Page 22 of The Rogue's Curse

“Tomorrow,” she said. Her brows arched. “He asks about Kristina a lot, but I never know what to tell him.”

Paris scoffed. “Tell him to fuck off,” he grumbled.

“Maybe not the best choice when we both have guns. I usually just say she’s fine, but that’s probably a lie given the circumstances,” Dani said. She glanced at her watch. “Getting close to sunset. I’m going to get started before the evening rush.” He nodded, gave her a brief pat on the back, and watched her go. After losing their luxurious club at Infinity, they’d transformed one of the upstairs office suites into a decent lounge. It wasn’t the same, but it was still better than being alone and drinking right from a bag.

In addition to daylight deliveries, Dani had become their self-proclaimed ‘vampire lunch lady,’ serving up blood bags and cocktails most nights. Olivia groaned every time she heard it, but Danielle seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in her strange title. Not only was she a good bartender; she had an easy way of making conversation that made their renovated lounge feel like a proper bar.

He appreciated Danielle’s rough edges; she rarely put on pretenses and lacked a filter. Perhaps that would have been a detriment in a buttoned-up office job like her sister had once held, but he enjoyed Dani’s prickly personality. She would be a good vampire, but he didn’t want her joining their fight. He just wanted to protect the people he had left for as long as he could.

He hurried back to his office to review personnel assignments. He was in the middle of sending out an updated schedule when Olivia bustled into his office and blurted, “There are people at Infinity.”

“What?” That made no sense.

“I still have access to all the security systems, and I just got an alert,” she said. “Someone’s there. Do you want me to send the Musketeers?”

He stared at her blankly. “The who?”

“My idea for the new Shroud. They’re French, like you and Nikko,” she said proudly. Then she laughed and shook her head. “It’s terrible.”

“It’s terrible,” he echoed. “As for Infinity, I’ll deal with it. I’ll take Volkov out and see what he can do.”

Olivia nodded and said, “Be careful.”

There was still an hour until sunset, so he decided to drop off his gift. Feeling rather pleased with his surprise, he sauntered into Misha’s borrowed office. Turning the corner, he nearly dropped the bottle when he found the handsome Russian already at the desk. And even more shocking than his presence before sunset was the stunned expression on Misha’s face.

For several awkward moments, Paris stood frozen, remembering how he’d looked up at Misha’s eyes, glazed over with pleasure as he stared down. It was hard to play it cool after an extraordinarily vivid dream involving another man’s cock in his mouth.

“Oh, I didn’t—” he stammered.

“Please, come in,” Misha said. There was already a laptop connected to a large monitor, casting a blue glow on the man’s face.

“I was trying to be surreptitious, but clearly I failed,” Paris said wryly. He brandished the bottle, prompting a broad smile from Misha. That toothy grin stirred his blood and for a moment, he thought he would have to run out of the room lest his body betray him.

“I would not say this is a failure,” Misha said, holding out his hand. He examined the bottle and nodded appreciatively. “I hope you won’t judge me, but I’m not really a connoisseur. Is this good?”

“It’s very good,” Paris said. He had agonized over which bottle to purchase; something too cheap would be rude, but too expensive would make him look odd and desperate.

And why had he even done it?

It was normal for him to bring gifts and offer favors, even for people he hadn’t dreamed of fellating in a dreamscape rose garden. He liked being helpful, and certainly enjoyed people’s affections. It would benefit him to be in the good graces of Misha Volkov, who had a direct line to the Sanguine Crown. Only a fool would pass up the chance to flatter him.

Gods, even he wasn’t buying his own bullshit.

“Perhaps we should try it together,” Misha said.

His cheeks heated. “Perhaps. After business?”

“Of course,” Misha said. Then he glanced at his watch and tilted his head. “Why are you awake? There’s still thirty-seven minutes until sunset.”

“Too much to do that can’t be done in bed,” Paris said. “What’s your excuse?”

“The same,” Misha said. He gestured broadly to the chair across from him. “Would you like to sit?”

“Am I in trouble?”

At that, Misha chuckled. “Your entire court is in trouble, I think,” he said. His amber eyes skimmed over Paris, his lips parting as if he intended to ask a question. Graceful fingers skimmed over his cheek. “You didn’t have that this morning. What happened?”

“Casualties of training clumsy humans in self-defense,” he lied.

---