Chapter 3
Three
Philippe didn’t feel as if he could take a full, deep breath until he stepped inside his home and the door shut behind him.
He continued across the sparsely decorated hall, purposefully ignoring the empty echo of his footsteps across the hardwood, and up the main staircase to his expansive bedchambers on the second floor.
Pushing open both doors, he entered and paused for a second, his hands on the handles before finally releasing them.
As he’d expected, Jullien followed him into his chambers, shutting the doors quietly behind him.
Philippe didn’t let himself look back at his companion but continued to walk across the room to the dresser, where there was a decanter of whiskey and blood set up for him.
He splashed some of the dark liquid into the glass and downed it.
Standing there with his eyes closed and head bowed, Philippe finally allowed himself to breathe.
Everything had gone well. Better than well. Exactly as he’d planned.
“Are they going to help?” Jullien softly asked.
His French accent was still apparent, even after so many years away from the country of their birth.
Philippe had lost his, but Jullien clung to it as if he wanted to remain prepared to return to Paris at the drop of a hat. But that was never going to happen.
Philippe straightened and turned to look at his old friend.
Jullien was an incredibly handsome man with rich, chocolate-brown hair and warm, beautiful eyes.
There was a flawlessness to his skin as if he bathed every day in a rich cream.
But that was only what you could see outside of his clothes.
The horror was that much of him was covered in old scars that were now perfectly preserved in his vampire body.
It felt as if luck or fate had directed them to each other so many years ago. But Philippe knew better.
Both he and Jullien had been made into vampires as a joke. They were never meant to have survived past that first night. They were castoffs, runaways.
But they did find each other. They survived. And helped others like them.
Until now.
“He said he needed to speak to his brothers before agreeing to assist our clan,” Philippe replied. “I thought that was fair.”
Jullien stood with his arms crossed over his wide chest, his broad shoulders stretching the soft material of his sweater. His eyes were narrowed, and his lips were pressed into a thin, unyielding line of worry. “Do you think they will assist us?”
“Yes. The Variks are a target now, and their numbers are few. They are also actively protecting a fledgling.”
“Who?”
Philippe turned and leaned his hips against the side of the dresser. “I think his name is Ethan.”
Jullien’s eyes widened and his lips softened in surprise. “The pet?”
Philippe’s nose wrinkled at the word, at the very idea of Marcus Varik having a pet.
“I don’t believe he was truly Marcus’s pet.
He doesn’t seem the type. And to change him after mere days of being his pet?
” Philippe made a clicking sound with his tongue as he shook his head.
“No, that was all a ruse. Marcus is a clever one.”
A snort left Jullien, and he walked over to the single chair in Philippe’s private chambers and flopped into it. “How clever could he be? He made a fledgling when faced with a potential war?”
“Even as a fledgling, this Ethan is stronger than he would be as a human.”
“Still a liability,” Jullien mumbled. “Why not send him away instead?”
Philippe shrugged one shoulder, but he could not banish the smile playing on his lips. Of course Jullien saw it and made a scoffing noise in the back of his throat.
“You believe Marcus loves his fledgling. Nonsense.”
“Just because we’ve never experienced it in our lives doesn’t mean that others can’t find it.”
“It’s safer if we don’t believe in it.”
Philippe struggled to argue with Jullien’s logic, but he liked the idea of Marcus finding love. That the vampire wanted to protect his human, so he changed him. That they would get to spend their very long existence together wrapped in laughter and joy.
“You met Ethan. Would you say his concern for Marcus is genuine?”
Jullien had been the vampire to assist Beltran and Ethan in saving the other Variks. Of course, Jullien’s assistance had been more about seeking revenge on the Black Wolf clan than any concern for the Variks.
At this, Jullien couldn’t meet Philippe’s gaze, and that only made him smile wider. “Yes, I think his concern was genuine,” Jullien said with an aggravated sigh. “He was ready to attack the Black Wolf clan alone if necessary to retrieve Marcus. But why does that matter?”
“It gives me more proof the Variks won’t harm or betray us. They are like us.”
Jullien shook his head. “That is thin proof you’re resting our lives on. They are nearly as secretive as us. If it weren’t for Rafe’s recklessness, we would likely know nothing about them. Well, other than the fact that they are all children of Aiden.”
And that was a major plus in their favor. Aiden was both widely revered and feared in their world. Few had ever crossed him, and none had survived. The only children he’d ever made were the Varik brothers and their mother. And the tragedy of Julianna Varik only added to his legend.
Pulling together his swirling thoughts, Philippe forced a confident smile on his lips as he looked over at his friend.
“Regardless, I believe the Variks will be an asset to us, and we will be an asset to them once our problem has been solved. We are stronger together. They’re a good clan.
They’ll be sympathetic to what we have created. ”
Jullien raised a skeptical brow.
“They might not understand it,” Philippe admitted, “but at the very least, they won’t want to destroy it.”
“I didn’t think that was even a consideration when it came to the Variks. I thought we were hoping they’d want to help us.” Jullien paused and heaved another sigh. “Want to help protect us.”
It was a hard truth neither of them wanted to face head on, but if they wished to survive, they had to.
While Arsenault clan numbers were greater than that of the Variks, they were not stronger than the four brothers combined.
Add in Aiden, and the wall of force and strength seemed unbreakable. Philippe wanted that on their side.
When he first started to consider an alliance with the Variks, Philippe had been sure that Marcus would be the key to their survival.
But the more he learned about Rafe Varik, the more he became sure the reckless, carefree creature had a hidden side to him that would save the Arsenault clan.
Philippe just had to figure out how to reach that side when he was sure Rafe kept it guarded and hidden away from even his brothers.
Of course, not everyone agreed with him.
Jullien was skeptical of the Variks altogether, but he’d grumbled more about Rafe’s outlandish nature than anything else the Variks had done in the past. Philippe’s other close confidante, Ezra, was convinced Philippe should have contacted the MacPherson clan first.
Where the Variks were private, the MacPhersons were candid, but it did not make them approachable.
They numbered more than twenty vampires who were all selected thanks to their strength and fierce skills.
If a clan could be bred purely for war, it was the MacPhersons’.
It made the clan a formidable ally. No one would dare touch the Arsenaults if it was known they were aligned with the MacPhersons.
But Philippe was more concerned that approaching them with an olive branch of truce, speaking about things such as an alliance, would open them up to attack.
The MacPherson clan could see the Arsenaults as weak and wish to simply destroy those not up to their level and absorb any who could pass muster.
Or worse, the leader of the MacPhersons could see talk of an alliance as an insult. They were certainly strong enough to not need an ally. Despite Ezra’s growing confidence that it would be a good match for both clans, Philippe didn’t feel confident that it was safe for the Arsenault clan.
The Variks seemed to have a similar view of their world. They were quiet and kept to themselves. They never said a negative word about another clan or vampire. They stayed out of politics and the hunt for more power. Rafe…well, it didn’t hurt that he was devilishly handsome and intriguing.
In another lifetime…
“What did you think of him?” Jullien inquired, breaking into his thoughts.
It was almost as if Jullien could read his mind, but it was more likely that he’d read some little expression Philippe couldn’t quite keep from his face. They had spent the better part of a century together; there was no one else who knew him better.
“Rafe was interesting.”
Philippe had barely gotten the carefully measured words out before the room filled with Jullien’s incredulous laughter. It was a sound Philippe heard too rarely, and he welcomed it even if his friend was laughing at him.
“Please tell me you’re lying to just me and not to yourself.”
Philippe glared at his companion, but he was pretty sure he did a poor job of it, because Jullien was still smiling. With a groan, Philippe waved a hand at Jullien. “He was as beautiful and wicked as you described him. The devil in the flesh.”
“And just as sinfully tempting,” Jullien finished with what sounded suspiciously like a sated sigh.
“Have you ever…?”
Jullien quickly shook his head, but he didn’t lose his pleased expression. “No. As tempting as he is, he’s not a risk I’m willing to take. I’m content to admire him from afar.”
Philippe knew Jullien feared Rafe’s reaction to the scars that covered his body.
No one wanted to suffer through such a moment when expecting pleasure, something Philippe knew all too keenly.
“Is he the reason you go to his clubs so often? Admiration of his form?” Philippe teased in hopes of keeping Jullien’s mood light.