Page 4 of Clash of Sin and Secret

“Keep digging on Kaza and Daeva,” I say, already turning away. “I want them both.”

I stalk back toward the residence, each step fueling my resolve. Let them doubt me. Let them whisper. I’ll find Kaza.I’ll bring back Francesco’s head. And I’ll remind everyone—especially Zane—who really has his back when shit hits the fan.

Not the girl who ran away when things got tough.

Me. The one who stayed.

CHAPTER TWO

Tucker

After getting my father settled in his apartment above the Jack of all Fades barbershop, I use the entrance in the kitchen to access the vampire compound. The damage done by Daeva’s men when they blasted through the secret access has been fixed, but, the ‘secret’ part became moot.

With the latch released, and the fridge swung away from the wall, I duck and step into the private tunnel. Scottie said she and Zane used to play in this maze of corridors behind the walls.

Their size would’ve made that a fun pastime.

As a six-foot-seven man—not so much.

At the first opportunity, I exit the tunnel and take the public passageway. I’ve used this access point before and it’s remote enough that I can usually slide into the compound proper without running into any unfriendly vamps.

Not tonight, though.

As I make my way to the royal residence, I interrupt a dark-haired vampire clutching a barely clothed woman in a hungry embrace.

His mouth is buried in her neck, his fangs—no doubt—buried in her throat.

My gut clenches.

Every instinct in me burns to rescue the helpless human female. Then she lets out a moan and I focus on her expression. Her lips are parted and swollen, her fingers clutched in the guy’s shirt, pulling him closer.

She’s riding his leg where he’s wedged it between her thighs, grinding on him good. By the throaty moans she’s letting off, she’s on the verge of climax.

Vampires weaponize pleasure. They leverage it to get what they want, and humans willingly submit for the ecstasy they receive in return.

I find it distasteful, but it’s also none of my business.

I’m a guest in this family of fucked up and keep my opinions to myself and stay off their radar—which is difficult for a man my size.

I must linger too long because the vampire’s eyes snap open. His stare locks with mine, his irises as crimson as fresh blood roses.

“My apologies. Just passing through.” I drop my gaze and continue on my way, passing the couple as the woman peaks. Throaty cries of pleasure follow me all the way to the main corridor, but I put it out of my mind.

The last thing I want to do is trigger a vampire’s territorial instinct.

The guards outside the royal residence recognize me and I give them a polite nod as I pass their sentry. The rooms just beyond the massive double doors are where Francesco used to receive guests. The decor screams old money and power, and garnered him a great deal of respect among his visitors.

Renaissance paintings in gilded frames line the windowless walls, lit by a crystal chandelier which casts warm light across antique furniture that costs more than I’ll make in ten lifetimes.

It’s exactly what you’d expect the home of a six-hundred-year-old Fondatori king to look like.

But beyond the next set of doors is where the private rooms of the royal residence lay. These rooms are no less elegant, but are much more modern. Bathed in the colors of the Vasari clan—black, silver, and ox-blood—this part of the suite feels like a home.

And it’s where Scottie and Zane grew up.

I hear the two talking and follow the sound of their voices across the polished marble floors to the living room. But while this section of their home is more modern, there are still no windows.

Growing up in the Northwest Territories, I lived with endless horizons and open skies. These vampire spaces feel like beautifully decorated tombs. I understand the necessity, but my animal side doesn’t like being caged, no matter how fancy that cage might be.

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