perfect life; he gulped pleasure and companionship down each night.
Always a new companion. His bed always full.
Gorging himself on laughter and ecstasy at every turn.
So how could he be jealous of that little shared look between Marcus and Ethan?
Their secret touches and knowing smiles?
That was another line of thought he didn’t want to pursue.
The point was that Ethan was still adjusting to his fangs, hunting, feeding, and figuring out vampirism’s impact on his formerly human body.
He’d yet to hear what Ethan’s special gift was, but it could still be months, if not years, before that power made itself known.
It had taken Rafe months to uncover his because…
well, he was just naturally charming. But there was now a little extra dose of magic to his charm when he wanted it.
With humans, it was like a form of hypnosis, getting inside their cluttered little brains and commanding them to do the most wicked things, then wiping away all memory of the act. Not that he needed to use his powers when it came to sex.
No, humans didn’t need any extra pushes to climb into his bed.
But the “charm” came in handy when feeding.
His gift worked on some vampires, but it wasn’t too often, and so many got pissy when he tried.
But beyond Ethan, Marcus undoubtedly had his hands full keeping the Ministry from ordering all their deaths. Handling the ruling body of the vampire world was certainly not something his brothers wanted him to oversee.
It wasn’t so much that the Ministry was upset with the Variks for dismantling the Black Wolf clan. That had been deserved and justified since Minerva and her flock of bastards attacked them first.
No, it was Bel’s experiments, which had finally yielded a nasty concoction that could kill vampires quickly and efficiently. Not something the ruling vampires wanted getting around.
The Ministry had never been fond of Bel’s experiments and theories. Now they were looking justified in their disapproval.
Rafe would not trade Marcus for the task of dealing with the Ministry.
But still…who in their right mind would send him as an emissary to the Arsenaults?
“You need to take this seriously. You’re a Varik. You’ve got clout within the clan.”
“First,” Rafe snapped, spinning around to face Lola again, “we are not a clan. I don’t care for people constantly making that mistake. The Variks are simply a family. Clans take in outsiders.”
“Ethan—”
“Ethan is a Varik through marriage,” Rafe quickly countered. He pushed on before Lola could distract him further. “And if we were a clan, Aiden would be the head of our clan. Not Marcus.”
Folding her arms over her ample chest, Lola raised one sculpted eyebrow at him, unmoved by his sharp tone. “And Aiden isn’t around. He rarely is. Which means Marcus is the head of the clan and you, my sweet pain in the ass, are the little prince. Suck it up.”
Rafe smiled at her wide enough to reveal his perfect white fangs. “Normally, my favorite thing, lovely Lola.”
“Whether the Variks call themselves a clan or not is a moot point. The rest of the vampire world sees you as a clan. A very closed, secretive clan. And that creates rumors. Everyone believes the Variks are a powerful and influential clan. Taking out the Black Wolf clan doesn’t help those rumors.
The Variks have painted targets on their backs. ”