Clearly, this was more than a missing humans case. It was a threat to monsters and humans alike. How had the damn Kominsky clan managed to manifest powers that no other vampires ever had? Gods, if his own family had been able to harness invisibility, none of them would have died.
He shook himself. No, he couldn’t think like that. The past was gone. What was done could not be undone.
But they could do their best to fix what was happening now.
Was Emmaline the human link? Was she Matteus’s companion? And clearly Quentin Jordak was involved. What had Matteus promised them? Eternal life? Ha, he could vouch it wasn’t worth it.
But whatever the bribe, they had somehow also worked out that Clare’s blood was needed to keep their hideous dimension functioning. He was sure of that.
He stared at the steaks laid out in front of him, red and juicy, and a shudder ran over his scalp and down his spine, fear for her safety hitting with renewed force.
He went over the plan in his head.
Tonight after he drank Clare’s blood, he would fly to the Dark Dimension. Night-time was when vampires indulged in ceremonies and blood gorging, he knew that much from bitter experience. Under cover of darkness, he would have a better chance of dodging the grimaald guards, getting past those walls to the palace behind and finding out if it those poor humans were being gorged on.
And at least while he was gone, Clare would be safe in his home.
But right now, if he didn’t get his act together, there would be no food on the table.
Quickly, he salted and peppered the steaks. Tossed the salad leaves with a light dressing.
And then he took the stairs two at a time to his bedroom suite, overlooking Motham City in the glow of evening. Showered, changed into his best shirt and casual slacks.
Splashed on a dash of his cologne.
After he’d dressed, he pulled down the sleeves of his white shirt and adjusted the silver ring on his finger. Glancing at it,his heart clenched; he remembered his father wearing it. This ring had been in his family for centuries. His grandfather had given it to his father as a blessing for a new life. Oliver winced. It was the only thing he had salvaged from the burning remains of his home and family. It had shone brightly in among the smoldering debris, as if calling to him. He’d grabbed it and fled. Hidden it away and refused to wear it through those dark days of addiction.
Wearing it would have been like betraying his father.
When he finally sorted out his life and became a detective, he’d slid it back onto his finger on his very first day at work.
Feeling, at last, that he deserved to wear the Hale crest.
Now he slicked back his thick silver hair and spruced his beard, adjusted the collar of his shirt. Smiled at his reflection.
At least his fangs hadn’t lengthened. He put that down to the fact that he had rigorously stopped himself from thinking about Clare’s blood, her smile, her beautiful body.
Hopefully he could keep the damn things under control until the time came.
As for his cock. Hell, his libido was so fired up he really had no idea if he could contain it.
His ears pricked suddenly as voices drifted up the stairwell from the hallway.
Gods, he’d never felt so nervous dating. Sure, he was fucking rusty on that front, but these were next-level nerves.
Back up the truck! You are not dating. This is work.
Stop trying to deny it, you fool. You’re in love with her.
With a muffled curse, but a tiny smirk playing around his lips, he headed out of the room and down the ornate staircase to welcome Clare.
She took his breath away, standing there with a bottle of wine in her hand. His driver, Brian, pulled a forelock and exited.
“Will that be all?”
“That will be all, Brian. Thank you. You can go home for the day.”
The bald eagle exited with a small bow to Clare. If he had any notion of what might be going on, his impeccable manners gave nothing away.
