Yes. Meet you there.
I shut the laptop lid. “Revenge. You said that last night.”
She pointed at the paper. “It remains true today and every day.”
My brow furrowed. “How will inviting these men to Destiny’s grand opening hurt Al—” My throat closed, refusing to utter the rat’s name out loud.
Stella stretched her legs across the table next to my laptop, hands clasped behind her head. “Read the names again.”
I expelled an exasperated breath but did as she requested. The last two names on the list tied my already tortured tummy into tight knots, the beginnings of a tension headache tapping the inside of my forehead. “Connor and Cameron Wallace.”
“Alpha and beta of the Wallace wolf pack.” She shot me a wicked smile. “Alexander’s cousins.”
I crumpled the paper and tossed it on the table next to the adorable Hello Kitty figurine, anger and disappointment tightening my chest. Cousins.
Werewolf
cousins. “He never told me.”
So many secrets. So many lies. All our long talks and not once had he mentioned family other than his parents.
I didn’t know him at all.
Stella sped in a blur to the kitchen and returned with two cups of blood. “You knew what he allowed you to know. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Oh, I’d said that out loud. “So, he’s just like all of the other vampires in my life.”
“Yes.”
I gulped down some blood. It soothed my jangled nerves and forced my anger to a simmer.
Revenge is sweet.
Stella’s words repeated in my head as I stared at the wad of pink paper. I set down my mug and smoothed out the paper. “Do you know these guys?”
“Yes.”
I traced Connor’s name with my fingertip. “Do you like them?”
Her face scrunched. “Irrelevant.” She leaned forward and pointed at my laptop. “May I?”
I opened it, logged in then pushed it to her. The last time she’d shown me something, I’d caused an earthquake in my office. Part of me didn’t want to see what else she had to show me. The other part of me was totally on board with this revenge idea.
She tapped the keys, waited, then slid the laptop in front of me. “I like their music. Before and after the Youngling was one of them.”
I stared at the band homepage, their band name—Wallace—sprawled across the top, a shot of the band in black and white below. While Alexander mentioned being in a band and told me they’d parted ways due to “differences of opinion,” he never once said, “By the way, they’re my cousins.” Significant detail to omit. What else had he withheld when he’d given me his life story?
My gaze locked on Alexander in the photo, barely registering the other men seated on the cracked cement stairs outside an abandoned city warehouse. A slick, urban hipster photo, but all I could see was my ex-man. He shot the camera that smoldering look, the one I thought he reserved only for me. The look that said, “You’re special, and I want to do all sorts of wicked and wonderful things to your body.”
Any hope I’d harbored that this whole situation was some horrible misunderstanding, any doubts I had about breaking up with him, all of it disappeared before the truth in front of me. He’d lied when he looked at me like that, lied when he said I was his one and only.
I wasn’t special at all. “He played me.”
Stella pulled out her lighter and pack of cigarettes. “It is possible.”
The clove scent tickled my nose. “No smoking in here,” I snapped then palmed my pounding temples. “I don’t know what to do with this information.”
Stella extracted a cigarette. “Invite them to your grand opening. Befriend them. You’re their type. Young, beautiful, powerful. They’ll eat you up. Not literally, mind you.”
I closed the browser window so I’d stop staring at my treacherous ex. “I’m not parsing this, Stella. Why should I play nice with his family? Our relationship is over.”
“They’re estranged. It will anger him beyond reason. It will crush him.” She smashed her cigarette to punctuate her point, letting the debris fall onto my Hello Kitty figurine, like tobacco rain.
We stared at each other for the span of several of my heartbeats. I liked her plan. Sweet revenge, indeed. What I liked even more? The wolves lived lives separate from vampire politics and, from what my family told me, they were impossible to glamour or compel. That made them the perfect ally in a vampire vs. vampire war.
So I would do as Stella suggested. I would befriend them to piss off Alexander and appease my broken heart, and, more important by far, I would enlist them in my war against Dixon.
Hell, with their innate tracking skills, maybe they could locate Faith and Kai, and I could swarm in with an army of wolves
and
vampires. For the first time since Dixon’s attack, hope surged through me. Maybe I could beat him. Maybe I could save my friends and survive.
I snagged the paper and my laptop and curled up on the couch. “Let’s get this revenge party started.”
I trailed Adrian and our club manager Kat around our new club, incapable of following their conversation, unable to admire the beauty of the shining floors, the pristine bars, the modern furnishings worthy of the best showroom in San Francisco. Destiny looked fantastic, but worry over Faith and Kai dominated my mental landscape. What was that sadistic bastard Dixon doing to them right now? Add Alexander’s betrayal to my morose mind mix and I wanted to scream and smash things, starting with every glistening bottle lined up behind the bar, hurl them against the mirrored bar wall, and watch it all splinter and fall.
I swallowed a lump of sorrow lodged in my throat.
“You’re deep in thought, Rina. Care to share?” Kat’s irritated tone pulled me back to the moment.
We’d stopped at the bar, and I hadn’t even noticed. Adrian jotted notes on his phone while Kat drummed her French-manicured nails on the gleaming bar top, mouth twisted in a disapproving line. She was all business, all the time, and, like a stern teacher, she disapproved of my lack of attention to the important club matters at hand.
Adrian, on the other hand, pocketed his phone and snaked his arm around my waist. “You can bail, babe,” he whispered in my ear. “I get it.”
I wanted nothing more than to flee the scene but had one bit of business before I could bolt, and Kat wasn’t going to like it.
“I need another VIP table set up for twelve for the Wallace wolf pack. Drinks on the house.”
All six wolves on Stella’s list replied yes to my invitation. I wanted to give them unlimited beverages and extra room in case they brought dates. Happy, pampered wolves might agree to help me.
Kat’s blonde brows collided. She cocked her head, the indigo tips of her spiked blonde hair gleaming in the overhead lighting.
When she started to complain, I spoke over her. “I don’t care who you have to shuffle around, just do it. And not one word about the free booze.”
I stalked to the exit, leaving my manager sputtering in fury. Adrian’s soothing baritone followed me through the club, soon lost in the sounds of clinking glasses and bottles being arranged at both the main bar and the balcony bar, distant hammering and the whine of a drill, footsteps on the wraparound balcony, and the collective murmur of many voices.
My boots thumped on gleaming hardwood flooring that smelled of evergreen and eucalyptus. The scent from our all-natural cleaners reminded me of the trees in Golden Gate Park, my favorite place for runs with Mark, Ren, Faith, and Kai. Despair daggered my gut, and my footsteps faltered. Faith and Kai
would never run again if I didn’t rescue them. “God damn it.”
I burst outside and surveyed the wide parking lot, my attention drawn to the nearby warehouse housing Roland’s Brasserie. Adrian made a superb decision purchasing the property directly across the lot from the popular vampire eatery. Patrons could grab a bite then party the night away in our club, no driving or flying across town. Convenient for customers and profitable for all of us. Roland—my former, childhood, vampire nanny and bodyguard—owned the restaurant.
My stomach rebelled at the thought of food, but a glass of wine or blood might lower my stress level. And Roland wouldn’t inundate me with questions I didn’t want to answer, making his establishment the perfect place for a quiet moment to regroup.
Gravel crunched underfoot and a cool breeze bathed me, wafting from the bay, as I made my way across the parking lot, past my BMW and many other cars and trucks. Near the ramp to the restaurant, I ground to a halt and stared at several motorcycles. The chopper in particular captured my unwilling gaze.
Dixon drove a bike like that.
Chills swept over my skin. My pulse pounded, loud in my ears, and my throat choked off a scream. Dixon had assaulted me in Roland’s bar and grill, the first time I ever met him, during my first date with Alexander. The memory swamped me—Dixon holding me captive with his power, touching me, his minions attacking me. I embedded a knife in one minion’s throat, the minion on top of me, blood spurting everywhere as Stella rode to my rescue, dismembering all attackers with her sword. One of Dixon’s men lunged, taking me to ground. The sword in my hand slid through his gut. Dampness underneath me.
I’m lying in a pool of blood.
A truck backfired and kicked up gravel, the sounds shattering the flashback. Blasted inconvenient timing. I couldn’t afford to fall apart. I shoved the memory aside and forced my quaking legs to walk around the back of the building to the entrance.
The scent of grilled steak whipped to me on the wind as I stepped onto the patio. Heads turned. A lot of heads. It was dinner time, and the place was packed. Metal chairs scraped along the patio as patrons surged to their feet and bowed. Anyone still seated—that amounted to four people—had to be wolves, exempt from vampire protocol.
I forced myself to stand in place and give them all a bow of my head. As much as their display bothered me, in their eyes I was their princess, daughter of their ruler. I swept my arm at the standing vamps and their humans, a please-sit gesture. Inside, I had to repeat the whole nod and wave routine again while I stalked through the restaurant and slid onto the end seat at the bar, abandoned by a well-meaning minion eager to please the princess.
Roland leaned on the bar top. “
Buona sera, principessa.
” He assessed me, taking in my furrowed brow, downturned mouth, slumped shoulders. “You look like shit.”
I shrugged out of my leather jacket, hanging it and my purse on hooks under the bar. “Feel like it too.”
He snorted but, as expected, didn’t ask any questions. He did, however, broadcast my state to my family. Damn it.
Tell me what you need,
Jonas whispered.
“
Grazie
, Roland.” My voice dripped with sarcasm. The big guy ignored me.
I’ll be fine, Jonas. I’m just stressed out. Done with the walk-through and stopped in Roland’s for a drink.
Roland raised a carafe of blood in my direction.
I nodded.
Come home with Adrian.
Bossy man.
Later. I need some time alone.
I’ll send Stella. She should have accompanied you to Destiny.
Bossy and protective.
What part of alone did you not understand?
Little Warrior, do not—
Roland slid a wine glass in front of me. I smiled my thanks and took a sip of blood.
I’m fine, Jonas. I’m surrounded by my father’s faithful subjects. Roland included. Dixon wouldn’t dare—
Do not underestimate him.
I almost choked on my drink. If he only knew…
I won’t. Promise. I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay? Have a nice night with Adrian. He should be home soon. Kat has everything under control.
As usual, and alleluia for that, given the heap of hell on my plate right now.
The silence told me Jonas didn’t like my plan. I rubbed the ruby in the ankh necklace he’d given me days ago, a cherished, loving gesture from my grumpy, overprotective mentor.
Say goodbye now, Jonas. Love you.
And I you, Little Warrior.
A chill blast of power heralded his departure, making me shiver.
“Cold, Princess?” A sultry, accented, male voice sounded from too close behind me. “Allow me to warm you.”
My mood hit rock bottom. “Go away, Fin.” I kept my back to the pretty boy. Maybe he’d leave.
No such luck.
“Move,” he growled.
The goth vamp next to me slid from his stool and whooshed away without a word.
Fin the show off. Bet he’d played the
I’m older and more powerful
card, or the
I’m higher ranking in the cosca
card. Either one worked.
I swiveled to face him as he sat. “I don’t want company.”
His lips curled upward, dark eyes sparkling with humor. “Sometimes, what we want and need are two entirely different things.”
I snorted. “Talk in clichés, much, old timer?”
He ignored my attempted insult and bowed his head at my former nanny. “Good evening, Roland. The usual, please.”
Roland grunted then gave the man his back.
“Didn’t know you were a regular.” I knew very little about my new party friend. Other than his lips tasted as good as they looked. Maybe better.
My face heated. Why did I have to remember that now? I’d kissed this man in the heat of the moment, a one-kiss-seals-the-breakup-with-Alexander deal.
Fin grazed a knuckle down my cheek. “Red is your color, Princess.”
I batted away his hand. “Don’t call me that.”
He nodded. “Pardon me. Rina.”
His posh, British accent made my name sound soft, feminine. I sort of liked that. Of course, I couldn’t afford softness right now, not with Dixon back. Strength. Nerves of steel. That’s what I needed.
Fin watched me closely. His flirty smile faded. “Do not let him break you. Do not let him win.”