There was a pause, as if she was struggling between the knowledge she was touching a raw nerve and curiosity.
Unfortunately, curiosity won out.
“How could that be worse?”
His jaw clenched, his thoughts veering toward the sheet of paper he kept locked in his lair. On it were written what had been lost after Gunnar’s mating.
The silver and gold mines that had been the source of their wealth.
The acres of territory that had been claimed by rival clans.
The weaker members who’d been stolen from their lairs and sold to slavers.
He stood at his sire’s grave and read from the list, promising her that her sacrifices wouldn’t be in vain. He would regain everything they’d lost.
“Vampires are by nature savage creatures.” He pointed out the obvious. “Without a strong leader a clan splits apart or becomes victims of more aggressive demons.”
She grimaced. He didn’t have to explain what happened to the victims.
“Why did the previous chief bother forming a clan if he didn’t want to be a leader?”
“He did, at first.” Roke had still been a fledgling when his sire had joined Gunnar’s clan, but he’d heard enough horror stories to realize how fortunate he was to be trained by the honorable warrior. “He was a rare clan chief who was willing to kick the ass of anyone who got out of line, but was fair in his judgment.”
“What happened?”
“He mated.”
She blinked at the clipped explanation. “That’s it?”
“The female was jealous of the time that Gunnar devoted to his people.”
She studied his tight expression. “You didn’t like her?”
The temperature dropped at the mere thought of the bitch.
“I hated her for destroying a vampire I once considered my friend.”
Sally shivered. “What happened to him?”
He glanced down to where her fingers continued to trace the dragon tattoo, his body savoring her gentle touch even as he twitched with the need to pull away.
The dark memories were crowding through his mind, a sharp reminder of the people who depended on him. The people who were once again left without a chief, despite his promises.
With a sudden shove he was off the bed and pulling on his jeans.
“That’s not my story to tell,” he rasped. “You should rest.”
There was a sharp, startled silence followed by the sound of Sally turning on her side and yanking the covers over her naked body.
“Got it.”
He lifted his gaze to study the rigid line of her back visible through the thin blanket.
“Sally.”
“I’m tired, Roke.”
And pissed, he silently added, ruefully using his powers to extinguish the candles.