Page 49 of Taste of Death

Chapter 15

Novak

“Come in,” I said to the soft knock at my office door.

Lourna cleared her throat. “You have a visitor in the foyer, sir.”

I looked up from my data printouts. “Amy?”

“Sadly, no.” The human woman looked just as disappointed as I felt. “It’s ah, Thorne of Blood ‘til Dawn.”

“Thorne?” I couldn’t hide my surprise at who was essentially the vampire king coming to see me himself.

“I’ll be right down, Lourna. Thank you. Offer him something while he waits.”

“Of course.”

She left and I tried to wrap my brain around what Thorne could possibly want. He had to be pissed about my showing up to the mating ceremony. Naturally, he didn’t like me walking freely in and out of his territory. Not that I could blame him, but I would stand my ground.

Without a clan to rally behind me, I had no true power against Thorne. All I had was my dignity. He wasn’t going to have me groveling for an apology. And if he really was the just and fair ruler he claimed to be, he wouldn’t cut down a man who was already powerless.

Only one thing was for certain. I sure as hell would not let Amy shoulder the blame.

I waited a few more minutes before heading down to the foyer. The scent of darakt itched my nose as I came down the stairs.

“Thorne, welcome,” I said as I hit the ground floor.

“You can skip the pleasantries, Novak.” His lip curled into a snarl. “You don’t want me here and I don’t want to waste my time. Where can we chat privately?”

If someone wandered into Sanguine for the first time today and saw him, they never would have believed Thorne to be the head of the ruling vampire clan. He wore a threadbare T-shirt under a well-creased leather jacket, probably a relic from the 1970s. His darkwash jeans were faded to gray, and his leather motorcycle boots were scuffed to hell. He looked like an ordinary working-class vampire from the Heart, maybe a mechanic or darakt manufacturer.

Before they made the challenge to rule and won, the Blood ‘til Dawn vampires had been exactly that: manual laborers with humble roots.

“Fine with me. Would you prefer somewhere you can smoke?” I noticed he played with a lighter, and a pack of darakt cigarettes sat in his shirt pocket. Just because he was abrupt didn’t mean that I forgot my manners.

“Yes, sir,” he sneered with a fake upper class accent to mimic my own. “I would prefer that very much indeed.”

I ignored his mocking, and turned to lead him through the house. “This way.”

Trying not to be obvious, I glanced over my shoulder and in mirrors to watch him. Not that I believed he would steal anything, but I wouldn’t put it past him to spit on my floors. And I’d be damned if Lourna cleaned up any mess he made. Thorne could grab a rag and spray bottle and do it himself.

I reached the door to a small patio just off of the downstairs library, opened it and stepped aside for him. “Choose any ashtray you like. Make yourself at home.”

Thorne meandered around the patio, checking out the stringed bulbs offering gentle light, the ferns, small trees, and red-flowered plants lining the perimeter, and the outdoor furniture that Lourna kept in immaculate condition.

“Nice little jungle you got here.” Thorne eased himself into the loveseat, choosing the ash tray on the side table that had belonged to one of my uncles. “I want something like this at our compound. It’s just that no one seems to have much of a green thumb.”

“Most of the plants were my mother’s.” I sat across from him, downwind from where his smoke would travel. “I’m fortunate that my housekeeper seems to be good at keeping them alive.”

“How nice for you. Smoke?” Thorne held out a cigarette toward me.

“No, thank you. What can I do for you?”

He grinned slowly, red smoke curling from the corners of his lips. “Do you have any vices, Cursed One? Or are you too good for any of them?”

I shrugged. If by vice he meant unhealthy obsession, that would be finding the cure to Rathka’s Curse. Day in and day out, that was what kept me going for at least a century. But that addiction was becoming more burdensome than thrilling in recent months. There was no longer a high to chase, no hope for relief. Like a long-time addict, I simply kept going because I no longer knew any other way to live.

“Or maybe your vices go beyond darakt,” Thorne continued to muse. “Got a sex dungeon in this fancy house? A harem of blood pets you fuck and drink from?”

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