Page 194 of Golden Eagle

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They walked up. For some reason – stupid, probably – Alexei had expected a vampire as posh and seemingly-moneyed as Gustav to be chauffeured up in a sleek German car. But they walked, three of them, their scents carried along on the breeze before they appeared walking three-across down the rutted gravel drive. Gustav in the center, in another sharp suit, flanked by his two wolf Familiars: Hannah, and Carey, the bartender from Nameless.

Alexei shuddered. He tried to stop it, and ended up biting the tip of his tongue, and settling into deep, unsettling shivers.

Dante reached over and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Lex.” His tone was so urgent that Alexei had to look over at him, and his expression was even more dire than before, edging toward panic. Oh, right; he’d wanted to tell Alexei something.

“What?” If he was snappish, he blamed nerves. He wasn’t in the business of facing people down, of having confrontations. He could claw his way out of a bad situation if cornered, but he hated it. Oh, how he hated it.

Dante gathered a breath. “I need to tell you – and I hate to. I don’t want to tell you – but I have to. My conscience demands that I–”

“Tell mewhat?” A darted glance proved that Gustav and his Familiars had drawn closer, were only a hundred or so paces away.

Dante huffed a few short, sharp breaths. “Lex.” Pleading. “I should have told you sooner – I should have told you right away. I didn’t…”

“What the fuck?”

“I know Gustav.”

Alexei’s pulse skipped.

“I know who he is,” Dante said, breath hiccupping, eyes shiny. “I’ve known all along. I helped him find you.” His gaze dropped, and he blinked hard. “I’m sorry. You can’t know how sorry.”

“Ah,” Gustav said. “Well done, Norrie. It took longer than it should have, but I suppose you got it done in the end. That’ll be all.”

Alexei tore his gaze forcibly from Dante, vision tilting and swimming like he’d lost too much blood as he looked at Gustav. The other vampire stood with his hands in his trouser pockets, as well-groomed as ever – but his face looked unwell: pale, shadows, deep circles beneath his eyes.

“I must admit,” Gustav said, grinning, lines Alexei had never noticed before sprouting from the corners of his eyes. He’d only ever seen him in the dark of the club, never out in the daylight; even the dense cloud cover wasn’t enough to hide the fact that, before his turning, Gustav had been weathered by his experiences, made older by worry and stress. “I’d hoped this would work out, but I wasn’t incredibly optimistic. I wasn’t sure Norrie’s little modern douchebag routine would appeal to you, but I suppose a pretty face is a pretty face, no matter the rest.”

Alexei’s knees trembled, and threatened to give out. He felt on the verge of a blood-loss swoon. This was going all wrong, totally sideways. He was, for an awful, breathless second, a boy again, legs swinging useless over Papa’s strong arm, as they went down, down, down the stairs into the…

No. No, he wouldn’t think that. Wouldn’t let himself get sucked down into that. He’d made a decision this morning, still drowsy with the last echoes of pleasure, more clear-headed and sure than he’d maybe ever been.He’dcalled this meeting, not Gustav.Hewas the one in charge.

He took a breath, drew himself stiffly upright, and lifted his chin to an imperious angle. It was a gaze he’d perfected as a child, that royal ability to look down one’s nose, even at someone much taller. Gustav wasn’t much taller, but tall enough, and his smile slipped a fraction when Alexei gave him his best heavy-lidded, princely look. “Don’t insult yourself and bore me acting like you’ve won something.” His tone was the sure, chilled crack of autocratic authority that his mother had used on government ministers, when she stood at Papa’s shoulder and served as the sharp teeth that Nicholas had never liked to bare. “You’re here at my behest. I have questions, and you’re going to answer them.”

For the first time since he’d met him, Gustav looked almost uncertain. But he smoothed his features and said, “Questions you’re going to ask in the name of your pack leader?” His lip curled at the end.

“A prince has no leader but himself. I have no affiliation with Nikita Baskin – and an occasional friendship of convenience, only. I’m asking for myself, and you, serf,will answer.”

Gustav’s brows went up, and his gaze sparked. “You overreach.”

Alexei wanted to shout at him. To scream his whole long, storied blood history into this insolent wretch’s face.Do you know who I am? I am the blood of Byzantium, and Muscovy. I am the double-headed eagle of East and West. I am the snows that turned back Napoleon. I am the sword that checked the Ottoman sultans. I am the wrath of an entire empire winnowed down to one bleeding, furious child with a grudge against the world.

But princes –tsars. His father was dead, and so he was thetsar. Tsars didn’t screech and rail. So he made his voice colder, and he lifted his chin a fraction higher, and he said, “Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll spare your life.”

Gustav stared at him a moment – and then gave a harsh bark of laughter, face creasing with manic amusement. “Let me live?” He wiped at his eyes. “Who’s going to be your executioner? Hm? Norrie’s my creature. And no one else loves you. Will you kill me yourself?” The idea sent him off on a fresh peal of coughing laughs. He clutched at his ribs – but not from hilarity. He was hurt, Alexei realized. Nikita had pummeled him, and he clearly wasn’t done healing, yet.

How? Alexei wondered. He himself was the only vampire he’d met who healed so slowly, his old human disease still manifest enough to hamper him in immortality.

“Alexei,” Dante tried, voice small and miserable.

Alexei sliced a hand through the air, without looking at him, a wave commanding silence. “I’ll deal with you later,” he growled. To Gustav: “Are you done?”

“My.” Gustav heaved a breath, cleared his throat, and finished wiping his eyes. Carey had produced a handkerchief that he dabbed at them with. “Yes.” One last, low chuckle. “Ask your questions, Tsarevich–”

“Tsar.”

“Tsar Alexei Nikolaevich. I’m listening.”

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