Jones had always chosen his food wisely, but in spite of the string of rich women he’d enthralled over the years, he never managed to hold on to much of the wealth.
Why bother to save money when you could simply enslave another rich woman?
Devon struggled to keep his expression calm and not show the disgust he felt. “The question at hand is which of us will run for the office of Primator? The concern, of course, is that if the office lies vacant too long, the humans will begin to wonder if there is any need for a Primator at all. And if no Primator, then why a Primus? They muddled along with only two houses of Congress for more than two hundred years, after all.”
Smith nodded. “Some of the humans are already making noises that we are too violent and unstable to be in Congress. Plus they’re holding town hall meetings across the country, and there is very strong sentiment among those who dare speak up against us.”
“The humans are less afraid to speak up since the rebels have been so successful on their many incursions against us,” Devon said.
Jones hissed, his eyes glowing a vivid red. “We must squash these rebels once and for all. They are doing all they can to smash holes in our carefully constructed image of ourselves as law-abiding citizens.”
“If they can get us kicked out of Congress, the laws protecting our rights are going to be repealed next,” Devon said, widening his eyes as if this were the first time it had occurred to him.
“And the damn shifters will be in line to fill in the gaps. After all, they have powerful lobbies selling the idea that they’re humans, just with a simple difference. A virus that makes them shift shape occasionally. They’re not
dead
like we are,” Jones said.
Devon swirled the blood in his goblet, then put the glass down on the table. Cold blood held no appeal for him. “If we control the shifters, all power is in our hands. The rebels will have no chance against an alliance of vampire and shifter.”
Jones slammed his fist on the table. “Not an alliance. We don’t ally with animals. We must control the shifters through this enthrallment procedure we’ve put so much time and money into. Only then can we count on total power.”
Devon inclined his head. “Of course. Why do you think I am spearheading this effort? I merely was pointing out that the effort must look like an alliance to the outside world, or a panic would ensue. Ultimately, we are no match for missiles fired from air force jets or bombs dropped on our strongholds. Human technology has come a long way from stakes, burning torches, and pitchforks.”
A couple of the older vampires in the room shuddered, probably at centuries-old memories of angry mobs of villagers holding just those weapons.
“What about Atlantis?” Jones suddenly asked.
Devon went still. “Atlantis?”
“There are too many rumors of vigilante warriors claiming to be Atlantean for us to ignore it,” Jones insisted. “Certainly they were involved in that raid on the Primus.”
Devon laughed politely. “Did they bring the boogeyman with them? Or possibly the tooth fairy?”
Jones snarled at him, baring his fangs. “Mock me if you will, but I know what I’ve heard, and only a fool ignores a very real threat.”
“When I hear of a very real threat, I’ll certainly pay attention. For now, can we put aside the idea of underwater fish men from the lost continent that Plato probably made up in the first place and get back to our plans?”
“I’ve had enough of talking about it,” Smith said. “I say we vote. Right here and right now. Devon for Primator. None of the rest of us has the political connections or the money.”
“That will change when we have this Brennan’s money in our control,” Jones challenged.
Devon shrugged, feigning a casualness he did not feel. “I don’t want the job, but I’m willing to take it if you want me. Remember, though, that any vote is subject to one major contingency.”
Some of them looked puzzled, and others looked scared, but only one of them had the courage to speak the name.
“Anubisa,” Deirdre said, strolling over to Devon out of the corner from where she’d been studying the room. “Our not-so-benevolent goddess. Are you willing to be front and center on her to-do list, my love?”
Devon bowed over her hand and kissed it. “Anything for you, my darling.”
She threw back her head and laughed, and the sound of it shivered ice down his spine. “Let’s vote, then. All for Devon for Primator?”
Every hand in the room went up, save for Jones’s; he only glared at Devon.
“If you want the job, please take it,” Devon said, bowing gracefully.
Jones shook his head. “You know I don’t. I just don’t want you to have it, either. You’re a slippery son of a bitch, and I can smell something wrong about you. I just don’t know exactly what it is, yet.” He studied Devon for another minute, but then shook his head. “When I find out, I’m going to enjoy ripping your heart out of your chest.”
Devon smiled. “I look forward to the challenge.”
Deirdre folded her arms over her chest and looked at Jones. “Vote. Enough with the drama. Yea or nay for Devon for Primator.”
Jones slowly raised his hand, and then turned his thumb up.
Devon didn’t let any of them see the relief that nearly weakened his knees, but he did bow to the room in response to the scattered applause.
“Congratulations, Primator,” Deirdre said, casting a mocking glance at Devon. “Will we now get a sheep in every pot?”
“I thought it was chicken?”
“I don’t like chicken,” she said, shuddering delicately. “All those nasty feathers.”
“Shall we go meet our new benefactor?” Devon held out his hand and Deirdre lightly put hers in his. He’d pay, later, when they were alone, for putting her in this positon. Making her touch him.
“In a while,” she said, showing her fangs. “All this talk of chickens and sheep has made me . . . hungry.”
“Dr. Litton is waiting for us,” Devon reminded her.
“Let him wait.” She took his hand and made a show of dragging him toward the door, intent on eating something. Probably him. He plastered a fake leer on his face and confided as much to the vamps he passed on the way out, inviting the laugh.
Before they exited, he looked back at Smith and Jones. “We’ll meet at the lab tomorrow night.”
Smith nodded, but Jones just stared at him from hooded eyes.
When they hit the hallway, Deirdre continued to drag him along for quite a bit before she ducked into a side hall and jumped away from him, shuddering with disgust and frantically wiping her hands on her pants.
To remove any trace of the feel of him, undoubtedly. He ignored the familiar pain and pretended not to notice.
She finally stopped the compulsive wiping and looked up at him. “What’s the plan?”
“We can’t talk here. They could walk out any minute.”
“We’ll hear them,” she said impatiently. “I’m watching the corridor, too. The plan?”
He listened for any sound of pursuit, but when he heard nothing, he shrugged and told her. “Their cover was blown or, if not, it doesn’t matter. They’ve been captured. They’ve probably got allies coming, if they’ve had a way to contact anybody. We need to make plans, fast,” Devon told her. “In my rooms, not here.”
When they turned to leave the hallway, Jones was standing right past the corner, flanked by a half dozen of the vampires from his blood pride. Devon noticed right away that they were all wearing heavy leather gloves, and he knew, instantly, that this was going to be bad.
“Did you think one as powerful as myself couldn’t mask the sound of approach?” Jones stared at Devon as if he really expected an answer.
“I didn’t think you were powerful enough to wipe your own ass without assistance,” Devon said, shrugging. “Surprise.”
Jones snarled and his eyes glowed a fierce scarlet, but Devon had miscalculated. He hadn’t provoked Jones into a personal attack. Jones made a hand gesture instead, and his minions came for Devon and Deirdre, who was making a steady growling noise, low in her throat, behind him.
Devon had been right. They had silver chains. It was bad.
Chapter 28
Litton’s holding pens
Tiernan knew if she couldn’t find a way to help Brennan calm down, he would lose it and kill himself battering his poor, abused body against those electric bars.
The room was a steel-and-concrete box, and the ceiling sloped oddly, making her think the structure wasn’t much more than a cave or tunnel, as opposed to the foundation of an actual building. She’d heard rumors of a system of tunnels under Yellowstone, but it was usually in the same papers that ran with sightings of Big Foot, or celebrity alien babies, so she’d never paid much attention.
“Brennan, he was telling the truth. Smitty. When he said he doesn’t hurt women, I mean, but the rest, too. Maybe we can use that,” she whispered, keeping an eye on the guards.
“It won’t matter, if he has his way,” Brennan growled, his eyes glowing hot green. “You’ll be enthralled and he won’t need to hurt you.”
She flinched at the idea, but then blinked. She suddenly understood why he’d spent so much time shielding his eyes or looking down at the ground. “Your eyes. Is that why he said you aren’t human?”
Brennan’s eyes faded to an ordinary, non-glowing green. “No. I can hide the power at will. He suspected something since I could withstand multiple contacts with those electric cell bars.”
“We should be okay until morning, don’t you think?” She glanced at the guards. “They don’t seem interested in bothering us, at least for now, thank goodness.”
“Smitty warned them off. He has an interesting value structure, for a mercenary killer.” Brennan’s gaze was never still, as he scanned every inch of the room. “You should try to get some rest,” he said abruptly.
She almost laughed. “Like I’m going to be able to sleep now? Trapped in the mad scientist’s evil lair? I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole, but instead of Wonderland, I’m in the middle of one of those really bad horror films.” She pulled her knees up against her chest and rested her head on her folded arms. “If a killer tomato shows up, I’m out of here.”
Brennan stared at her and then shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Probably better that way,” she said, closing her eyes. A shiver suddenly raced through her body and she curled herself up even tighter. The concrete floor was cold and the room was freezing. She just hadn’t had time to notice it before.
A moment later, something soft and warm landed on her head. She smelled Brennan and knew it was his shirt before she even opened her eyes. Pulling it close, she allowed herself a brief respite of imagining that the warmth of the fabric was the comfort of being back in Brennan’s arms. Then she forced herself to let go—both of his shirt and of fantasies of what she could never have.
She held it out to him, trying not to stare at his muscular, bare chest. “I can’t take this. You’ll freeze.”
He shook his head and shoved the long waves of his black hair away from his face. “My body temperature runs hot. I have no need of that and it might help you.”
Memories of just how hot his body temperature was flashed into her mind, and her cheeks warmed up quite a bit. He smiled that slow, seductive smile of his, and she was afraid that he knew exactly what she’d been thinking about.
“Tell me about Susannah,” he said, surprising her. “If you can bear to talk about her.”
She thought about it before responding, but realized she really did want to talk about her friend. She never had before, except for the basics, to Rick and a few others. She’d had a friend who was a shifter. Who’d been killed in a confrontation with police.
Tiernan had never really told anyone about Susannah. She discovered that she wanted to share her friend with this man whom she might actually have been able to love, under different circumstances.
“She loved coffee, which was a great quality in a roommate. All day long, not just in the morning,” she said, smiling at the memory. “All of those fancy, flavored kinds, you know. Irish cream and gingerbread spice. She’d surprise me on the weekend with breakfast in bed, sometimes, always trying to get me to try a new kind of coffee.”
“She sounds like a wonderful friend,” he said. “I cannot imagine Alexios bringing me breakfast in bed.”
She laughed a little at the idea, but her smile faded as reality crushed in on her. She was trapped in a cell that she might never escape with her mind intact. She’d—she’d—
“I killed that man,” she whispered, the image of his bloody body vivid in the forefront of her mind. “How can I live with that?”
She stared at Brennan, searching his face for answers. “How do
you
live with it?”
“You live with it because you have no choice. He was attacking you, and you were defending yourself. You did not intend to kill him, even though you had just seen him torturing your friend.” He held out a hand, as if to reach for hers, but then lowered it before it touched the bars. “Tiernan, you have no blame in this.”
“I know you believe that, but I definitely have blame,” she said bitterly. “I dragged you into this through my arrogance that my crack undercover reporting would get us in, get the story, and get us out. All the blame goes on me.”
Brennan’s face hardened and, if possible, grew even grimmer. “And I am a warrior with centuries of experience in dangerous situations. Is not mine the greater fault?”
“But—”
“No. Enough of fault, please. Tell me more of Susannah. You said she brought you breakfast in bed. Was she a good cook?”
She pulled his shirt more tightly around her shoulders, sinking into its warmth and his clean, seawater scent for a moment before she answered. “I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to distract me.”
“Is it working?”