Succubus Unchained - Heather Long Page 0,72

least not right now.

“Synove,” Brandt said finally. “She came looking for Eamon a couple of weeks ago.”

Synove was tricky. Rogue didn’t know her at all, but Alfred had often warned about her tendency to play mental tricks and dabble in illusion. With that in mind, he swept a look over Brandt, who had finally clutched the stein Rogue offered to him but hadn’t yet drunk it.

“Who else?”

“Eamon, obviously.” Brandt grimaced. “He owns the club now.” Rogue slid him a look, and Brandt held up his hands in surrender. “He owns it, as a silent investor. You know how he is about coin.”

If one of the seven owned this place, then Rogue shouldn’t be inside it without their permission.

“And I am his host,” Brandt admitted. “You have broken no protocols, and you will always be welcome in my establishments.”

Pretty words. Dangerous subtext.

“The last?” For now, he would not allow any other reaction to leave him. Alfred had sent Maddox and Fin to discover where the other six were. They were all waking. Fiona’s initial turn and final transition had stirred everyone. It had been a beat that roused Fin and eventually Alfred.

“Cyril.” Brandt cast a worried glance at him, and well he should.

Cyril and Alfred loathed each other.

“All three have granted you this immunity?”

“They have.”

Rogue shook his head. “Do not betray us.”

“I would never,” Brandt said. “I have offered no allegiances, and I will pledge none. You have asked for me for a service. You will pay handsomely, yes?”

It went without saying, and that he brought it up was tantamount to offering an insult. The other vampire grimaced, then bowed his head.

“My apologies, m’lord.”

Rogue didn’t respond. The vampire didn’t deserve a response. Rising, he motioned for him to stay seated, even as the other vampire rose. The throbbing music, the stench, and the underwhelming lack of respect… No, not lack of respect…Brandt was just readying himself for the potential power shift if the seven went to war.

The last time had decimated vampire ranks and left them in sparse numbers for decades.

It had also damn near wiped out the dragons and Rogue’s own people.

Ending a war before it started was the better idea.

Rogue threaded through the crowd, taking the path that led him directly through the throng. The crowd grew more frenzied. The smell of hot blood being spilled attracted his gaze, but he took only enough time to note that it was human and she was being fed on by three or more. They would have bodies on the floor before dawn.

Not his problem.

Humans came and went.

They would also pay the price if this went to full-blown war.

Outside, the cloying and humid air of the club gave way to the cool streets of Paris. The city teemed with nightlife. The more exclusive clubs, like Brandt’s, were harder to find if you didn’t know where they were located.

A sweep of the area let him pick out the watchers.

Four of them.

Only two were vampires.

They had chosen good vantage points. One even looked like a tourist. The shifters stood out more. Particularly the wolf.

Rogue’s senses sharpened. They weren’t trying to corral him. Most likely, they wanted to follow him. Find Fiona.

The keep wasn’t a secret. But only those retainers who had proven loyal had survived their sojourn and the offering.

The others had been executed.

Brutal, but efficient.

Alfred had been furious with him for taking Fiona away. Particularly with the threat of the seven, but she was in far more danger with them than away.

Or she had been, until the idiots in Dallas decided they would punish her for existing.

Fin had given them some quarter after Isaac’s abandonment.

There was no coven in Dallas any longer.

Rogue slid his hands into his pockets and started walking. He had no use for large cities or crowds of people, but he blended, half-fading from their perceptions as too normal, average, and unremarkable.

It worked better when he could blend into nature itself. Elves were not seen unless they wanted to be seen. Too many had forgotten that gift. His watchers hurried after him, one abandoning his pretense when Rogue faded from easy observation.

A smile creased his lips as a second watcher cursed and then strained to locate him, while Rogue made his way down an alley toward the boulevard with its midnight cafés and smells of wine and pastries. It was one thing to hunt them, to try and pin them down. It was another to remember that he and his brothers were not prey.

They would never be prey.

As soon as

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