Page 127 of Golden Eagle

Val sketched her a half-bow. “It’s lovely to see you, too, Detective. Detective,” he added with a nod to Lanny. “And your grace,” he addressed Alexei. He gave Jamie a little two-fingered wave. “I managed to escape.”

“I can see that. But how?”

“I had some help.”

“From?” Trina lifted her brows.

Val swallowed, the first sign of tension. “My brother, actually.”

“What?” they all four asked in unison.

“Vladhelped you?” Sasha asked with disbelief.

Val turned back to him, expression a complicated blend of regret and affection of an inward kind: affection for his brother. “He did. It’s all a bit complex, I’m afraid.”

Nikita managed to speak without growling. “Considering you’ve walked in like we ought to welcome you with open arms” – and Sashahad– “a bit complexisn’t going to cut it. Explain.”

Val sighed, but smiled. “Very well. I don’t suppose–”

“They gave me a tray,” Dante said as he returned, said tray loaded down with glasses and balanced precariously on one hand. “I don’t think–”

Val twisted around to see who’d spoken.

Nikita turned his head just in time to watch the disaster.

Dante’s mouth fell open. He dropped the tray – glass shattered with an awful crash, beer and liquor spraying everywhere across the floor – and went to one knee, head bowed, shoulders trembling.

“Your grace,” he said, as customers shouted in alarm and turned to see what had happened. “I am at you service. Completely.”

“Jesus –get up,” Nikita hissed, took Dante by the arm, and hauled him back to his feet. “You look like an idiot.”

Dante had gone chalk-white. His lip quivered. “But that’s – isn’t he–” In a terrible stage whisper: “The Prince of Wallachia.”

People were cursing the puddles on the floor.

One guy said, “You ruined my fucking shoes, dumbass!”

A server had swooped in with a rag, and she glanced up from the floor, eyes wide at the sound ofPrince of Wallachia.

The man with the ruined shoes reached for Dante’s shoulder.

Nikita sighed, and passed a compelling glance across all of them. “It’s nothing,” he said. “We’ll pay for the glasses.” Power ringing in his voice.

Everyone glanced away, as if they weren’t even there.

“Get your shit together,” he told Dante through clenched teeth.

Val was watching the exchange with undisguised amusement. “Why, yes,” he told Dante, “though formerly. I’m afraid I’m not the prince of anything at the moment.” He looked to Nikita. “Is he new?”

“Temporary,” Nikita said, and sent Dante back to his end of the booth with a none-too-gentle shove.

“Val,” Sasha said, voice laced with concern. “How did you get here? Are you alright?”

It made him an idiot and an asshole and insecure as hell, but Nikitahatedhearing that tone directed at another vampire. At the beautiful Valerian of all people. Sasha had always held a soft spot for him, and the sentiment was obviously reciprocated.

Val glanced toward the table. “I’m happy to tell you. May we sit?”

His mate – Mia – spoke up for the first time. She laid a hand on Val’s arm, and her nervous glance flicked across all of them; it lingered longest on Nikita; he could smell the fear on her. “Val, maybe they don’t want us to join them.”

---