Page 4 of A Game of Love and Betrayal

“On that, we are agreed. He was disgusting.” Brynleigh looked her handler over, noting the ruffled appearance of his red hair and his flushed cheeks for the first time since she arrived. She asked knowingly, “How’s Owen?”

“He’s good.” Zanri’s blush deepened, and the corner of his mouth tilted up, confirming everything she needed to know.

Owen Farnish lived in a desert city in the Southern Region but often worked with Brynleigh’s Maker, Jelisette. He and Zanri had an on-again, off-again situation. When they were on, they would disappear for hours whenever Owen came to town.

“Tell him I said hello.” Brynleigh liked Owen. He was one of the kinder people that Jelisette dealt with, and he always took the time to talk to Brynleigh, even back when she’d been newly Made.

“I will.” Zanri smiled for a moment before his mouth flattened. “I left as soon as I got your message. Jelisette will want to debrief, and I need to wipe the security feeds.”

There went Brynleigh’s plans of lounging in front of trashy reality TV. Usually, Jelisette was out until dawn, but apparently not tonight. “How long until she arrives?”

“Less than an hour.” In addition to being Brynleigh’s handler, Zanri was in charge of technology and communication for their little operation. He had a gift for everything electronic in nature and ensured everything they did stayed under the radar. “She’ll be proud, B.”

Something sparked in the depths of Brynleigh’s stomach. Even if she didn’t exactly like her Maker—Jelisette was cold and icy, even for a vampire—Brynleigh was destined to want to please her. That was the nature of Maker bonds. Every vampire felt that way towards the sire who’d given them the gift of immortality.

Besides, Maker bonds were some of the strongest ones that existed. Even more than a mating bond, the link between Maker and progeny was incredibly powerful. There had only ever been one person who’d successfully broken their Maker bond, which happened thousands of years before.

Brynleigh owed Jelisette everything. The older vampire had found her after the worst night of her life and taken her under her wing. Before, Brynleigh had been nothing but a mediocre human, and now she was skilled in more ways than one.

She allowed a small smile to form. “Good.”

Zanri pulled his hair into a bun and strode across the room. He gave her a gentle shove towards the bathroom. “Go shower. You have blood splattered across your skin. You should clean up. You know how she feels about looking good.”

If anyone else dared touch Brynleigh like that, she would bite them—or worse. But she and Z had an understanding of sorts. They weren’t really friends—she didn’t do friends anymore—but they were colleagues who didn’t mind each other.

“I know.” Raising the pitch of her voice, she mimicked Jelisette’s melodic, lyrical voice. “Rule number three: vampires are weapons. We must always look our best and be prepared to use every gods-given gift to our advantage.”

Brynleigh’s Maker had a lot of rules.

The shifter’s mouth twitched, and he looked like he was holding in laughter. “That’s the one. Now go.”

She wouldn’t argue with him. A shower did sound appealing. Especially after Brynleigh remembered the caked layers of dirt and grime in Geralt’s apartment.

Brynleigh hurried into the bathroom, turning on the shower while she removed her weapons, stripped, and threw her clothes into the hamper. By the time she stepped under the water, steam billowed around her like a cloud. It was hot, and her skin quickly turned red, just as she liked it.

Twenty minutes later, Brynleigh felt like a new vampire. There was something about hot water and soap that was utterly life-changing. She toweled off, pulling on a fresh pair of black leggings and a white crop top as Jelisette’s magic swept through the safe house. Seconds later, a lilac scent reached her.

Brynleigh tensed, and her heart beat faster. This always happened when her Maker came near. It was a remnant from that first night when Jelisette saved her. Flashes of lightning, booms of rolling thunder, and memories of waves taller than her head swept through Brynleigh’s mind like an unwanted storm before she banished them. This wasn’t the moment to remember the worst night of her life.

Curling her fists, she forced herself to take slow, deep breaths.

Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

Again and again, Brynleigh continued the practice until her heart rate returned to its normal, measured rhythm.

She was a deadly vampire. A bringer of death. She needed to get a grip. She wasn’t a child unable to control their emotions. She was twenty-three.

Well. Sort of.

She’d turned twenty-three six years ago, and then she’d been Made. Inside, she still felt twenty-three. She wasn’t exactly sure when that would change. After a few decades? A century? Two? Eight, like Jelisette had seen?

Right now, Brynleigh couldn’t imagine living for so long. The pains of her mortal life continued to haunt her, and she still experienced human emotions. Perhaps those would dull over time and lose their potency. Perhaps that was the key to living for centuries: letting herself get cold like Jelisette. Brynleigh had never even seen her Maker shed a tear, let alone laugh.

This wasn’t the time for those kinds of thoughts, though. Jelisette did not take kindly to lateness.

Shadowing back to the living area, Brynleigh’s stance was wide as she clasped her hands behind her back. Zanri leaned against the wall casually, studying the chess board that was a permanent fixture in the safe house.

Seconds later, shadows gathered on the mahogany hardwood floor near the entrance. Brynleigh’s skin tingled. Her own darkness fluttered in recognition of the powerful magic entering the space.

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