Page 27 of The Rogue's Curse

“And to be clear, would you deliver my head separately or still attached?”

“Dead or alive,” David said. “He prefers alive.”

Misha and Paris met each other’s gaze, and he already knew what Paris was thinking.

A foot scuffed across tile, and Misha rose suddenly. “Someone’s at the door,” he said. Shit. If Shea had showed up, they weren’t ready, they were—

“It’s us,” a female voice called out. “Kristina and Sasha. You can take a breath.”

“No, they can’t,” Sasha teased. There was a chorus of laughter that made Misha smile despite himself.

“It’s fine. Kristina, come in,” Paris called.

While Paris went off to give Kristina and Sasha instructions, Misha returned his attention to David.“Why leave your court to come here, knowing Shea might not accept you?” Misha asked.

David writhed in pain, trying to get away from Misha. “Let me go,” he groaned, straining to reach a piece of glass with his outstretched hand.

“You have to realize you’re completely outnumbered and overwhelmed right now, right?” Misha asked.

“Fuck you, Auberon dog,” David said.

Misha burst out laughing. “I’m not with the Auberon. I speak for the Sanguine Crown,” he said.

“Fuck the Crown, too,” David said. “I hope the king kills all of you nice and slow.”

Misha raised an eyebrow and gave the magic thread a tug just to remind David of his position. The man writhed and let out a soft whimper. “If you think you’ll goad me into losing control or killing you, think again. If you were to get your hands on Number Two here, how would you deliver him to Shea? Do you have a location?” Misha asked.

“Fu—”

Subtle reminders clearly weren’t working. He dumped a compressed burst of energy into David. Thin lines split open along Misha’s forearm, as if the magical threads had sliced straight through his skin. The pain was distracting, but David was having a much worse time of it.

He writhed and clawed at the back of his neck, but Misha twisted the blade and grabbed the man’s sweaty, tangled hair. “There’s a phone number. No one outside the court gets to see Shea anymore. You call the number, and someone comes to you,” David blurted.

“Give me the number,” Misha said. There was a tiny scuff, and he glanced up to see Paris staring down at the whimpering vampire.

“It’s in my phone. In my pocket. Get it out, please, I promise I’m telling the truth,” David babbled.

Paris patted David down and took a phone from his back pocket. He raised his eyebrows and said, “What’s the code?”

“1138,” David spat.

He fiddled with the phone, then looked up as Kristina approached.

The blonde woman’s nose wrinkled as she tiptoed over another fallen vampire to rejoin them. Shaking her head, she said, “None of them smell anything like Shea. I don’t think any of them have been near him, let alone made by him. I mean, you guys might know better than me, but usually I can tell. Paris smells kind of like Julian, and Rachel smells like Dominic, but—”

“Kristina,” Paris said sharply.

“Sorry,” she blurted. “I just know very well what Shea smells like. None of these people are connected to him.”

Paris nodded and said, “We have a human prisoner. You and Sasha take him home. Cover his eyes and have Karina meet you off-site to check for trackers. No electronics enter the perimeter.”

Kristina nodded. “Understood. Do you want…” Her eyes skimmed over the fallen vampires, and then she drew one finger across her throat.

“We’ll deal with it,” Paris said. “Get moving with the kid.”

Misha did not particularly relish the idea of executing vampires, though it was more about the mess than the morality. Before they began their grim cleanup, he tugged once more on the thread binding him to David. It made his head swim, and he realized he was overdoing the magic, perhaps to impress his new colleague. “David, how many humans have you killed since you’ve been here?”

“Who cares?” David said.

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