“I need you strong, Lana,” he murmured, knowing it would persuade her. “The fight isn’t over yet, and I need you with me.”
She sighed, a long, exhausted exhale, then rolled her head back and parted her lips. Vincent placed his bleeding wrist over her mouth, then closed his eyes and rested his head against hers as she began to suck. Every draw of her mouth, every touch of her tongue felt as if it was his cock in her mouth instead of his wrist. He fought back a groan, keenly aware of the many eyes watching his every move.
“Michael,” he said finally.
“Sire?”
Vincent opened his eyes to look at his lieutenant. “Find secure quarters for my people and bring in our own daylight guards.” Even as he said it, he realized that every vampire in the room was now included in his people. But that would take some getting used to, and Michael would know what he meant.
Vincent looked down to see Lana’s eyes open and looking up at him. She drew her mouth away from his wrist with a lingering stroke of her tongue and said, “Jeff Garcia.” Her voice was weak but urgent. “He’s injured, but he’s alive. In the room where they held me.”
“Michael,” Vincent said, never looking away from her.
“I heard, Sire.”
Lana closed her eyes and breathed, as if gathering her strength, then her eyes opened again. “Did we win?”
Vincent grinned. “We did. Thanks to you and your knife.”
Lana smiled and tried to laugh, but she only managed a breathless cough. “I feel like I could sleep for a month,” she breathed.
“We’ll both sleep,” he said, holding her to his heart. “There’s just one more thing you need to know.”
She looked up at him in question and he bent his head low, speaking for her ears only. “I’m not your fucking partner.”
Epilogue
Malibu, California
RAPHAEL GLANCED over when the dedicated phone line rang, noting the caller’s number on the display. He exchanged a knowing look with Cyn, who understood as well as he did who was likely to be calling on that line and from that number.
“Vincent,” he said, picking up the phone and greeting North America’s newest vampire lord. He didn’t even try to conceal the smug satisfaction he felt at Enrique’s death, nor did he need this phone call to let him know the old lord was dead. He, along with every other vampire lord on the continent, had felt Enrique’s demise the moment it happened.
“Raphael,” Vincent responded, using no title or honorific. Intentionally, Raphael knew, a way of establishing that the two of them were equals now, both lords, both members of the Council.
“Congratulations,” Raphael said. “Enrique will not be missed.”
“Not by anyone I know,” Vincent agreed.
“And Xuan Ignacio?”
“Alive last I saw him. Although he if wants to stay that way, he’ll find himself a new lord sooner rather than later.”
“Very generous,” Raphael said, and meant it. If he’d been Vincent, he’d have executed Xuan on the spot.
“Lana pled his case. She was eloquent.”
“Ah.” Raphael understood exactly what Vincent meant. One’s lover, or mate, could be very persuasive if one cared enough about her. And apparently Vincent did. Interesting.
“Speaking of such things,” Vincent said, “I have a gift for you.”
“A gift,” Raphael repeated, letting his doubt flavor the words. He and Vincent did not exchange gifts. They were not friends. His role in Vincent’s nascent rise to the Council had been purely out of self-interest.
“A rather unique gift,” Vincent continued. “Parisian in origin, I believe. Difficult to transport, but Lana and I would welcome you and your mate to Mexico City if you’re interested in taking a look.”
Raphael was silent for several minutes as he considered what Vincent was saying—and what he wasn’t.
“We’ll be there tomorrow night,” he said finally. “My people will contact yours with the details.”