A Vigil in the Mourning (Soulbound #4) - Hailey Turner Page 0,44
Sage remained on his right, guarding his weak point, refusing to let anyone get close enough to touch.
The undead scent of vampires permeated the air and walls, leaving a disgusting taste in the back of his throat every time he breathed. Jono tracked half a dozen vampires in the crowd who only had eyes for his small group. He didn’t trust any of them, didn’t like being surrounded, but this wasn’t his territory. He had no power here but what he’d pry out of Lucien.
And Jono wasn’t leaving without a promise of an alliance.
Carmen met them at the bottom of the stairs leading to the VIP section, wearing a dress that was little more than a negligee. The red silk edged in black lace matched her pupils and hair, though she still kept most of her glamour intact. The bruise on the side of her throat was the perfect shape of Lucien’s messy, jagged fangs. Vampire fangs as a whole weren’t neat and orderly, and they used all of them to access the blood of their victims. Carmen and the human servants never seemed to mind the bruises and scars left behind.
“Where’s Patrick?” Carmen asked.
Jono ignored the question. “Where’s Lucien?”
Carmen’s mouth curved in a too-knowing smile Jono didn’t care for. She curled her fingers at him, the varnish on her long nails the same color as her dress. “This way.”
She led them upstairs to a space that overlooked the main floor of the warehouse. The smaller bar up there was manned by a human servant, but the area was mostly empty. The only ones taking up seats were Lucien and several vampires from his personal Night Court that had become the Manhattan Night Court back in August.
The underlying quiet in the mezzanine area echoed strangely beneath the music—no heartbeats, no breaths, because vampires weren’t alive in the traditional sense. The undead didn’t need to breathe except for when they needed to speak.
Lucien’s gaze settled on Jono, the expression on his pale face seemingly carved from stone. He wasn’t dressed for the cold outside—ripped jeans, a gray T-shirt—and he wasn’t unarmed. He carried several knives on him, all of them smelling a bit like magic.
“Where’s Patrick?” Lucien demanded.
“Working a case,” Jono replied.
Lucien’s black eyes narrowed as Carmen went to sit on the low-backed leather sofa he’d claimed. “You smell like blood.”
Jono refused to acknowledge the half-healed wound over his ribs. “Must be your club. Should hire some cleaners to sort out the mess your Night Court makes of its meals.”
“The blood is coming from you.” Lucien kicked up a boot against the edge of the table between them, jostling the tall bottle of vodka situated in the ice bucket. “I hear you’re claiming territory that isn’t yours to take.”
Jono took a seat in a chair without asking for permission. None of the others with him sat down, merely circled his seat in a show of force and protection. “I have packs that live in every borough. I know you burned all existing contracts with Estelle and Youssef’s pack when you took over the Manhattan Night Court, but I figure we can come to an understanding.”
“I don’t make bargains. I don’t sign contracts. You’re asking for rights you’ll never get.”
Jono leaned back in the chair he’d chosen, lifting his left leg to rest his ankle on his right knee. “I know you love war more than you love Carmen, and I’m here to offer you one in exchange for an acknowledgment of border rights.”
Lucien’s expression never changed. “I make my own wars.”
“If you make one here, in New York City, the government will figure out you’re where you shouldn’t be. I’m offering to cover for you.”
“I’ve been doing this a long, long time, wolf. I’ve seen governments rise and fall. Human laws mean nothing to my kind.”
“They mean everything to everyone these days, whether you want to believe in them or not. They favor my kind more than yours, but I think we can come up with an agreement that will be worthwhile to us both.”
Lucien leaned forward, jagged teeth bared in a hard smile. “You seem to think I give a fuck about your pack problems. They don’t interest me.”
“Estelle and Youssef are partnering with the Krossed Knights. You know those hunters are allied with demons. What makes you think I’ll stay their only target?”
“Historically speaking, you won’t,” Sage said calmly from his right. “Your one and only meeting with Estelle and Youssef left a mark on them, Lucien.”