Dark Deception (Vampire Royals of New York #1) - Sarah Piper Page 0,32

him was that alliances held the power. It just so happened that vampires—particularly the oldest, wealthiest families like his—had no shortage of eager allies.

Until the great cock-up of 1972—Dorian’s great cock-up—when he’d failed to protect their bonded witch from an attack and, in the bloody aftermath, the witches cut ties, nearly all the prominent families turned their backs on House Redthorne, and his brothers vanished from his life.

Now, by a chance order of birth and the twist of fate that had killed his immortal father, Dorian was the rightful vampire king. His family had money—more than they could spend in a hundred lifetimes. They had stocks and art collections valued in the billions. Luxury automobiles that filled the wet dreams of lesser men. Property in more than a dozen countries, and businesses in twice as many.

But when it came to trusted friendships, to partners, to those precious allies that secured true power, they had nothing. At a time when the greater families were vying for power, the lesser vampires were growing restless, and demons were quickly encroaching on their territory, Dorian and his brothers stood virtually alone.

He thought again of Chernikov’s demons, the attack in the park. His own dulled instincts, the ache behind his eyes, the mental fog. All the ailments he’d once been magically spelled against—something he’d taken for granted when he had access to a bonded witch.

And if any of their enemies discovered his father’s weakness? The same weakness that likely ran through the entire Redthorne line?

The royal family was in deep shit—more than their father had admitted to Dorian. More than Dorian would admit to his brothers now.

But aligning with Duchanes was not the answer.

“So you’d rather do nothing?” Gabriel shook his head. “How utterly predictable of you.”

Dorian curled his hand into a fist on the mantle, then released it, letting out a sigh. He hadn’t planned to reveal his strategy to his brothers, but without it, they’d surely stage a coup.

More importantly—a fact Dorian was loath to admit—they’d shown up. They remained in his home even now, despite the tension and bickering. For how long, he couldn’t say. But tonight, the surviving Redthorne Royals were present and accounted for. His brothers were home, looking to him for guidance, whether they’d readily acknowledge it or not.

He owed them.

“Nothing could be farther from the truth.” Dorian finally turned to face them again. “I’m in the process of acquiring Armitage Holdings.”

“As in… Lucien Armitage?” Colin asked. “The old mage?”

Dorian reclaimed his chair and poured himself a fresh glass of scotch. “Lucien and Father became quite close in recent years. Now, he’s retiring, and he doesn’t want his company disbanded and sold to vultures. FierceConnect is a good fit.”

Armitage Holdings was a mage-owned company that specialized in illusion magic used in all sorts of human visual technologies, from apps to artificial intelligence to virtual reality. Dorian’s company—a social gaming platform with 500 million worldwide users—was most interested in the latter. It really was the perfect marriage.

“What of his children?” Malcolm asked.

“Neither of his sons is interested in running the company,” Dorian said.

“And his daughter?” This, from Gabriel, who’d never trusted witches and always resented that vampires were so dependent upon them.

Dorian glanced at the thin magical tattoos snaking up Gabriel’s forearms, without which he’d be confined to the darkness, unable to enjoy even the simplest human pleasure of a meal or a stiff drink. He thought Gabriel ought to be a bit less judgmental of witches, but kept the opinion to himself, waiting instead for his brothers to put the pieces together.

“I see,” Malcolm said, first to figure it out. “And you think Isabelle Armitage will simply throw herself into the desperately waiting arms of the very vampire family accused of murdering their last—”

“Lucien and Isabelle are both eager for her to be placed with a prominent family,” Dorian said.

“And you think that family is ours?” Malcolm asked. “Has this been promised?”

“Not in so many words. But with our business interests closely aligned, it’s only a matter of time before our personal interests align as well.”

“And once we have a Redthorne-bonded witch,” Colin said, his dimples flashing, “we’ve no need of alliances.”

“Not from the likes of House Duchanes, anyways,” Dorian said. With their own witch, they’d have unlimited access to all the spells and enchantments that kept vampires strong and, for the most part, human. Alliances—proper, mutually beneficial alliances—would certainly follow.

“You’re assuming our enemies are going to nod and smile and let you continue to play king,” Gabriel said.