“Hell, no.” Styx shoved himself away from the desk, his power filling the room with an icy chill. “If anyone is going to kill the prissy pain in the ass it’s going to be me. Unfortunately I’m not prepared to start a war with the fairies, no matter how tempting.”
“Ah.” Viper flashed a smile. “Then you invited me to chain you to the dungeon wall so you don’t do anything stupid?” He offered a mocking bow. “My pleasure, Your Majesty.”
“You can shove that ‘Your Majesty’ up your ass,” Styx growled.
His people knew just how badly he hated any symbol of authority. Well, except for his big-assed sword that could cut through an ogre with one swipe.
The one sure way to grate on his nerves was to call him by some stupid title.
Viper’s smile widened. “Fine. What do you need from me then?”
“Nectar.”
“Nectar?” The clan chief waited for the punch line. When Styx merely studied him with growing impatience, he gave a shake of his head. “What kind of nectar?”
“How the hell should I know?” Styx made a sound of disgust. “The stupid prince keeps bleating about some nectar that is essential to his survival.”
“He’ll die without it?” Viper shrugged. “Problem solved.”
Styx shook his head. After a week of enduring Magnus’s moans and groans, he was ready to stake himself.
“Not if I have to listen to him complaining until he finally croaks.” Styx shuddered. “I just want to shut him up.”
Viper moved to stand near the windows that offered a stunning view of the moon-drenched rose garden.
“Understandable. No one likes a whiny fey. But I’m not sure why you called me.” He turned back to send Styx a puzzled frown. “I don’t have any nectar.”
“You have clubs that cater to the fey.”
“And?”
Styx swallowed a growl of annoyance. Viper was obviously in no mood to be helpful. No doubt it had something to do with being taken away from his beautiful mate.
“And at least one of them must have some damned nectar,” Styx snarled.
Viper pulled his phone from his pocket, accepting that Styx wasn’t going to allow him to leave until he had what he wanted.
“I suppose I could check around.”
“Yeah, you do that.”
With a grimace, the silver-haired vampire began contacting his various managers that ran his chain of demon bars. Styx didn’t doubt at least one of them would have what he needed.
Viper’s clubs were notorious for satisfying the desires of his guests. No matter how outrageous those desires might be.
“Got it,” he at last muttered, glancing at Styx. “Tonya has a fresh batch.”
Thank the gods.
“Tell her to bring it.”
“Now?” Viper scowled, a businessman to his very soul. “The club—”
“Now.”
Viper rolled his eyes. “Bring what you have to the Anasso’s lair,” he commanded the beautiful imp who was in charge of his club a hundred miles south of Chicago. “But don’t try to travel directly into the estate,” he warned. Styx had a layer of barriers wrapped around his home to prevent magic. He had a lethal dislike for unwanted guests popping in. “You’ll have to stop at the edge of the estate and wait for an escort to bring you inside.”
Styx reached behind him to punch a button that opened the intercom to his security team, warning them to expect the imp.