44. Vasile

Chapter forty-four

Vasile

I let myself into my office, and only once the door is closed do I pinch the bridge of my nose, letting out a heavy sigh.

Kieran's challenge will take place tonight. Is likely taking place now, if Lucien's silence is any indication. I do not expect to hear from him until at least tomorrow; wolf mating bonds are nothing if not intense, and Kieran will want him close when this is done.

The air in the room shifts and I open my eyes with a frown. It only deepens when I see Jeremiah standing there, his hands deep in his pockets as he studies the drinks on the sideboard.

"Please, help yourself," I say tiredly. If he picks up on my tone, he doesn't show it. Instead, he helps himself to a drink—some brandy that has been there longer than I can remember—and takes a seat opposite my desk without looking at me.

The challenge is done, then. I can pick out Lucien's and Kieran's scents—Kieran's brother's, too. I know Kieran's path has crossed Jeremiah's, but I do not know why.

Jeremiah takes a sip of his drink. He looks at me for a long moment. "You look shattered," he says finally, crossing one leg over the other.

We both look no different than we did when we first met. The only difference is that we are at each other's throats less often nowadays.

"Where's your mate?"

"Around." Jeremiah's shrug is careless. Artfully so. I narrow my eyes.

"How did Kieran do?" I ask as I round my desk and take a seat.

Jeremiah cocks his head to one side. The stare he gives me now is more intense. It makes me want to turn away, but I stand my ground. I'm the clan's crai, and I am not about to be intimidated.

"He won, of course," Jeremiah says. I don't know if I've been judged or not. I don't know if I've been found wanting or not.

It doesn't matter.

"Of course," I say almost absently. "Why have you come to see me?"

Any other time, I know Jeremiah would have cracked a joke. Maybe levelled a threat. Tonight, he sets his drink aside and leans forward, elbows on his knees.

"Tamesis is back."

Blood rushes in my ears. My fangs push at my gums, making them itch.

"That's not possible."

"I saw him, Vasile. We saw him." Jeremiah pulls a face. "Paxton believes he's heading here next."

"And what do you think?" I try my best to keep my voice steady, but fear and despair and anger choke my throat, making me breathless.

There's a flicker of sympathy in Jeremiah's eyes. "I think he's right. Even if you're not his primary target anymore, there are enough people here he wants to hurt. And whatever he's been doing, he's finally ready."

Kieran , I think, and frown. "Why—"

"Tamesis killed their mother," Jeremiah says, and he sounds truly sorrowful in a way I have rarely experienced before. "We were tasked with looking out for the boys and watching for any interference. Once we realised Tamesis was not dead…"

I shake my head. It isn't possible. It just isn't.

"I'm sorry, Vasile. I am. But this is the truth of it."

"No, it's not," I force out. I rub a hand over my face and stare down at my desk, looking at the papers piled neatly on its surface.

So many dead vampires. So many others lost. Only Njáll and Moreau and I are aware of the scope of it, but I have investigated enough to know where Kieran came from, to know where Jeremiah has been watching—

"Did Moreau know?" I ask, even though I don't mean to.

Jeremiah goes still. I growl.

"Did you know?"

"Not at first," Jeremiah says. "Not for a long time. I had my suspicions, but I couldn't pin them down, and every time I thought it might really be him, I'd get thrown a curveball."

"But Moreau…" My eyes flick to the door, to the guards I know are waiting silently on the other side. They are vampires, sure, but they were never human . They're part of that thing Moreau never speaks of, the same way Jeremiah and Paxton are. "He knew the entire time, didn't he? He gave me guards because he knew ."

Jeremiah sighs. He picks up his brandy and this time he swallows all that's left before he sets the glass back down. "Yes."

My hands shake. Tamesis is… alive?

After what I did to him?

After everything I gave up to stop him?

"He drank from Kieran," Jeremiah says softly.

I jerk my head up, meeting his gaze. He breaks it to glance at the door, like I've just done, and his tone is more cautious.

"He drank from him," Jeremiah says, "and the wolves dragged his corpse out into the woods and left him there. And they came back the next day—the next afternoon —and he was gone. No ash. Nothing left."

My mouth goes dry.

"You need to protect your clan, Vasile. Yourself. Believe me when I say only Paxton knows I'm here. Keep yourself safe."

I shake my head. If Jeremiah truly wanted me safe, he would have told me before now. Even a hint of Tamesis being alive is more than I can bear.

But the fact that Moreau knew? That he made moves to protect me without telling me?

Without letting Deacon know?

"I need to go," I say.

"The wolf will be fine," Jeremiah snaps and gets to his feet. "You need to protect your clan , Vasile. You need to—"

I move quickly enough that he doesn't see me coming. He grunts when his back hits the wall, but there's not a hint of fear in his gaze and he lifts his chin when I look at him.

"Do not presume to think you can tell me what to do," I say, my voice hard. "Neither you nor Hunter Moreau has the ability to make me do things I do not wish to."

"Vasile. It will be safer to stay away from him."

Pain shoots through my chest, arcing over the broken remnants of a mating bond I thought long gone.

Stay away from him…

I have done that! It will not save him from Tamesis. I know it.

"Get out," I say.

Jeremiah sighs again when I let go and step back. He straightens his shirt. "We won't be far," he says as he smooths the fabric down. "We're still charged with looking out for the boys, whether they have their own pack or not. Paxton will never let me shirk my duty."

Oh, it's not just that. I know him better than that, and the challenge in his eyes—for me to call him out on it—tells me he knows that, too.

"I don't care. Out."

Jeremiah shakes his head and leaves the room, walking past my guards without giving them a second glance.

If Moreau didn't know he was here before…

I close the door and sigh. I know what I need to do.

Despite that, I put off my visit to the pack house until the next night. I spent the rest of last night pacing, wondering if I should call ahead or just show up, and, honestly, terrified that Tamesis is already out there, that he's already destroying everything I care about.

Kieran called not long after sunrise. He wants to meet me, and I can guess the topic of discussion. I am not a vampire who knows nothing of wolves, and I know enough about alphas on top of that. I was inclined, when he called, to give him anything he wished for—after all, I have recently learnt I am responsible for almost all of his woes—but instead, I asked him to meet me the next night.

Hopefully, I will be more composed by then.

Now, I'm walking around the back of the pack house, avoiding lights from nearby houses, and I look for a window I am certain will not be watched. For all that Deacon is the alpha of the city, he despises feeling as though he always has eyes on him. He believes he is more than capable of taking care of himself.

At least, he did.

The wolves will sniff me out quickly, but I do not care. I find the window I'm looking for and open it with ease, climbing into Deacon's office.

At first, I am surprised that Deacon isn't here. It gives me the chance to explore, to examine this part of his life.

I have never been in this room before, and yet I can tell it is a space where Deacon spends much of his time.

My insides quake. I have not been in a room with him for a century. Any interaction necessary for the running of the city goes through Moreau or Deacon's betas or my chieftains.

We have successfully been avoiding each other, and these are the circumstances under which I want to bring us back together.

No. I don't want that, no matter how the thought makes my heart race. I eye the window again. I could disappear back into the night, but Deacon will still know I was here. He might have moved on—though I have heard nothing of a mating with another—but I doubt he has forgotten my scent.

Deep down, I am not certain he can .

Footsteps sound, and I hear a stray heartbeat coming closer. It is steady and strong, and the footsteps falter when they reach the door.

Is it him?

I am not sure it would be worse if it wasn't.

The door swings open and Deacon stands in the doorway to his office, breathing hard. His brown eyes are wide—just for a second, I've surprised him—but they shutter when he scowls.

I swallow hard. "Alpha."

Deacon inclines his head. "Crai Vasile. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I suddenly regret coming here. What am I thinking ? Deacon was no match for Tamesis a century ago, and I do not see how that could be different now.

Deacon closes the door and moves behind his desk, cocking his head to one side. His gaze is dispassionate as it sweeps over my frame, and I try not to tremble where I stand.

I've heard, too, that Deacon spent decades running wild in his wolf form. For any other wolf, that would be it. There would be no coming back from that.

But Deacon seems—

"Is it about Kieran?" Deacon's frown deepens. "You must have been expecting it, crai. He cannot be anything else."

"No, it's not him. Not exactly. I—"

Deacon sighs. He sits and waves for me to take a chair on the other side of his desk. I do, fingers clenching the armrests.

When did being alone in a room together become so difficult?

And why isn't Deacon affected at all?

"Jeremiah visited me last night," I say. "It is my understanding that, after Kieran's mother was killed, Moreau sent him and Paxton to Kieran's village to watch over both boys."

Deacon shakes his head. "What are you getting at? Why is Moreau looking out for wolves?"

I clench the chair arms so hard, my knuckles go white. "Because a vampire killed Kieran's mother."

"Who?"

"Tamesis."

Deacon goes entirely still for a second before he lets loose a growl that has every hair on the back of my neck standing on end. His eyes flash silver, and when he leaps to his feet, I flinch.

"He's dead."

"I thought so, too."

"No! You—" Deacon turns away, sucking in a heaving breath. "Vasile…"

Something inside me breaks at the way he says my name. Does he know what truly happened that night? I have to tell him. "I drained him," I say firmly, the disgust and shame of it almost choking me. "I did. I know it. But he drank from Kieran, too, and the wolves tossed his body into the woods. They were certain he was dead."

Deacon looks through me, not at me. "But?"

"Jeremiah believes he's still alive. And the more I think about it, the more certain I am."

"Certain of what?"

"That he is behind everything."

"Everything?"

I shake my head, leaning forward in my seat. Deacon's looking at me now, and I know his wolf is still close to the surface, that one wrong move will call him out. "This is beyond London. Every supernatural creature has been driven out of Greater Manchester and into the villages and towns beyond. Three clan leaders between here and there are dead. Tristan, Adelaide, Lazarus… I couldn't work out what it could be, who it could be, but now…"

Deacon doesn't sit back down. He plants his hands on his desk, levelling me with a stare. Silver swirls in his irises and my breath catches in my throat at the sight of it.

"Why did you come here?"

"I—" I scowl. "You needed to know."

"Why? He can't use me against you again, Vasile. What's the point?"

I growl, jumping to my feet. "I thought he was dead! I thought I killed him, and I thought sacrificing everything I ever wanted was worth it because at least he was gone, but now—"

Deacon cuts me off. "Sacrifice?" He rounds the desk, and I fight to stand my ground in the face of his approach. He's taller than me, broader, and though earlier I thought I might not find him as appealing as I used to, I'm wrong.

My stomach twists with desire, heart leaping into my throat as I look up into my wolf's face.

"Do not speak to me of sacrifice, Vasile. Not when it comes to him."

"I can't let him hurt you. Not again."

"That is not your decision to make." Deacon leans in closer and I clench my hands in the fabric of my trousers to keep from reaching for him. "It was never your decision to make."

"You think I don't regret it?" We both—and Moreau—barely made it out of that last encounter with Tamesis alive. The hollow feeling that's taken up residence in my chest ever since?

That's my own fault. I know that. Who would want a monster?

"Why would you?" Deacon scoffs. We're so close now that I can feel his breath on my lips and I sway towards him, wanting to close the gap…

"I'm sorry," I say instead, some sense catching up with me. I take a step back. As terrible as I feel right now, as much as that hollow place in my chest still aches, I will not make it worse. One stray touch might reignite our bond, and I'm not certain either of us will survive it.

Deacon's eyes flare—with heat or annoyance, I can't tell—and his gaze on me feels like a physical thing as I cross back to the window I entered through.

"I just thought you should know," I say, pausing to look back. "Keep your packs safe."

The anger falls from Deacon's face in a moment, and he takes a step forward. "Don't go after him, Vasile. I—If you ever—" He shakes his head, and his next word breaks my already fragile heart. "Please."

I shoot him a faint smile. "I started this, lupul meu. I'll finish it."

I hear Deacon shout, "Vasile!" but by then, I'm already gone.