Dominik
“We have a reception to attend tonight, my dove.” I take Lucy’s hand and kiss it gently.
Her stunning eyes open, and she stretches her free hand above her head, her soft shirt, one of mine, lifting to display her stomach because it’s only done up with two buttons.
I have only had my Lucy in my nest for two weeks.
So far, she has been accepted by my progeny and by the thralls, two of whom have been taken into our confidence, so she gets the sustenance she needs.
Fortunately, as I have my own wing, the chances of her having to go anywhere else within the building are negated, and we can continue with our presence in the occasional public event.
Like the one tonight.
“A reception? A public one?”
“It’s for the opening of a renovated wing at the national gallery.” I suck one of her fingers into my mouth and give it a little nip. “I have provided a considerable amount of the funding.”
“You mean you laundered a bunch of money.”
I raise my eyebrows at her.
“You know my methods.” I lean in to kiss her, trailing my fangs down her neck and over where I bit her after she saw the doctor, making her shiver. “But at least it is supporting a good cause.”
“Vampire retirement funds?” She chuckles throatily.
Lucy is at her very best like this, fragrant, warm, and completely fuckable. Something I fully intend taking advantage of…
Except she has gone, out of my arms, out of the bed, and across to the large carved oak wardrobe which dominates this room.
“I’ve got nothing to wear.” She looks over her shoulder at me, her sleep tousled hair ruining the line of my trousers immediately.
“I anticipated you would say that.” I snap my fingers and the door opens.
Unable to help myself, I snarl as the thralls enter, pulling rack after rack of clothing followed by my master tailor, who claps her hands to get the thralls to leave.
“Let me see what I’m working with,” Pirosca says with a baleful gaze at me. “Dominik,” she adds as a throwaway in my direction.
Mostly because I have Lucy tucked behind me as I bare my fangs.
If anything, my possessive nature is getting worse around my mate.
I struggle to see her talk to any of the thralls and as for being close to any of my progeny?
I want to rip their heads off, more than usual.
In fact the mere thought of anyone even being in her vicinity makes my skin itch more than being out in the day.
It makes me want to do things I thought were long in my past. And it certainly isn’t helped at all by the fact if I show how I feel, chances are Lucy will run for London.
And I can’t have that either.
“Is he always this feral, my sweet?” Pirosca asks, leaning to one side to peer at Lucy.
My mate shoulders her way past me.
“Most of the time.” She holds out her hand to the tailor who shakes it. “I’m Lucy Cushing.”
“And I am Pirosca.”
“Piro-scha?” Lucy repeats with the correct emphasis. The tailor smiles.
“Your pronunciation is good.” She nods.
“Thank you. I’m trying, when I can get a word in edgewise with this one.” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder.
“Pirosca has been my tailor for…generations,” I butt in. “She will style you for tonight.”
“Oh, fancy,” Lucy says with a smile playing around her lips.
I don’t like leaving her alone with anyone. Even while she is sleeping, I’m in one form or another with her.
And when she is in other places, I use my abilities to be there too.
I walk to the door, tell the thrall we are not to be disturbed, and close it again, only to find Pirosca inspecting Lucy by turning her right and left.
“You have good bones. I can work with you,” she says.
Mirth dances in Lucy’s eyes.
“But you”—she glares at me—“you need to go. I do not want the mate under foot, and I want her to dazzle you like she will dazzle society tonight.”
Lucy stares at me, her tongue in her cheek and her eyes wide.
“Please go, Dominik. I want to dazzle,” she says, with a slight strangle to her voice.
I wrinkle my nose.
“Shoo,” Pirosca says, flapping her hands at me.
Lucy claps a hand over her mouth before she recovers her composure.
“You heard the lady, Dominik. Shoo,” she says.
With the greatest of reluctance, I leave Lucy, closing the door behind me. I am the king of the vampires, not some thrall to be chased out of a room.
And yet, it has just happened. I am no longer master in my own nest. My little human has taken over. She has just told me to shoo.
I am the king of the Budapest vampires, a vast empire under my fingertips, and a little pregnant human told me to shoo.
I love it.
I stride through to my office where Attila is waiting for me.
“Boss.” He nods.
“Attila.”
“There are some approvals waiting for you.” He flicks his head at my desk. “We have some nests which need dealing with and a couple of additional places which need to be open in order to funnel the funds from the weapons.”
So it appears I have left my fuckable mate to do administration. My fangs ache to sink into my sweet Lucy. But it is not to be, so I concentrate on what has been placed on my desk.
“This is a fucking mess,” I snarl at Attila. “Since when did we stop moving the weapons?” I lift up another piece of paper. “And why are the drug shipments not going via their usual routes?”
“Decisions were made, in your absence,” Attila says, his tone flat. “When you were with your consort.”
I have him up against the wall by his neck, my fangs poised to rip at his throat.
“Nothing,” I growl, “nothing should be done without my express permission. Regardless of whether I have a consort or not.”
“No, boss,” he replies.
“I am still the king,” I snarl. “This place, this city—it belongs to me.”
“Yes, boss. But…”
I have my fangs millimeters from his skin because there is no but. There is never any but where I am concerned.
“Chose your next words very carefully, Attila.”
“I had to change things, to ensure nothing would fall into the hands of Damek.”
I let him go, and he slides down the wall and stares at me. Breathing isn’t an issue for a vampire, and he knows better than to show any weakness in my presence.
“What do you mean?” I glare at him, holding him in place with my gaze. “Damek and I had an agreement.”
“It hasn’t stopped him,” Attila says.
“How long has this been going on?”
“A few weeks, boss,” Attila says. “I didn’t want to bother you with it.” He finally dips his gaze from mine. “No vampire has had a consort in a hundred years,” he says. “You are…happy…with yours. I didn’t want to cause any trouble.”
Fuck! Fuck!
On the one hand, I want to send him to hell for even thinking of my mate. On the other, the fact his loyalty goes beyond what I’d expect from progeny to something I hadn’t even considered means I want to promote him.
He wants me to be happy. And I am.
I drop my hand on Attila’s shoulder.
“You did well.” I grip at it. “But in future, if you have a problem, come to me, regardless.”
“Yes, boss,” he says with a slightly fanged smile. “You’d better go see how Mistress Lucy…I mean your consort…is getting on.”
I check my watch. He is entirely correct.
“Mistress Lucy?” I query.
Attila doesn’t meet my gaze. “She is a good consort,” he responds. “Regardless of what she is.”
He means she is human. I feel a strange prickle of relief my progeny feels this way about her.
“Lucy is mine,” I growl, knowing there cannot be any weakness. “And no one touches her but me.”