Page 18 of Vampire Savage

I look forward to Tuesday, Little Bird.

Message sent, I return the phone to my pocket and then retrieve the tablet I know is in the console before answering Ashe. Using the thumbprint and facial recognition, it unlocks for me and I find the surveillance app.

“I’ve secured an invitation to look at the other relics currently in his possession,” I say, half-distracted as I flip through camera feeds surrounding Alder until I find a view of Wren. I should focus on Oberon beside her, but she’s a magnet and I’m simply the needle that must always find her. “I doubt he will have the obsidian chalice on display, but his hubris is enough it’s possible. Has our contact in city planning sent the blueprint of his building yet?”

Ashe turns left, driving us towards the easternmost bridge that’ll take us into the Barrows. “It arrived while you were at dinner. I uploaded it to the network and into your files.” I sense his gaze and studiously ignore it as I dismiss the security app and navigate to the right folder to view the file. “So, you’re set on stealing it?”

I hum noncommittally as I scan the PDFs, displaying each floor of the high-rise building Oberon lives in. He occupies the penthouse, which is made up of three entire floors and a rooftop garden. I find it curious that Wren, despite her shackles to her father, lives in a separate smaller building a mile away. From the time I’ve spent observing her, it’s clear she wants to break free from her father but, at the same time, longs for his approval.

“From what I’ve learned, he only needs to use the chalice every twenty or thirty years,” I say, ignoring Ashe’s original question. “He’ll keep it close, though.” My eyes narrow as I see the plans for a fortified room on his level. I zoom in. “He has a panic room on the second floor of his penthouse, but there was an addition to it just before he moved in, according to the notes here. It’s the right dimensions for a safe.”

“That’ll be where he keeps it,” Ashe surmises and I agree. The panic room was expanded, ensuring the installation of the safe without losing space in the panic room. Rather than be set into the walls, an alcove was built into which the safe was then installed. Meaning it wouldn’t be any easier to get to the safe through the back wall, even with my enhanced strength. “Are the specs noted?”

A quick scan through the footnotes disappoints me. “No, but I can hack into the security of the building and find a backdoor into Oberon’s personal security. Even if it’s on a separate network, I should be able to learn what I need. How’s our dear sire and his human this evening?” I switch topics abruptly and return the tablet to the console compartment.

“You should speak of Eloise with more respect. She will be our queen one day.” There’s a faint warning in Ashe’s voice and I roll my eyes. Eloise appears to have wrapped every Nightshade vampire within Ambrose’s so-called inner circle around her tiny mortal finger. Even my mother adores the young human, spending a ridiculous amount of time with her and Kasar’s mate, Deidre. I understand that as vampires, we have the potential to find mates, but it seems to be catching and it’s something I have no taste for.

Between Ambrose and Kasar and then Ashe’s entire thing with Eris possessing the body of his witch mate, Cassandra, it’s enough to reinforce my distaste for lasting relationships. It’s bad enough when a submissive grows too close and believes they will be the one to finally claim my so-called heart. Their tears are the most exhausting part when it all unravels. It gives me no pleasure when their own beliefs and mistakes make them cry.

I’m always explicitly clear. Any sexual partners I play with stays just that—sexual and detached. It’s not that I don’t care for those who kneel for me, I do in my own, albeit unhealthy, way. I take care of them like a favored toy because that’s what they’ll always be. It’s when they convince themselves there is an emotional attachment that I set them aside.

It’s the reason I haven’t had a regular sub for over a year. Not since I’ve begun investigating Wren and how I can use her to get to Oberon.

“I have no issue with the girl,” I brush off Ashe’s chiding. “My issue is with how obsessed Ambrose is with her. He has grown lax in his control of the clan, delegating too much out to us and foot soldiers.”

Ashe snorts and gestures to the buildings around us with a hand, since we’re now driving through the Barrows. The sidewalks are gilded from the rain, with splashes of bright neon colors painting the street and pedestrians scurrying along. “Yes, because the Barrows is clearly struggling,” he drawls sarcastically, before raising a brow at me as we pull to a stop at a red light. “It’s called living, Lan. Ambrose isn’t growing lax. If anything, Eloise at his side has made him a better leader for the Nightshades and the Barrows. She balances him, like a mate should.”

“How is Cassandra these days?” A snarl rips through the air, and I smirk at Ashe’s anger before tutting. “Always so easy to rile. I assume Eris still shows no signs of vacating your mate’s body? Maybe you should just fuck the demon. I’m sure if you close your eyes—”

Sharp pain blasts through my jaw before my head collides with the passenger window. Laughing, I rub my jaw. “You could have done far worse.”

Ice ripples from Ashe beside me and he very pointedly presses a button on the steering wheel and my door unlocks. He’s glaring straight ahead, his cheeks flushed with anger. “Get out.”

Not bothering to respond, I do. I haven’t even closed the door all the way before the tires are screeching as he takes off, zooming into the evening traffic. I shake my head. Some pedestrians watch with surprise, then look back at me in curiosity. I may still be wearing the blue contacts, but plenty of those around me are supernaturals and recognize me for what I am. They quickly find something else to hold their interest, giving me a wide berth as I begin to walk, ignoring the smattering of rain. Absently, I remove the colored contact lenses, blinking with relief.

Ashe is too predictable when it comes to his pressure points. His conflict with the chaos demon Eris possessing Cassandra has lasted long enough, nearly one hundred and fifty years, that he should have mastered his emotions already. Instead, the vampire wears his heart on his sleeve, following Eris around like a lost puppy pretending to be a sentinel all in hopes that he’ll get his wife back one day. His assault in the car was minor compared to the time, roughly six months after Cassandra summoned Eris on the Nightshade’s behalf, I suggested he consider Cassandra dead and rid the world of Eris by beheading her. I even offered to do it, if he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

I spent a fucking week in bed recovering from his attack. The only reason why Ashe hadn’t killed me is because we are forbidden from killing fellow Nightshades without express permission from Ambrose. Joséphine had reprimanded me, informing me that I’d crossed the line far enough Ambrose had considered not ordering Kasar to step in.

Fucking cowards. I know my so-called clan cares little for me, and I have the same level of affection for them. I’ve considered exiling myself voluntarily if I knew I could still visit my mother. Unfortunately, Ambrose has shown how thorough his exiles are. Ezra, the one Nightshade I felt closest to, was banished fifty years ago. By dawn, it was as if the vampire demon had never existed. He’d broken the one rule Ambrose gave him when he’d joined the Nightshades: to never claim a mortal’s soul.

A demon cannot deny its nature just as a vampire cannot deny ours.

Losing Ezra hit the Nightshades hard, but Ambrose couldn’t let the transgression slide. Not when a horde of demons had been pushing back against the king. Would Ambrose have made the same call if it happened today, now that he was mated to Eloise? Ezra claimed the soul was freely given to him, but he’d refused to say who.

Whether or not I’m right in my belief that Ambrose is growing lax, it doesn’t change the fact that I have to tread carefully around him and my true intentions with Oberon.

A familiar scent has me navigating the streets deeper into the Barrows, becoming more crowded as I approach my destination. Most of the inner circle prefer Noir, but me? I have more deviant tastes. Lush, the Nightshade-owned sex dungeon, is my favored hunting grounds. In fact, I have a majority role in ownership in the business, much to the annoyance of some of my fellow vampires. Not that they complain when they’re looking for something rougher than their norm.

I stroll past the line at the entrance, already spanning half the block despite it not being even nine. There are quite a few I recognize as regulars, some I’ve played with and some I haven’t. My tastes run to the sadistic, so not all of the pretty submissives who look at me with awe will suit. Near the front, though, is a slender woman nearly the same height as Wren. When she looks at me, her eyes are brown instead of green, and her hair is an unnatural fire-truck red. Close enough, though, and she’s obviously alone.

Daniel, the demon who is working the front door this evening, unhooks the rope to let me pass, and I hold up a hand. I stop in front of the woman, raising a brow. She meets my eyes, before lowering them, and a slow smirk twists my lips.

“Do you enjoy the cane?”

Her grin is anything but properly submissive, but she answers in a polite tone. “Yes, sir.”

“You’ll do, then.” I gesture for her to step out of line and she does, her heartbeat picking up. The scent of her lust and fear prickle my nose and it... does nothing to me. Snarling at myself, others waiting to get in take a step away from me as I stalk forward, gripping the woman by the back of the neck and making her walk faster. As Daniel secures the rope behind us, I bury my other hand in my pocket, fisting Wren’s underwear before wrenching my hand back out.

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