Chapter 46 A Piece of Cheesecake
A Piece of Cheesecake
Ronan
The motorcade glided through the desert like a procession of shiny, black beetles set against the ochre backdrop.
The sun was high, but we’d be rolling into Noctis closer to ten p.m. for the meeting with Victor. Asmodiel, the Premier of Ignareth, sat beside me, checking his phone. The hum of the road, the soft tick of his nails as they hit the screen, and the rustling of fabric were all putting me on edge.
I should have brought headphones—I couldn’t stand this sort of silence.
When my knee began to bounce, my dad cleared his throat from the other side of Asmodiel, and I stopped.
I was thirty-one years old, and he was still correcting my fidgeting.
And I was still letting him.
“So,” Asmodiel started, clearing his throat. “How exactly did your mate end up with Victor?”
A low growl punctured the air, and Asmodiel stiffened beside me.
“Does it matter?” my dad answered, crossing his legs. He took out a vaporleaf roll, but didn’t lower the window as he lit it, filling the space with thick, pungent smoke.
It didn’t bother me, because my lungs were already burning with need to fry that vampire fuck to a crisp for what he’d done to my mate, but Asmodiel coughed slightly.
“No, I was just curious what Corvane’s goal was.
I heard he was bringing back Blood Consorts, and I was wondering if I should bother bringing it up during our meeting. ”
Blood Consorts? I quickly took out my phone and checked the news.
PREMIER CORVANE STUNS SYMPHONY CROWD
NOCTIS—Victor Corvane stunned the Grand Symphony last night by bringing his newly claimed witch mate, Sage Hexwood, while still married to Madam Accalia Corvane, mother to his son, Alaric.
Witnesses report he fed openly during the performance, reviving the long-outlawed practice of Blood Consorts.
Several other elite vampire boxes reportedly followed suit, sparking whispers that Corvane may be setting a dangerous new trend among the Noctis upper crust.
“What the fuck?” I growled, my skin heating at the picture of Sage, dressed to the nines, her scars glamoured away aside from that bastard’s claim. She was nearly passed out on his lap while he fed directly from her, in front of everybody.
My dad scowled as he took the phone out of my shaking hand and read the article himself.
He then took another long inhale of his roll and sighed. “This is good news for us, Ronan.”
“Good… good news? Are you fucking kidding me? He’s parading her around like his own personal—”
“Watch your tone, son,” he interrupted. I bit my tongue, my knee starting to bounce again as my hands flexed and curled.
I needed to keep cool. If I went in there fists blazing, I was going to be sloppy. I would make mistakes. And I wouldn’t be able to save Sage if Victor beat me, because if he did, he wouldn’t finish until I was dead.
“As I was saying,” he continued, his pace languid as he returned my phone.
“This works in our favor. I was trying to think of a way to spin Sage leaving Victor after we string him up by his guts tonight that wouldn’t hurt her reputation.
This story, though, frames him as nothing more than a wanton creep.
No one will think we’re lying when we say he faked the mating bond.
We’ll simply say it was a cover for reviving the Blood Consort practice.
Why else would he openly feed from her while maintaining his marriage? ”
He exhaled, filling the small space with even more smoke. “You’ll be a hero.”
Asmodiel’s eyes lit up, and he began typing on his phone. “Yes, this is actually great PR. By this time tomorrow, Ronan Oniguro will be a household name. I’ll have my office draft a—”
“No.”
Asmodiel paused, turning slightly towards me. “No?”
“Did I stutter?”
“N-no, it’s just… this is an excellent spin and—”
My hand shot out like a viper, snatching his wrist in a bone-crushing grip. “Any and all statements involving Sage will be run by me first.”
Yeah, I didn’t know Sage that well. But deep down, my gut was telling me that all Sage would want after today would be to slink back into the safety of obscurity. The less her name appeared in the news, the better.
I finally let go, and he rubbed his aching wrist. “Understood.”
I could feel my dad’s eyes on me as I faced forward again. Calculating, always calculating.
What had that little interaction added up to in his head?
* * *
City lights glinting off our tinted windows as we pulled up to the Mansion, a black stone fortress softened by climbing ivy, lanterns, and manicured hedges. Even from the street, the place radiated wealth and power.
The gate slid open as guards in dark uniforms stepped forward, their eyes scanning every face in the motorcade, looking for weapons or traces of dangerous magic.
One of them motioned for the Premier’s car to halt while two others checked credentials.
Asmodiel handed over a sleek, embossed badge from Ignareth. The guards glanced at it, then at us, their expressions unreadable.
I’d gotten two witch charms, one for me as well as my dad, since his face was plastered in the news almost as much as Asmodiel’s.
They were powerful and completely undetectable so far.
A fact I knew immediately when I recognized one of the guards from the penthouse, while he didn’t spare me a second glance.
He lifted a clipboard and ran a hand over a stack of sheets, methodically ticking boxes. I wondered if Corvane was normally this thorough, or if current circumstances had him feeling especially paranoid.
“Security sweep complete,” one guard finally said. “You may proceed.”
Beyond the gate, the driveway curved past clipped gardens and low fountains, the sound of water echoing faintly. More guards flanked us as we neared the front steps. I kept my hands in my blazer pockets, trying to keep my fires at bay, despite the ever-present taste of ash on my tongue.
I was a furnace ready to explode.
The front doors opened, revealing a grand foyer of marble floors and towering ceilings. The scents of polished wood, waxed stone, and blood hung in the air.
There was always a hint of blood in Noctis.
Servants moved silently along the walls, acknowledging Asmodiel with curt nods.
I recognized every doorway from the maps our inside men had provided, and my pulse thrummed. Not from fear, but from anticipation. Sage was here, inside this very building, and I was coming for her.
A vampire beta woman in a tight skirt and sky-high stilettos clicked her way towards us. “Premier Hellmora, welcome to Noctis. Premier Corvane will meet you in his office. Can I offer you any beverages? Water, tea, coffee?”
“Tea would be fine, thank you.”
She texted his order to someone, and then beckoned us to follow her. “Right this way, please.”
My dad and I flanked Asmodiel, while four more of our men trailed behind us. Adding us to the seven vamps on the payroll made thirteen inside. And then there were twenty more outside, waiting for the signal if things went belly up.
From the intel we’d collected, Victor and Sage were inseparable, and she would likely be at this meeting.
All we needed to do was take him out as quietly as possible, slip her the third witch charm I had ready to go in my pocket, and leave before any of the other guards would know what had happened.
Or burn it all to the ground.
I was fine with either method.
I checked out the decorated walls as we walked. Painting after painting of insufferable vampires long since dead, looking down their stupid noses at the demons invading their space.
The demons planning to kill their descendant.
I had to hide my smile.
Victor’s assistant finally stopped in front of a set of heavy doors, and one of the guards opened them for us. Before I could even look for Sage, I did a double-take at one of the vamps, breath catching in my chest when a familiar face smirked at me.
What the fuck was Draven doing here? And how did he know it was me?
Was he going to help us? Or…
Dammit, that meant Garrick had to be involved somehow, and that hairy asshole had never told me.
I mean, I had blocked his number the second I’d left that bar, but still.
So now I had other pieces on the board, and no fucking idea how to move them. Or when. Or if they even were my pieces. For all I knew, Victor had thrown a couple more zeros Garrick’s way and hired Draven himself to keep Sage “safe.”
Even though she was far from safe as long as she was in Victor’s grasp.
This mission was strung together with nothing but duct tape and a prayer to Ravaric as it was, and now I had to deal with unknown variables.
I took a deep breath, focusing on what was in front of me and what I could control.
The office was wide and imposing. A massive desk sat in front of tall windows curved along one wall, their heavy drapes pulled back to reveal the lights of Noctis beyond. It was as though those who came to speak to the Premier were also dealing with the city-state itself.
Victor’s chair was high-backed and severe, clearly built for someone who expected to dominate every conversation that crossed its threshold.
A smaller chair sat next to it, built to accommodate its size and sit flush against the arm.
Sage’s scent radiated off the green velvet upholstery, and I nearly lost my shit at the acrid, bitter notes of fear in her lingering perfume before I remembered that doing so now would only hurt my chances of getting her back.
Flags bearing the sigil of Noctis flanked the desk, while shelves along the curved walls displayed carefully chosen artifacts—old treaties, ceremonial blades, bound tomes of Noctis law… Noctis law that the Premier, who hadn’t arrived yet, was in the process of breaking.