Page 15 of The Incubus and the Bodyguard

Gustav’s eyes had darkened, the deadly focus that made him Yuliy’s right-hand man returning to his face. “How much did they capture?”

“All of it,” Jared grunted. “The video is already down. But a lot of people saw it.”

Gustav took his cell out and started calling people, his expression somber.

Yuliy observed Vlad critically. “Go home and get some rest. I’ll send some men to watch over your place.”

Vlad opened his mouth to protest.

“That wasn’t a suggestion.” His uncle’s eyes softened slightly. “Whatever else happened tonight, you kept your word. The families are alive. Let me deal with the politics.”

It was a dismissal, albeit a gentle one.

Vlad nodded reluctantly. “Yes,dyadya.”

He turned to leave.

“I’ll assign you a new bodyguard,” Yuliy said. “Ilya and Milo will be out of action for a while.”

Ilya protested.

Yuliy cut his eyes to him. “You either take the time you need to heal or I’ll put another bullet through your leg.”

“Yes, boss,” Ilya murmured miserably.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Vlad said irritably. “I have Tarang.”

Tarang yowled, similarly incensed.

“Really?” Cortes muttered behind him. “You two want to have that argument right now?”

Yuliy’s eyes shrank to slits. “You’re having a bodyguard and that’s that.”

Vlad ground his teeth.Great. Just great.

CHAPTERSIX

The noiseand heat of the bar washed pleasantly over Vlad as he lounged in a red leather armchair.

Though it was a welcome respite from the chaos of the past couple of days, the whiskey in his glass did nothing to ease the hollowness inside him. He took a brooding sip of his drink and watched the patrons milling about.

TheVelvet Roomwas a high-end bar a few blocks from his Chelsea penthouse. The place had a retro vibe, all dark wood and leather, and an impressive collection of rare spirits displayed behind a copper-topped bar.

It was one of his regular haunts for those nights when he didn’t want to be alone in his apartment.

Tarang paced restlessly beside his chair. Though invisible to the crowd in the bar, his familiar’s anxiety was all too apparent to Vlad, his emotion bleeding through their dull bond.

Forty-eight hours after the incident at theOro Divino, they still couldn’t access their powers.

“You’re going to wear a hole in that rug,” Cortes told the tiger.

Tarang made an annoyed sound.

The Colombian was nursing his own drink opposite Vlad, his relaxed pose that of a man without a care in the world. Only someone who knew him well would notice the slight tension in his shoulders.

“How’d the meeting with Giovanni and Wei Chen go?”

Vlad grimaced. “About as well as you’d expect.”

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