Wicked Bite (Night Rebel #2) - Jeaniene Frost Page 0,42

to be interested in the city. It gave me an excuse to stay in the sun’s rays. Ashael sat on a sofa in the darkest corner of the condo, which was decorated all in marble, sleek metals, and wrought iron. The only nod to any formerly living organisms was the silk cushions and silk covering on the silvery-gray couches.

“Why would a group of vampires choose an underwater structure to hide a relic in?” I asked when I could no longer stand counting the minutes since Ian had left.

“For one, it’s demon proof,” Ashael replied, a smile curling his lips. “We can’t teleport through significant amounts of salt water. Did you know that?”

I didn’t, but I’d be sure to remember that. “What’s the other reason?”

A shrug. “It was forgotten by history for thousands of years. Divers stumbled upon it a few decades ago, but none of the humans can agree if it was a man-made structure or a natural formation, so it’s not being excavated. Its remote location, strong currents, and sharks also keep most humans away.”

No wonder a group of vampires had repurposed it as a vault. It now also made sense why Ashael was so eager to send Ian after the relic. Any other vampire would have to beat their way through the thick stone, alerting the guards. But Ian could teleport in, get the horn, and teleport out. A simple smash-and-grab, if Ashael was telling the truth.

I still didn’t trust that he was. Call me jaded, but the last time I’d trusted a demon, I’d ended up ritually murdered for two decades.

“Care for something to drink?” Ashael asked, pouring himself a glass of triple-malt Balvenie scotch.

“No thanks.”

A silver knife appeared in Ashael’s hand. I tensed, but all he did was press its tip to his wrist. “Something stronger?”

I gave him a level look. “No.”

Ashael leaned back, toying with the handle of his knife. “Your concern for Ian is wasted, you know.”

From his tone, that wasn’t an endorsement of Ian’s fighting skills. I let out a short laugh. “Won’t you be surprised when he shows up with that relic, then? If you don’t already have a spot picked out for it, might I suggest shoving it up your ass.”

Instead of being offended, Ashael laughed. Then his chuckles died off and he gave me a sardonic look. “I’ve seen many women and men smitten by Ian. They all believed they were special to him, too. He’s talented that way. He doesn’t even have to lie. They simply infer what they want to hear from everything he doesn’t say.”

“Speaking from experience?” Ashael was gorgeous, dangerous, and powerful; a combination Ian would have found enticing.

Ashael let out an indulgent laugh. “No. My relationship with Ian was strictly business. He’s shrewd about not mixing the two. You should have kept it strictly business with him, too.”

Why did men always feel entitled to comment on a woman’s sex life? “You must have me confused me with someone who gives a shit about your opinion.”

The red lights in Ashael’s dark brown eyes began to glow. “You might not, but Ian makes you reckless, and you have far too many secrets to be reckless if you want to survive.”

I hadn’t been lectured this much since my sire Tenoch was alive. “Once again, how is that any of your concern?”

He only smiled. “Have you figured out the real curse of longevity? Boredom. The monotony just wears at you, doesn’t it? If you’re lucky, every several thousand years or so, you’ll find something that rouses your interest. If that something happens to be forbidden, well, all the more exciting, then.”

Is that what he thought Ian was to me? An escape from boredom? If I cared, I’d correct his misassumption, but I didn’t, so all I did was laugh. “As the kids say, whatever.”

“I wasn’t talking about you.” Ashael’s tone sharpened. “I was talking about your father.”

Now he had my attention. “What about my father?”

His smile said he knew he’d scored a hit. “Did you never wonder how the embodiment of the river between life and death found himself acting as a lowly doorman by assuming the role of Warden of the Gateway to the Netherworld? Or did you truly believe your mother was the first to rouse his interest enough for him to stray where it was forbidden?”

The embodiment of the river between life and death . . .

Was that what my father was? Ancient Sumerians had worshipped him as Enki, the god of water. Egyptians had revered

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