Chapter 10: Novak

Chapter Ten

Novak

M y annoyance reaches an all-time high as I wait for Seiran to slither his way back into my club. The incubus has a lot of gall asking for a favor after the way our partnership fell apart.

I suppose I technically owe him for his years of service, but I’m still salty over the way things played out.

The business has survived without him, and some would even say it has continued to thrive. However, those of us who remember the days when Seiran ran Rut—the sex club portion of the business—would agree to disagree.

There’s a certain energy, a buzz, that comes from having an incubus in the building.

Their magic can’t force lust where there is none. It can, however, exponentially increase desire. No one complains after spending a night wrapped up in the hum of an incubus’s magic. In fact, for many decades, travelers came from hundreds of miles to experience the ambience of Rut.

Fine.

I’m pouting.

There is a slight possibility that it hurt my feelings when Seiran abandoned me and Reign.

That fucking traitor .

“Are you purposely trying to torment our old friend?” Reign tosses himself down in the club chair next to me as his gaze moves over the room.

“Where would you have me greet him? In Rage?” I reference the other side of the club that caters to a completely different type of patrons.

Rage houses the fighting rings, which would give the wrong impression. I don’t wish to fight Seiran. I simply don’t allow myself to think of him, unless it’s necessary. He made his choices, and I’ve made mine.

“The two of you undoubtedly have some tension that needs to be worked out.” Reign chuckles.

I briefly consider removing the mimic’s head.

I’d need to retrieve the Iron Ice blade that I keep in my safe. At least, if I wanted his beheading to stick. A standard sword would force him to spend several agonizing weeks healing, though.

I shake away those treacherous thoughts.

“There is no tension,” I grumble. “He asked to be given his freedom, and I obliged.”

Does it hurt my feelings that, after summoning him from the pits of Hell, he abandoned us? Possibly, but I would never admit that aloud.

The noises of the ongoing orgy get louder, and it only succeeds in grating on my nerves.

I shove myself out of my chair, stomping down the stairs.

“Where are we headed?” Reign asks from directly behind me. He’s damn fast for a mimic.

“Away from the over-the-top moaning,” I snap, tugging at my shirt cuff. “Someone thinks they’re auditioning for a porno flick.”

“Gods, your age shows at times.” Reign chuckles. “Maybe she’s just really enjoying herself.”

My claws elongate as I spin faster than my old friend can register. Wrapping my hand around his throat, I slam him into the wall. “I am not enjoying myself. Don’t test me tonight, Reign. I’m not in the mood for it.”

The asshole turns to pure smoke, reappearing in the corner. He tugs at the lapel of his suit coat and frowns. “You’re in a mood.” He flips me off with a long, tattooed finger and aims for the door that leads to the hallway that connects to the main club.

I bite my lip to keep from informing him that Seiran will be bringing a fledgling vampire to our door at any moment. It would only make sense to assume it’s the same woman Reign had some type of tryst with the other night.

No other freshly turned vampires have been changed in Black Cove. And I would have been notified of a fledgling if Seiran wasn’t covering for her by keeping her hidden.

My shoulders pull back as I work on forcing a placid look onto my face.

This reunion is nearly five years in the making.

Settling behind my desk, I watch the computer screens and wait.

Reign lies stretched out on the couch in the corner, watching something on his phone. Most fae avoid technology because it drains their magic, but being half nightmare prevents those effects from bothering him.

The pink-haired woman is easy to spot when she makes her way onto my computer screen.

Seiran guides her through the club and toward my office.

I don’t want him to think I’ve been waiting at his beck and call, so I close the feeds and shove myself out of my chair. I’m in front of the bar in the corner, pouring myself a drink, by the time Seiran knocks.

“Would you like one?” I lift my glass, offering Reign a bourbon.

He snorts. “You’re terribly spiteful.”

Well, I can’t deny that. Bringing the tumbler to my lips, I take a long swig. Alcohol doesn’t do much for my system, but I find the flavor comforting.

Seiran knocks again, louder this time.

My eyes roll, but I call out, “Come in.”

Seiran enters with the woman tucked under his arm. She leans into his chest, her eyes darting about the room.

Her jaw falls when she spots Reign, and she points in his direction. “You returned my hat.”

“That, I did.” Reign chuckles as he rises from the couch and swaggers closer. “I even told you where to find me if you wanted a rain check on that drink. How about I treat you to something cool and refreshing while these two hash out their hellos?”

Seiran nods, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “That might not be a bad idea. Reign will look after you. I trust him.”

“Okay,” she finally says, stepping from under the incubus’s hold.

Reign catches my gaze, winking before he leads her back to the door to exit my office.

Seiran sighs and glances around, like he’s appraising everything that’s changed in his absence. It’s strange to have him here once more, but that’s the nostalgia talking. I’ve learned since his departure that having friends is overrated. He sure thought the worst of me without a shred of evidence to back it up.

“Everything looks the same. I guess it just feels different,” he says, turning until his eyes meet mine. “As I said on the phone, I need your help.”

My eyes flutter shut as I fight the urge to say something cutting. Bringing my drink to my lips, I take a long swig. “I’m sure it’s important to you. Otherwise, we both know you wouldn’t be here right now.”

Seiran crosses his arms over his bare chest. He is in a pair of dark jeans, but he must no longer see the fae tailor I set him up with for magicking his clothing to accommodate his wings and tail, because he wears nothing on top. “Greer is half siren. She was changed very recently, but she can give no details about her maker. If she even tries…” His long black hair flies around his face as his head shakes. “It’s bad.”

“And where is her maker?” The bond between a vampire and his or her progeny is intense. For many hundreds of years, Greer will experience a longing to be in his or her presence. The significant discomfort when physically away from whoever changed her will last for at least a few years.

“He released her. I get the feeling it wasn’t a consensual transformation.” His whole body stiffens.

Seiran is generally good-natured, despite being a creature of Hell. His magic needs consent to be able to feed. My kind are not confined by the same rules of the universe, and while I personally see no appeal in an unwilling partner, I understand that some vampires have no such qualms.

Seiran likely finds it impossible to fathom, but he shouldn’t. He’s lived long enough to understand there are all kinds of monsters that make up the supernatural world.

“And what would you like me to do?” I ask, trying to keep my tone disinterested.

“See if you can override the compulsion,” he says, like I should already know this. “I can’t find him to murder him if she can’t give me any details without risking frying her brain.”

A heavy sigh rattles from my lips.

How did I know he was going to say that? Now I have to worry he’s going to get himself into trouble because of that woman.

Lovely.