Page 88 of Filthy Rich Vampires: For Eternity

“I don’t take sides, remember?” she said just as the door banged open, and a dozen vampires raced inside. “But I do take bribes.”

Apparently, we weren’t friends anymore, because Maggie had sold us out.

If there were rules to being a vampire, the first one would be not to trust anyone that wasn’t your own flesh and blood. Or, in my case, not to trust anyone. And somehow I always managed to fuck up and do it anyway. Vampires poured into the bar, rapidly surrounding every possible exit. Lysander was already on his feet, but I didn’t move.

There wasn’t a point. We’d been ambushed, and until I knew who had bribed Maggie into selling us out, I couldn’t be sure if we needed to fight or talk our way out.

A female, clad in black from head-to-toe, approached us. Her boots struck the stone floor of the bar with an echoing clack. She stopped a mere foot from Lysander. Her icy blonde hair was pulled into a tight knot at the back of her head. That was a mistake I could use against her if this turned violent. It was practically a handle. She surveyed me, her milky blue eyes narrowing as if she knew what I was thinking.

Judging by her rigid posture and the close-fitting black pants tucked into her boots, she’d been trained like a soldier. She certainly carried herself like one. But there were no weapons strapped to her slender, muscled form. Something told me that made her deadlier than if she had bothered to arm herself.

“You two made this mess?” The blonde looked around the bar, her eyes stopped on the unconscious female before moving on to the body parts of the less fortunate vampires. Her nose wrinkled at the iron scent of blood hanging in the air.

“We had help.” I hitched a thumb at Maggie.

The blonde glanced at her, slightly surprised.

“Your guys started it, Berit,” Maggie said coolly. “I couldn’t let them destroy the whole place, and you know my number one rule.”

The blonde I now knew was named Berit sighed deeply. “Yes. Yes. You break it. You buy it. I don’t think it’s meant that literally, Maggie.”

“So, you two are on a first-name basis,” I said, wondering if this was about more than a bribe. I turned to my old friend, waiting for an explanation.

“We have an arrangement,” she told me. “They drink here without causing trouble, and we’re golden.”

“That doesn’t explain why you sold us out, kid.”

“That’s the other part of the deal. They keep this place nice and quiet and off Council radar, and I let them know if any persons of interest pop by.” She shrugged. Her time in Venice had hardened her. It would do that to anyone.

“I didn’t know you got into bed with terrorists.”

She grinned at me. “Julian, I get into bed with whomever I please.”

“I need a drink.” Lysander groaned next to me. Turning, he stretched himself across the bar and grabbed a random bottle from below.

“Excellent idea,” Berit said, and I blinked. I looked to Lysander who stood with his fingers still gripping the bottle cap. “That will give us time to chat.”

“Chat?” he repeated. “We just killed your men.”

“You aren’t the first, and it sounds like they started it.” Berit crossed to us and perched on a stool. “They should have known better.”

“How sentimental of you,” I said with a hollow laugh.

“We can’t afford to be sentimental, Mr. Rousseaux.” She tapped the marble counter twice. “Or should I call say, Your Majesty.”

“You shouldn’t,” I warned her. “I’m not royalty.”

“But you are mated to a Queen, if the rumors are true.”

I remained silent. She was baiting me and until I knew what she was after, I refused to give her anything.

Maggie placed a wine glass in front of her before producing a bottle of Syrah.

“What do you want to talk about?” I asked.

“These aren’t the first of our people that you’ve killed.” It wasn’t quite a question, since she already knew the answer.

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

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