Chapter 2 #3
He was not at all what Rafe had expected.
Philippe couldn’t have been more than twenty-three or twenty-four when he was reborn as a vampire, but he didn’t feel terribly old either.
A couple of centuries, possibly. There was a weight to his power that was heavier than Marcus’s, but not nearly as heavy as Aiden’s.
It also didn’t hurt that he was surrounded by other vampires, who were likely hoping to mask Philippe’s youth.
But young or not, he was a clan leader, and that was not something to brush off. If other vampires were willing to follow him, to look to him for protection, then there was more to Philippe.
Philippe smoothly rose to his feet. He was only a couple of inches shorter than Rafe, with a similar slender build. He tilted his head up, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as if he were also amused by the small height difference, and extended his hand.
“Rafe Varik,” he greeted in a voice made for song.
“Philippe Arsenault.”
Philippe held Rafe’s hand a beat longer than necessary, his eyes seeming to take in everything about Rafe’s features. He released Rafe’s hand with a small shake of his head. “If you’ll forgive me, you’re exactly like I pictured you would be.”
“And how is that?” Rafe asked, giving a slightly flirtatious smile.
“Oh, tall, dark, and devilish.” Philippe paused and stared at him for a moment, and Rafe struggled a little to hold his gaze.
He knew nothing about this vampire, and while he didn’t think he could be enraptured, he wasn’t one to take unnecessary risks when it came to unknown clan leaders.
“Hair black as night, sharp features, and haunting blue eyes. Yes, I imagine that you are the very image of the devil.”
Rafe placed his hand to his chest and bowed his head to Philippe. “Darkness to your golden sunlight.”
Philippe laughed lightly. “But you don’t seem to be as blinded by the light as I would like you to be.”
“Would you have me struck blind and dumb by your beauty? I would rather sing sonnets to it.” The flirting came easily; the words meant nothing to him. Just a pretty, painless means of getting what he wanted.
But from the shrewd look in Philippe’s pale-green eyes, Rafe knew the vampire wasn’t fooled. Touché. Rafe hadn’t expected this to be easy.
Philippe’s gaze shifted beyond Rafe’s shoulder, likely settling on Lola. He prayed she wasn’t glaring at Philippe. “This shadow must be the lovely Lola that I’ve heard about.”
“Yes, she thinks I’m quite incapable of watching out for myself when I’m away from the nest.” Rafe made a show of looking around the room at the other vampires that surrounded them.
“It looks as if you’ve got more than your fair share of overprotective companions.
I thought you invited me to a civil chat. ”
Rafe had meant that to be a mild rebuke, but being so horribly outnumbered was starting to unsettle his nerves. He could hear Marcus groaning in his head, aching to cut out Rafe’s careless tongue.
But Philippe laughed, a light and dancing sound. “Oh, I have. I assure you that only half of them have come as protection against you and your dangerous Lola.” He sat down on the bench, appearing to be perfectly at ease with gazing up at Rafe.
“And the other half?”
Philippe’s smile seemed to sharpen. Something hardened in Philippe’s eyes. “For the trouble that follows the Varik clan.”
Yes, Philippe had a point.
With a blink, the sharpness disappeared, and Philippe touched the open space next to him on the bench. Rafe took it as the subtle invitation it was and sat as well, keeping a comfortable two feet of empty space between them.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Lola take a few steps back and the other vampires seemed to slowly shift.
They were closing rank, moving carefully to block the open doorway so that no one would see who was in the center of the room.
Rafe didn’t truly feel threatened. Philippe wanted privacy for their meeting, but they both knew that Rafe would never have stepped foot on Arsenault grounds, and Rafe didn’t expect Philippe to come to him.
The neutral ground of The Gallery was the best they could manage.
“My brothers and I would like to formally thank you for your assistance with the Black Wolf clan last month,” Rafe said.
He’d been partially surprised by the appearance of Jullien Arsenault when Bel and Ethan had rushed to their rescue.
Jullien had been a regular at Rafe’s clubs for years.
They were little more than nodding acquaintances, but if Rafe had been killed, then Jullien would have one less place to spend his long evenings.
“I will admit I’ve been an avid follower of Marcus’s encounters with the Ministry over the years. He’s quite the brilliant and passionate figure when it comes to the protection of his family. It’s fascinating to hear him speak.”
Rafe knew he should be focused on the fact that Arsenault had been following the exploits of his family, but his ego was more rankled over the praise of his older brother.
“I’m sorry Marcus could not speak to you in person and was rather forced to send his feckless younger brother,” Rafe said, more sharply than he meant to.
A flash of pain and surprise filled Philippe’s face, and the other vampire reached out across the two empty feet. He stopped himself before the tips of his fingers could graze the soft material of Rafe’s jacket, as if suddenly coming to himself.
“No, I’m the one who is sorry. I meant no insult. Only to explain my reasoning for sending Jullien to assist your clan. I believe the Variks and Arsenaults have a similar view of our world. I only wanted to see that voice protected, particularly from the cold violence of the Black Wolf clan.”
“Thank you,” Rafe said stiffly.
Philippe opened his mouth to say something more but seemed to think better of it and closed it again without making a sound. His smile grew rueful, and he looked back up at the paintings in front of him.
Rafe continued to stare at Philippe curiously.
The vampire was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans that looked as if they’d be so very soft to the touch.
The bulky cream-colored cable-knit sweater had a slightly stretched collar, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin from his long, graceful neck to his collarbone.
His attire only added to his youthful and innocent look, but Rafe was not fooled.
Attracted? Yes, definitely. But Rafe had a rule about letting his dick lead him to older and more powerful vampires.
In fact, it was one of his only rules.
Don’t fuck with older vampires.
It was better when the rules were few and simple.
“Politics will always be the realm of Marcus. He’s got more of a stomach for it,” Rafe admitted, inwardly praying he wasn’t shooting himself in the foot, but rather steering Philippe to contact Marcus directly.
“Understandable. I don’t have much of a stomach for it myself.”
“Would that be why so little is known about the Arsenault clan?”
Philippe chuckled. “You profess to have no stomach for politics, but your comments are so diplomatic.”
Rafe smirked. “There’s a difference between not having a stomach for it and not being skilled at it.”
“Too true.”
“And you still didn’t answer my question.”
Philippe looked over at Rafe, a playful gleam in his eye. “You’re not the only one with a few skills.” He cleared his throat and continued. “It’s in the best interests of the Arsenault clan that we don’t draw too much attention. We are…private.”
“You would get along very well with Marcus,” Rafe muttered. His older brother would prefer it if the Variks were forever out of the notice of the Ministry and the other clans. But Rafe was sure he was the exact opposite of Marcus, and now Philippe. Disappointing.
“But despite my preference for privacy, I realize that it is also in the best interests of my clan to have an ally.”
“The Variks have a similar understanding,” Rafe agreed cautiously.
This seemed to be going better than he’d expected. Far easier, at least. He needed to get a tentative agreement from Philippe; then he could shove the clan leader off on Marcus for more formal talks, freeing Rafe of any and all entanglements.
“While an alliance could be advantageous to both our clans, I feel that I need some proof of the Variks’ willingness to come to the aid and support of the Arsenaults.”
Rafe pressed his lips tightly together to halt the first harsh words that came to mind. What kind of fucking proof was Philippe looking for? Did he really doubt the honor of him and his brothers?
“As I’m sure you understand, I have to look out for the well-being of my people,” Philippe continued in Rafe’s silence.
Rafe gave a single sharp nod as he pressed down his anger.
Philippe was right. He’d loaned one of his clan members to the Variks.
He was the one to take a risk. If the Variks had fallen to the Black Wolf clan, the presence of Jullien would have caused problems for the rest of the Arsenault clan. They would have become the next target.
“What kind of proof are you looking for?”
Philippe threaded his fingers together in front of him and frowned. “While I doubt this will be a simple task, I am hopeful that it is not nearly as dangerous as storming the Black Wolf manor.”
“That’s a relief,” Rafe muttered, and Philippe flashed him a grin.
But the smile was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, falling away under the weight of a distinct worry that was plaguing him.
“Piper Arsenault is missing. I would like your assistance in finding her.”
Rafe frowned at the painting in front of him. It was of a woman and child walking through a field of what looked to be red poppies. He remembered seeing the fake in the Musée d’Orsay in Paris years ago, but it barely registered as he turned over Philippe’s comment.
“At the risk of delivering a harsh truth, how are you sure she isn’t missing…”
“But rather, attempting to escape the Arsenault clan?” Philippe finished.
There was no anger in his expression. Maybe a little wry amusement and lingering sadness.
“I can offer you no definite proof that would likely convince you, but I know Piper. She was happy with us. She had no reason to leave. She’s not one to venture far from the safety of the clan and would not have left us voluntarily. ”
“So, you believe she was kidnapped?”
Philippe nodded. “That or she was attacked while out one night, and she has been forced to hide, unable to return to us.”
“Or she’s dead.”
Philippe’s eyes narrowed. Tension in the air ramped up, and it seemed as if everyone shifted a little bit closer.
But the Arsenaults wanted the Variks to risk their lives to find Piper, and Rafe refused to do so if Philippe would not at least entertain the very likely truth that Piper had been killed by her attacker.
“Piper has not been destroyed.”
“But—”
“No. I would know if she no longer existed.” Philippe pressed a slightly trembling hand over his heart. “I would feel it.”
“You made her,” Rafe whispered, but Philippe shook his head in denial.
“No, I didn’t. But every member of my clan is important to me. I would know if she was dead.”
Rafe had his doubts, but voicing them wouldn’t get them anywhere. It was best to drop it for now. “I’ll need to speak with my brothers. Discuss this before we agree to anything.”
Philippe nodded. The sadness evaporated from his face, yet the cheerful, sunny look didn’t return.
He stared straight ahead at the painting, but Rafe didn’t think he was actually seeing it, his thoughts likely far away.
At the very least, he didn’t seem upset that Rafe wasn’t automatically agreeing.
“Should we agree to help you locate Piper, I would expect Winter to start digging—”
“No,” Philippe said, his head snapping around to look at Rafe. “I want you to help in this endeavor. Should the Variks agree, I am willing to speak with you. Only you will have safe passage on Arsenault property.”
Rafe frowned. “This kind of…detective work isn’t my specialty. That’s Winter’s thing. Trust me, Winter has contacts everywhere. He knows a little bit of everything. He’s got the best shot at finding Piper.”
“And you have a way of creating the most popular nightclub within a city. Every clan finds its way to your club. I’m sure you hear plenty of secrets and whispers. You can find Piper.”
Rafe struggled not to clench his teeth. He wanted to help Philippe, but he knew his own limitations. Being sneaky wasn’t one of his strengths. Okay, he was perfectly dreadful at being sneaky. He was bold and outrageous. He was the center of attention.
Of course, the Variks could agree to Philippe’s request and set Winter on the trail. Once his youngest brother uncovered some information, Rafe would play middleman and deliver the news to Philippe. Easy.
“I’ll discuss this with my brothers.” It was all Rafe was willing to commit to for now.
He wasn’t so sure Marcus and the others would be pleased with Philippe’s demand for Rafe’s involvement.
In general, his brothers preferred to keep Rafe as far from trouble as possible.
Rafe’s skill was in tossing more fuel on the fire rather than smothering it.
Philippe nodded and smoothly rose, extending his hand to Rafe. He stood as well and politely shook his hand. “I accept your terms. We’ll speak again in two nights.”
With a hint of a smile, Philippe stepped around Rafe and exited the small room, his companions placing themselves around him in a protective wall that moved as one. Rafe and Lola watched them silently exit before looking at each other.
“Thoughts?” Rafe inquired softly.
“He’s…not what I expected.”
“And?”
Lola shrugged. “I think his concern is genuine.” Lola seemed surprised by the thought, and Rafe couldn’t blame her. Concern wasn’t something that was common among clan masters.
“Tell no one about this meeting or its contents,” Rafe murmured, to which Lola gave him a disbelieving look.
Lola was not a gossip. The instructions were completely unnecessary, but something about Philippe had Rafe rattled.
It wasn’t any one thing he could put his finger on, but he had no intention of doing anything for the Arsenault clan until he’d spoken with his brothers.
Maybe they could help clear the fog from his brain.