Page 20 of The Mafia Bloodline
Runa. Even the thought of her name made my chest tighten. She was still asleep beside me, tangled in the sheets, her golden hair spilled across the pillow like sunlight trapped in silk. My marks dotted her skin, my bond pulsing faintly through the bruises and bites that covered her neck and shoulders.
She was peace and fire, all in one breath.
And now, I had to leave her.
My body ached from being used, satisfied, drained in a way only a bonded vampire could be after three days of madness. I brushed my thumb over her jaw, and she shifted slightly, her lips parting in sleep.
“Rest,” I murmured. “You’ve earned it.”
I slipped out of bed quietly and headed to the shower. The hot water hit me like a reminder that I was still flesh beneath the beast…muscle and scars. The bond hummed faintly under my skin, tethering me to her even as I forced myself back into focus.
There was no time for peace. Not with Caesar Dragic back in our city. I have missed three days of knowing what that son of a bitch is doing in our city. It’s time to catch up.
When I stepped out, the steam trailing behind me, I caught my reflection in the mirror. Gaunt. A little hollow around the eyes.
Yeah, Viking was going to have a field day with this.
I pulled on black slacks, a crisp shirt, and my usual leather harness before heading downstairs. My phone buzzed just as I reached the bottom step.
Draugr: Can you make Club Havoc. Now?
Perfect.
“Yeah, on my way.”
I grabbed my jacket and keys, making my way to the garage. The night air hit me as soon as I stepped outside, cool and sharp. A reminder that while I’d been buried in my mate’s scent, the world had kept turning, and the threats hadn’t waited.
By the time I pulled into Havoc’s underground lot, Draugr and Viking were already there, leaning against Viking’s matte black muscle car.
“Look who finally crawled out of his cave,” Viking drawled, arms crossed, his smirk already loaded. “You look like hell, brother.”
“Thanks,” I muttered.
Draugr gave a slow once-over, one eyebrow arching. “He’s not wrong. You’ve lost colour.”
“Three days of… fucking will do that,” Viking added, the grin widening. “I can still smell it, by the way. You might want to hose off again.”
I shot him a warning look. “Say another word, and I’ll rearrange your jaw.”
He laughed, unbothered, clapping a hand to my shoulder as we started walking toward the club’s back entrance. “Relax, Volken. I’m happy for you. Really. It’s about time you got laid and relaxed a little.”
“Enough,” Draugr grunted. “We have business.”
That cut through the humour fast. Inside, the low thrum of bass pulsed through the floor, though the club was closed for the night. One of our men, Andrei, waited by the private booth, his face grim.
Draugr got straight to it. “While you were… otherwise occupied, Caesar’s was seen at another of our clubs.”
My jaw locked. “Which one?”
“Obsidian,” Andrei said. “Two nights ago. He didn’t stay long. Met with someone we are still looking into.”
Viking’s smile vanished. “Must be the fucking Irish?”
“Apparently,” Draugr said. “And it gets worse. Malakai’s name came up.”
The air shifted instantly…heavier, darker.
Malakai. The demon bastard who’d haunted our borders for years, who’d slipped through every trap we’d laid.
