Chapter Four
Viktor cut the engine and sat motionless, his hands still maintaining their stranglehold around the steering wheel.
The Raven Estate loomed before them - a sprawling Gothic manor built from gray stone that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
Gargoyles perched along the roofline, their features worn smooth by centuries of weather, and narrow windows stared down like suspicious eyes.
I fucking hate this place. In hindsight, Viktor knew he’d always hated the place.
He’d lived in the gloomy estate, back when he’d been young enough - relatively speaking - to believe that being a part of an established vampire society had something to offer him.
That was before he’d realized that the “noble traditions” Claudius and his ilk prattled on about were just elaborate justifications for treating everyone else like livestock or entertainment.
And because of that, I walked away and never looked back.
“Viktor.” Ant’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. “We need to get out of the car.”
Actually, they didn’t. As far as Viktor was concerned, he didn’t want to get out of the car at all.
In fact, even turning off the engine had felt wrong.
What he should have been doing was turning his new SUV around and burning rubber to get back out of the gates and away from the oppressive atmosphere that had hit well before they’d gained access to the main house.
But I can’t do any of that. Viktor wouldn’t let his mate down, and that meant he had to get out of the car. They had a job to do. Ant had a scene reading to do that would verify what Viktor already knew – that Claudius was a murderous asshole.
Forcing his fingers to release the wheel, Viktor reached for the door handle.
The moment he stepped out onto the gravel drive, the weight of the estate’s magic pressed down on him like a physical force.
It wasn’t just the wards, although those were formidable enough.
It was the accumulated power of centuries of vampire habitation, layer upon layer of blood magic and territorial marking that screamed this place belongs to us to any paranormal creature with the senses to feel it.
Able jumped down from the back seat, immediately pressing against Ant’s leg. The dog’s ears were flat, his tail low. He was a smart dog who knew what danger felt like.
Ant got out of the car as if they were ready to go to dinner, instead of breaching a vampire’s lair, the act of straightening his jacket was the only sign he was in any way nervous.
He’d dressed in one of his professional outfits - charcoal slacks, white button-down, and a navy blazer.
The clothes of someone who expected to be taken seriously.
Claudius won’t see it that way. He’ll see prey dressed up in fancy clothes.
The estate’s front doors swung open before they’d taken three steps toward the entrance.
Five vampires emerged in a choreographed display that was pure Claudius, who never did anything that hadn’t been calculated to have maximum impact.
Four guards flanked a central figure, dressed in modern tactical gear that looked absurd against the historic backdrop.
Although Viktor noticed that all of them carried themselves like warriors from a different age, which they probably were.
Claudius collected vampires the way some people collected antiques.
And there, in the center of the formation, was Claudius himself.
Viktor’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached.
Claudius looked exactly as Viktor remembered - tall and lean, with sharp features that would’ve been handsome if not for the cruel set to his mouth.
His dark hair was pulled back in a style that had been fashionable three centuries ago, and his eyes were the pale gray of winter ice.
He wore an immaculately tailored three-piece suit in deep burgundy, because of course he did.
Claudius had always been obsessed with appearances.
“Viktor.” Claudius’s voice carried across the driveway, smooth, cultured, and dripping with false cheer. “How utterly unexpected to see you again after all these years. I heard you’d been living in the gutters with the humans, but I confess I didn’t quite believe it.”
Every word was a calculated insult. Gutters.
As if Viktor’s life for the past few decades - working for Tony, building his own reputation, finding his fucking mate - had been nothing more than slumming.
To be fair, the assessment of his life with Tony was probably exactly that, but to disregard his whole life… Viktor’s vision flickered.
No. Not here. Not now.
He forced his breathing to slow, but his fangs were already dropping, and his nails had started to sharpen into claws. His second form lurked just beneath his skin, desperate to burst free and remind Claudius exactly what Viktor was capable of when provoked.
In the meantime, Claudius’s gaze swept over Ant in a dismissive once-over that lasted less than a second before returning to Viktor. “I see you’ve brought your...pet. How quaint. I didn’t realize the Justiciary was allowing humans to observe official investigations now.”
Tell me why I can’t rip his fucking head off. He just called my mate a pet.
Viktor’s muscles locked as he fought against the transformation that wanted to rip through him.
His second form was a thing of nightmares – a massive and unstoppable force.
It was what vampires became when they stopped pretending to be civilized.
And Viktor was very close to showing Claudius just how uncivilized he could be. His vampire side adored Ant.
One of the guards moved slightly, his hand drifting toward the weapon at his hip. They’d noticed Viktor’s struggle. Good. Let them be afraid.
“Actually,” Claudius continued, his tone sickeningly pleasant, “I’m surprised you bothered to bring a blood-slave at all.
Surely the investigation won’t take long enough to require feeding.
” He smiled, showing just a hint of fang.
“Though if you find yourself peckish, I’m sure we can arrange something more.
..appropriate than whatever human you’ve been keeping. ”
The world went crimson as Viktor fought against his second form. His vampire wanted out in the worst way, and in about ten more seconds, he was going to tear Claudius’s fucking head off his fucking shoulders and…
Viktor.
Ant’s voice slid through their mind-link, calm, steady, and completely unbothered. It carried with it a wave of absolute tranquility, the mental equivalent of cool water washing over burning skin.
I need you to remain in control. I can’t conduct my investigation if you’re busy decorating the driveway with Claudius’s internal organs.
The cool tones and imagery the words described shocked a laugh out of Viktor - or would have, if he hadn’t been in the middle of a transformation. Instead, the sound came out as something between a growl and a wheeze.
He called you a pet, Viktor snarled back through their bond. A fucking blood-slave.
Yes, I heard. He has the conversational skills of a particularly dim undergraduate and the fashion sense of a Regency-era funeral director.
Ant’s mental voice remained perfectly level.
None of which matters. We’re here to investigate a murder, not to engage in dominance displays with an insecure eight-hundred-year-old who’s overcompensating for something.
Viktor’s control returned - the red receded from his vision, his second form remained alert, although mollified by Ant’s calm presence. His claws retracted, and his fangs - with great reluctance - slid back to a more normal length.
That’s better, Ant sent, approval warming the edges of his thoughts. Now, let me handle this.
Ant stepped forward, moving past Viktor with the kind of confidence that came from being a Level Twelve mage who could reduce the entire estate to rubble if sufficiently motivated. He stopped precisely ten feet from Claudius - close enough to be polite, far enough to maintain professional distance.
“Claudius Raven, I’m Doctor Anthony Channon,” Ant said in his most deadpan academic voice, the one he used when delivering lectures at the Mage Academy.
“I’m a Level Twelve mage, a specialist in psychometric scene reading, and the lead investigator assigned to this case by the Justiciary.
I’m here to determine the circumstances of Ronald Finch’s death.
You’ve clearly already met my mate, Viktor, who will be accompanying me throughout the investigation as both my personal protection and as a consultant familiar with vampire territorial customs.”
The words dropped into the silence like stones into water. Claudius blinked. It was a tiny reaction, barely noticeable, but Viktor had known the bastard for centuries. That blink meant he was surprised.
“Mate?” Claudius repeated, his smooth facade cracking just slightly. “You and this...mage...are claiming a mate bond?”
“We’re not claiming anything,” Ant replied, his tone suggesting he was correcting a student who’d mixed up basic facts.
“We are mated. It’s an observable fact, much like gravity or the chemical composition of water.
Now, if you’re quite finished with the posturing, I have a crime scene to examine.
The Justiciary expects my preliminary report within forty-eight hours, and I’d prefer not to waste time on irrelevant social rituals. ”
Viktor bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. Only Ant could make hundreds of years of vampire protocol sound like “irrelevant social rituals” and somehow get away with it.
Claudius’s eyes had gone very cold. “You’re claiming that a vampire of Viktor’s age and power would mate with a human?”