Misha’s face turned grim as he quietly explained. “The morning following vampire court, I killed my second in command. He had been a member of my keep for the past hundred years.”
Suddenly, tea with Misha sounded like a very bad idea. My claws crept out, digging into the underside of the wooden table. “Why did you do that?” I asked, hoping he had a damn good reason.
“My family and I woke to the screams of my maid. It took us mere moments to reach her, yet we were too late. Andres had drained her completely.”
Oh, God. “Bloodlust?”
He nodded.
“Misha, how is this possible?”
Misha shook his head. He reached for his tea, but changed his mind. “It shouldn’t be. I manage my family carefully. They feed well.”
If it wasn’t a lack of feeding, then it had to be magic. “Then some whack-job witch obviously cursed him.”
“I believe you mean cursed them.”
My eyes widened. His menacing tone told me he meant more than Andres and Taran’s hell date. “How many are we talking about, Misha?” He gave me a hard stare. “Misha! How many?”
“Twelve.”
Vamp court had been just a week ago. My mouth went dry. “Twelve vampires in seven days.” I blew out a shaky breath. “All yours?”
“Yes.”
“Have you discovered the witch who cast the curse?”
“No. I am not certain a curse was cast.”
I took a drink from my cup, trying not to think about an army of vampires stalking through the streets and thick forests of Tahoe. Ski season was over, but summer was quickly approaching. That meant thousands of tourists shopping, golfing, swimming, rock climbing, camping, and hiking. Not to mention the year-round residents.
I paused, realizing what Misha said made no sense. “What do you mean, you don’t think a curse was cast? Isn’t that how the bloodlust pendulum swings?”
“The blood of my vampires is linked to mine. Had a curse been cast, I would have felt it here.”
Misha placed my palm over his heart. Hard muscle tensed beneath the smoothness of his silk shirt. His steady heart beat rhythmically. Bump, bump. Bump, bump. Mine was more of a pitter, patter, thump, crash, thunk.
It had been a long time since I’d touched anyone. And touching Misha made me uncomfortable.
Misha must have felt my trepidation, because he released my hand before I could snatch it away. His head tilted with amused interest, but he spared me further humiliation by continuing. “Witch magic is playing a part, yes, but how remains obscure. I suspect a rival master is the key behind the attack against my family.”
“Why a master and not just a witch?”
Misha motioned to one of his goons, who handed him a large manila folder. “Celia, there is tremendous upheaval in the vampire world. Masters are seeking any excuse to challenge one another to the death.”
I leaned on my palm. “Okay…but why?”
“A master’s death at the hand of another master transfers all power to the victor.” He flashed a cheerless grin. “My kind seeks power and wealth obsessively, sometimes at any cost.”