Chapter 3 #2
“There are many good reasons to go to his clubs, but you’ll discover that firsthand, right? That’s where you plan to catch him next?”
Philippe nodded. “I thought being on his home turf would be most comfortable for him. Put him at ease.”
Jullien chuckled again. “Into the lion’s den. Well, it might prove to be to your salvation that I don’t think he prefers to mess around with other vampires.”
“Really?”
“Don’t get me wrong. He has. I’ve heard from plenty that he’s quite amazing, but if you watch him, he skirts most vampires in favor of the humans in his club.”
Philippe smirked. “It makes sense. Humans are far easier to manage. They offer up less of a threat.”
Jullien was still chortling softly to himself when he pushed out of the chair and crossed the room to stand in front of Philippe.
Lifting one hand, he cupped the back of Philippe’s neck and pulled him in until their foreheads touched.
“Whatever you have to tell yourself. Just be careful lying to yourself, and don’t underestimate him.
If you’re not a Varik, you are no one to him,” he said in a whisper.
His first instinct was to scoff at Jullien’s warning, but he knew his friend’s words came from the heart. And Rafe was more of a distraction than Philippe had initially expected. He would be careful. There were too many people depending on him.
“I’ll remember,” Philippe said.
Jullien released him and started to walk toward the double doors, likely heading to his own room. “He wished to hand our request over to his brother. Winter.”
Jullien froze. Philippe was sure his friend didn’t breathe for several seconds.
It was a fear they had discussed when they first considered speaking with the Variks.
Winter Varik was a dangerous adversary. There were whispers all around their world about him, but there was little in the way of hard fact. Not that many cared about the facts.
When a vampire suddenly turned up slaughtered or simply disappeared from existence, it was hinted that it was Winter’s doing.
When someone threatened a Varik and met a messy end, it was Winter.
When a vampire withdrew his or her complaints against the Variks, it was Winter standing in the shadows with a fistful of frightening secrets.
Philippe wasn’t sure how much of it he believed, but he knew there must be some kernel of truth to all the rumors.
And asking the Variks for assistance meant putting the Arsenaults within his cold, blue sights. Until now, his clan had no reason to catch Winter’s attention. They couldn’t afford him looking too closely at them. Would a word from him sway his brothers into not helping?
“We knew this was a risk,” Jullien said carefully.
“I told Rafe that we would deal only with him. Only he would have safe passage into our domain.”
Jullien frowned and looked over his shoulder at Philippe. “But does that make them more suspicious of us?”
“I think we’re seen as cautious. I plan to deal with Rafe personally to show my seriousness and dedication to this task. That has to count for something.”
Jullien’s frown softened. “It does.”
“Any news on Piper?”
Jullien bowed his head for a second. “None,” he replied, still facing the doors.
“She’s still out there. Alive. We’ll find her.”
Jullien nodded. “We will,” he murmured, but his voice lacked any confidence. “Good night.”
Jullien slipped silently out of the room and closed the door behind him.
Philippe sighed and shoved a hand through his hair, pushing it from his forehead.
His body felt heavy, and there was a bone-deep ache in his limbs.
He wanted nothing more than to climb into his bed and not move until the next sunset.
And yet, his mind zinged with thoughts as he endlessly replayed every word Rafe said, every little movement, even the haunting smell of his cologne.
Toeing out of his shoes, Philippe reached behind him and grabbed a handful of the sweater he was wearing, pulling it over his head. He held it in both hands for a moment and then tossed it onto the dresser. He was suddenly too tired to even undress.
He shuffled over to the old chair Jullien had been sitting in minutes ago and dropped into the well-worn cushions.
His finger traced along the abstract pattern made with the faded gold thread while his mind turned over Rafe Varik again.
The vampire really did seem too sexy to be real, and if his smirk and laughing eyes were anything to go by, Rafe knew his effect on others.
But there was more to him than his in-your-face sexuality and brash attitude.
Before deciding to speak to the Variks, Philippe had gathered together any and all information he could on the four brothers.
It wasn’t a lot: Marcus was the serious protector.
Beltran was painted as the absent-minded professor lost in his research.
Winter…was an icy threat. And Rafe was simply the fun-loving jokester no one took seriously.
There was no doubt they were all wrong about Rafe.
He was just as protective of his brothers as they were of him.
And then there was that too-brief flash of pain when Rafe thought Philippe would rather be talking to Marcus.
He didn’t think that was ego. Rafe seemed too aware of his own inflated ego.
No, that had been a chink in his self-confidence.
A niggling doubt Rafe was unable to silence.
There was also the rumor that all the brothers played instruments thanks to their mother.
It had taken some digging, but he learned that Rafe played the violin.
He hated to think about how much time he’d spent during their meeting staring at Rafe’s hands.
Long, nimble fingers seemed to dance in the air as he spoke.
Strong hands. How would they look as they caressed a violin? How would it sing for him?
Did he still play following the brutal murder of his mother?
Philippe frowned and shoved aside the thought of Rafe no longer playing. The world needed his music, even if only his brothers heard him play.
Sighing, Philippe rubbed his eyes. Sunrise was only a couple of hours away, and he’d already spent several hours searching for Piper even before he’d met with Rafe.
He needed to climb into bed and stop thinking of Rafe.
His attention was better served concentrating on Piper and their current problem.
Poor, sweet Piper.
She was only twelve years old as a vampire but nearly seventy years old as a human when she was turned.
The vampirism had revitalized her old body, giving her strength and agility she had not enjoyed in decades, but she had to mask so much of her movement out of fear of drawing too much attention to herself.
She’d been with them for only a few years after hiding in the shadows for so long.
As far as he could tell, Piper had no associates outside of the Arsenaults, no one she would regularly see or talk to. It was Philippe’s understanding that she left the manor only to hunt. When she was in the manor, she largely kept to herself.
Her disappearance made no sense to him, to anyone within the clan.
Sadly, she was not the first of their clan to mysteriously disappear, and Philippe knew without a doubt that she would not be the last.