Dark Seduction (Vampire Royals of New York #2) - Sarah Piper Page 0,9
into his coffee, then offered the last of it to Dorian.
Dorian slid his mug closer, accepting the shot. “If the demons taking orders from Renault Duchanes aren’t part of your organization, then whose?”
“You tell me. You must have ideas.”
“I’d rather hear yours.”
Of course Dorian had ideas—Alexei Rogozin, primarily—but he wanted to see how Chernikov would play this. The demon might claim ignorance, but if not—if he was actually willing to name names—Dorian knew the intel would be reliable.
False accusations? That’s not how things worked in their world.
It wasn’t honor, exactly, but people like Chernikov—like Dorian—didn’t get where they were without adhering to some kind of code. Which was why Duchanes, for all his machinations, would never amount to anything in this city. Even if he succeeded in slaughtering Dorian’s family and usurping the crown, he’d likely be overthrown by his own sycophants the first chance they got.
Such was the fate of every vampire king. Only two things could grant a reprieve—commanding respect, or inspiring fear.
Dorian preferred the former.
His father had made a centuries-long game of the latter.
Duchanes wasn’t strong or capable enough for either.
“I am not the only demon in town,” Chernikov said now. “The others… They’ve become pain in the ass—bigger pain than you know. And the vampires? I thought you had them under control, yet always, they come to me. Favors for this one, for that one. It wasn’t like this with Augustus.”
“Which vampires, specifically? Duchanes?” Dorian asked, ignoring the dig about his father’s superior leadership skills. “Tell me, comrade. Just how many favors have you granted the house plotting to overthrow the king?”
“I did not come here at ungodly hour to discuss my business practices.” Chernikov shoved a finger in Dorian’s direction. “Vampire mess is your problem. Your father would’ve handled it.”
In the span of a heartbeat, Dorian grabbed the empty vodka bottle and blurred into Chernikov’s space, smashing the bottle against the table and pressing the jagged end to his throat. “In case you haven’t noticed, demon, I’m not my father.”
Hellfire exploded in Chernikov’s palm, and the demon grinned, a trickle of blood leaking from the eye of his snake tattoo. “I didn’t think Russian roulette was your game, bloodsucker.”
Dorian shoved the bottle deeper into his flesh, holding firm even as Chernikov’s flames licked at his chin, hot and hungry. “Try me.”
Locked in a battle of wills certain to destroy them both, the men continued to glare at each other—a ridiculous competition neither could possibly win.
Finally, Chernikov backed down. With a raucous laugh, he closed his palm and extinguished the flame, and Dorian returned to his chair, pitching the broken glass into a nearby trashcan.
It was all a show, and they both knew it. But like their code, the occasional bit of dick-measuring had its place.
“You know why vampire is king and not demon?” Chernikov asked, flicking a few shards of glass from his suit jacket.
Dorian had several responses, all of which he kept to himself. “Enlighten me.”
“Magic.”
A dark chuckle escaped Dorian’s lips, and he reached for his coffee, shaking his head. “It’s that simple, is it?”
“Most things are that simple. We complicate them because we have human brains, and human brains like challenge. Makes us feel smart and superior, yes?” He opened a fresh bottle of vodka and poured another splash into his mug. This time, he didn’t offer any to Dorian. “Your witches… They give you more power. Change your nature. Make you smart and superior.”
Dorian sipped his coffee, waiting for Chernikov to circle back round to the bloody point.
“Demons? We have witches too,” he continued. “Not as many, of course. Most witches find demons… unpalatable. But there are some who crave the darkness. The chaos.”
“Yes, the dark witches. A charming lot, to be sure.”
“Charming, no. But powerful?” Chernikov shrugged. “Between this realm and hell, demons are always coming and going. It is the dark witches who decide how many.”
“They control the gateways.”
“Yes. And they could open more, if price is right.”
Dorian suppressed a shudder. Dark witches skirted the line, but they’d never been an outright threat. In Dorian’s lifetime, they’d played their part in maintaining the balance, carefully controlling the flow of demonic entities to ensure none of the supernatural races overpowered another or became too great a threat against humans.
“Is that what you want?” Dorian asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral. “Demons, storming the gates and flooding the city streets?”
“Nyet. I like being big fish in small pond. Too many fish come into my pond, they get ideas about taking over—like your