Aden (Vampires in America) Page 4

  “Thank you,” she said, showing the first sign of real nerves since she’d walked into the room. She eyed the chairs in front of his desk, but clearly didn’t know if she should simply sit down or ask if he minded first.

  Not wanting the desk between them, Aden walked over and gestured at the flat expanse of window where the Chicago skyline was now decorated by a few fitful flakes of snow being tossed wildly in the ever-present wind. “Do you live in Chicago, Ms. Reid?” He knew she was staying here, but didn’t know if she considered this home, and he wanted to hear what she’d say.

  “Call me Sidonie,” she responded politely, coming to stand next to him by the window. “My family home is in the distant suburbs. So distant, it barely qualifies as such, but I’ve been living in the city for nearly a year while I research my latest story. But you probably know all of that.”

  Aden dipped his head in acknowledgment. “True, but you’re a reporter, so you understand the polite fiction of pretending you haven’t already investigated someone you’re meeting for the first time.”

  She glanced over and gave him a half smile. The first real smile he’d gotten from her. “Touché,” she said. “But you know far more about me than I do about you. You’re a difficult man to vet, Lord Aden.”

  “Not a lord yet, Sidonie.”

  “No?”

  He turned and gave her a patient look. “I did mention that Travis belonged to me? I’m quite certain he’s explained the process to you. Because I told him to.”

  Her blue eyes widened. “You knew all along who I was?”

  “Travis suspected something was up. You’re not exactly the blood groupie type, and he’s far smarter than he sometimes chooses to seem.”

  “Why let him invite me to the big shindig then?”

  Aden shrugged. “You were very determined, and I was curious. What is it you really want, Sidonie?” He reached out to trace one finger along the delicate curve of her collarbone, leaning close enough to draw in the sweet bouquet of her blood. She shivered, and he scented her fear. She was excited, too, by him, or maybe simply by the thought of having a vampire drink from her. But there was fear there. And that was far more arousing to him than any sexual curiosity.

  Still, it wouldn’t do to play into her desires. This wasn’t a blood bar, and he wasn’t some lust-driven idiot on a blood-drunk.

  He skimmed his finger sideways, as if he was about to tug her sweater down and bare her shoulder, but then lifted his hand and stepped deliberately away from her. She sucked in a breath, her face registering obvious dismay at his abrupt departure.

  “You still haven’t told me why you’re here,” he said absently, crossing over to sit behind his desk. He brushed idly at his pant leg and gave her an inquisitive look.

  She was still over by the windows, her heart fluttering, her breathing rapid, as she stared at him. A spark of something lit her eyes suddenly—embarrassment maybe, or even anger that he’d left her standing there while he sat.

  She blinked several times, then pressed a hand to her throat and said, “I think—” She coughed drily, and he gestured at the wet bar at the other end of the room.

  “There’s bottled water in the fridge.”

  She gave him a disbelieving look. A polite man would have gotten the water for her, would have ushered her to a chair as if she wasn’t fully capable of planting herself there. But then, he was neither polite nor a man. Besides, he didn’t trust himself not to taste her… and more… if he touched her again, so it was best that he keep his distance. He had other things on his mind tonight. Tomorrow was another matter entirely, however.

  He watched her walk over to the bar, hips swaying in her tight skirt. She bent over to the small refrigerator, displaying a nicely heart-shaped ass. Oh, yeah. As Travis would have said, he was definitely going to tap that before this was all over.

  She turned, bottle in hand, and he let her catch him watching. Her heart sped up again, and he smiled lazily, which only made her heart act up even more. A blush pinked her cheeks, and he pictured the same rush of blood coloring the imprint of his hand while she was bent over his desk, begging him prettily for release.

  “Lord Aden,” she chastised breathlessly, as if she knew what he was thinking. She took a sip of water, then pressed the cold bottle to her overheated face.

  He gave her a smug look and gestured at the two chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat, Sidonie. You seem overcome.”

  Her soft lips tightened in irritation, but only briefly. Whatever it was she wanted from him, it was important to her. Important enough that she’d sought him out, enough that she was willing to put up with his toying with her. And yet she hadn’t told Travis anything at all, clearly not willing to give up her purpose until she had the right audience. Interesting.

  She sat down, crossing her long legs with a slide of silk stockings. Aden gave her a blatant once-over, starting with her legs, traveling to her chest, and finally to her very annoyed expression.

  “We have business in common,” she said primly.

  “And what business would that be?” he asked, letting his doubt, and his amusement, show.

  “The late, and unlamented, Klemens was a drug dealer, and—”

  “I’m aware.”

  “But that was the least—”

  Aden’s phone rang, interrupting the woman’s discourse on Klemens’s many dissolute ways. He was both relieved and disappointed at the same time. Relieved because he really wasn’t up to a lecture on the evils of drugs in modern culture, and disappointed, because he’d expected better of Sidonie Reid. She’d gone to all this trouble only to tell him what he already knew? That Klemens had derived the bulk of his income from various illegal activities, including drugs? How very ordinary.

  He picked up the phone. “Bastien, what is it?” he asked, hoping it was something worthwhile.

  “We’ve found Silas, my lord.”

  “Tell the others. We’re leaving immediately.”

  He’d expected disappointment, but Sidonie’s look was more one of disbelief than anything else. “You’re leaving?” she asked.

  “Duty calls,” he said abruptly, not feeling any particular need to explain himself. “I’ll have my car—”

  “No,” she said quickly. “I’ll get a cab. Is it the challenge?”

  Aden was already halfway to the door, but her question made him stop and stare at her. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Curiosity,” she admitted, shrugging. “It’s a rather unique process, one we know little about. And it’s not exactly front page news.”

  “No, it’s not,” Aden said flatly. “And we intend to keep it that way.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ve no interest in writing an article on the inner workings of vampire politics. That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Because Klemens’s dirty business got a friend of mine killed.”

  “Vengeance? Klemens is dead already. There’s not much else you can do to him.”

  “But the others aren’t, the ones who worked for him. I want to see them destroyed, too. Them and their whole network.”

  Aden nodded, only half-listening. His thoughts were already on the fight ahead. Silas was very possibly the strongest opponent he had in this challenge, and Aden couldn’t afford to be distracted. “Be here tomorrow night,” he told her, not because he cared about her personal war on drugs, but because he wanted her. And he always got what he wanted. “Same time,” he added, not bothering to ask if the date and time were convenient for her.

  He started to turn away, but then looked back and skimmed his gaze over the bare skin of her neck, the snug sweater and form-fitting skirt, the spike heels. And he bared his teeth in what some might call a smile. “I do like the sweater,” he said, then strode out of the office without another word.

  “THE MOST ARROGANT, high-handed, rude man I have ever—” Sid paused in her muttered imprecations against Aden long enough to flash a reassuring smile at
the building’s doorman and ask him politely to call her a cab. She’d been surprised initially that Aden’s office was in Chicago’s Loop District. It was an older building, although completely renovated, and the neighborhood was very expensive for a supposedly temporary office, especially when that office took up two entire floors. Not that she’d seen much of the fifth floor. It seemed to be little more than a transfer point for the private elevator.

  She gave the doorman another smile and a generous tip, then climbed into the back seat of the cab and immediately pulled out her cell phone.

  “Sidonie,” Professor Dresner answered, her voice laced with surprise. “I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight. Did Aden cancel your appointment?”

  “No, I suppose you could call what we had a meeting, but a very unsatisfactory one. I’ve never dealt with such an arrogant—”

  Dresner interrupted her with a laugh. “Oh, my dear. They’re all like that, the more powerful the vampire, the more arrogant he’ll be. And, yes, they can seem rude, though I’m not sure they see it that way. I think they simply have no time for the slow thought processes of a lesser species.”

  “Lesser . . . you mean us?”

  “Humans, yes. You must have gathered by now that they don’t consider themselves human anymore, but rather something superior, more evolved.”

  “And yet they need us lesser types to survive.”

  “As we need cows and chickens, my dear.”

  Sid scowled. She hadn’t thought of it exactly that way and didn’t particularly care to. “It would serve him right if I wrote an article on him instead of Klemens and his criminal network.”

  Dresner’s response was instant and surprisingly prim. “I don’t think—”

  “Don’t worry. I already got that lecture from Aden. No writing stories about secret vampire stuff, or at least not the challenge, which is the only thing I know about him.”

  “No,” Dresner said, still sounding a bit stiff, but clearly trying not to. “I would imagine he wouldn’t like that. Vampires are very secretive about their society. It’s why I was so surprised you managed to get an invitation to their challenge gala. Although, as I said before, there are always a certain number of attractive humans invited to these things for obvious reasons.”

  “Yeah, there were a lot of those reasons going on in the corners by the time I left the party last night.”

  Dresner’s mood swung to a delighted laugh so quickly, it made Sid’s head spin. “I can imagine,” she giggled, sounding far more girlish that she ever should.

  That was one thing Sid found rather uncomfortable about the good professor. She didn’t only study vampires, she seemed enamored of them. And though Dresner had never said as much, Sid was convinced that her vampire expert had “donated” blood on more than one occasion.

  Sid winced as the professor’s giggle finally trailed off. “Well,” she said, feeling uncomfortable. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’d barely begun to tell Aden what I was there for, when he got a phone call from someone named Bastien. I think that must be his assistant, the guy who met me at the elevator.”

  “His lieutenant, you mean, and he’s far more important than you might think. His full name is Sebastien Dufort. His friends call him Bastien.”

  “Lieutenant, gotcha. I don’t know what he said, but Aden told him they were leaving immediately, then hustled me out of there.”

  Professor Dresner made a noise that sounded suspiciously like disappointment. Had she been hoping for tales of Sid’s adventures in vampire debauchery? But when the professor spoke, it was to ask something else entirely. “He didn’t say where he was going?”

  “No,” Sid responded drily. “He barely said good-bye. But I overheard one of the guys on the phone on my way out. Maybe Bastien, I don’t know, but he was saying something about Silas. Whatever that is.”

  “Not a what, a who,” Dresner said absently. There was a pause during which Sid could hear her shuffling something on the other end, then she said, “I’m sorry, dear, I’ve just received a message, and I have to respond to this. Different time zone, you understand.”

  “Oh, of course. I didn’t mean to interrupt. By the way, Aden asked me to come back tomorrow night—ordered me actually, but—shall I call you?”

  “Please do. I hate to rush, but I really must go.”

  “Okay, I’ll talk—” But she was already gone. Sid frowned at the phone, then shrugged philosophically. Dresner was an odd duck, but a useful one. Sid tucked her cell phone away and wondered who Silas was to Aden that he went rushing off so suddenly. And the more she thought about it, she also wondered why Dresner’s entire demeanor had changed when Sid mentioned the name Silas. The prof knew a lot more about local vampires than she’d been willing to tell, almost as if she worried that Sid would scoop her big story. In fact, the only way Sid had gotten her to tell as much as she did was by promising a quid pro quo. Sid would tell her everything that happened, everything she discovered, once she managed to meet the right vampire, and in exchange Dresner would tell her how to make that meeting possible.

  Sid pondered the possibilities. Maybe Dresner knew where this Silas was. Maybe Silas was another challenger, and Dresner was rushing off to be there for the big showdown between the two powerful vampires.

  For all of a minute, Sid considered calling Dresner back and asking to go along. But a minute was all it was. The prof might delight in the vampires’ brutal natures, but Sid was more cautious. The little she’d learned about vamps told her a challenge at this level would be bloody. And Sid was more concerned about making sure that none of the blood flowing tonight was hers, than she was interested in watching a big, bloody vampire showdown.

  Chapter Four

  ADEN TRANSFERRED from the private to the main elevator along with his vampires. These four were his own, his children. Once he became a vampire lord, they would form the core of his command structure. He trusted them with his life and quite literally held their lives in his hands. He also loved them in a way it was difficult to admit, even to himself. He had sworn off caring about anyone so long ago that he’d have thought he’d forgotten what it felt like. The most shocking thing to him, when he’d created Sebastien more than a hundred years ago, was the powerful bond he’d felt toward the new vampire. Even then, he’d assumed it was only because Bastien was his first. But with every new child he brought into the world of Vampire, the bonds became tighter to all of them.

  That reality had nearly dissuaded him from becoming a vampire lord, the idea of all those vampires, hundreds, maybe thousands, looking to him for their very lives. So many hearts beating in cadence with his own, so many ties binding him ever more tightly.

  But it was in his nature to seek power. Whatever it was that had made him Vampire had gifted him with the power of a vampire lord, and he could no more resist the lure of that power than he could his thirst for blood. And tonight, he would take one more step toward that goal.

  Silas was a child of Klemens’s, one of the dead lord’s favorites by all accounts. Many of Klemens’s surviving vampires—ignoring the fact that they only continued to live because Lucas had offered them protection after their Sire’s demise—now looked to Silas as their next lord. It made Aden’s challenge even greater, and it meant he’d have to kill many more than just Silas before his rule was secure.

  But Aden had never shied from death. Some people deserved to die. And others, like Silas, chose their own path, placing themselves in death’s way. Or Aden’s, which was usually the same thing.

  “Bastien, do we have confirmation on Silas’s whereabouts?”

  “Yes, my lord. Our source called a second time to confirm that Silas is at the West Loop blood house.”

  Aden frowned. “That’s a public club, isn’t it? How many humans are we going to have to deal with?”

  “The club has a private room, my lord,” Travis supplied. “That’s where we’ll find Silas and whatever humans have been chosen for the night. Shouldn’t be more than a few onc
e we get past the main room.”

  “You know the layout of the club?”

  “Yes, my lord. There’s a rough sketch on your phone.”

  Aden pulled out his cell phone and checked the diagram. The club was in a former warehouse, and the layout was straightforward.

  “All right, we go in the front and directly to the back room. Silas might have a watcher, but that won’t matter. It’s not like we can conceal our entry, anyway. Once in, it’s take no prisoners. It’s safe to assume Silas will have more fighters than the five of us, but power and skill count for more than numbers. We show no mercy, gentlemen. None of Silas’s people are to leave that room alive. I’ll handle Silas myself.”

  A chorus of murmured assents met his orders, and then the elevator hit the ground floor, and they flowed through the lobby and out onto the Chicago street. It was a cold night, and the few pedestrians who happened to be passing by shrank back as the five determined males pushed through the glass doors and into the long SUV waiting at the curb.

  Aden took note of every single person in his vicinity, categorizing and dismissing them as he went. He’d been born a slave, but the warrior blood of his Scottish ancestors flowed in his veins. Those genetic gifts had been honed to perfection on behalf of his vampire Mistress, until he had become a superb fighter and a brilliant strategist, the most lethal weapon in her arsenal. And now those skills, that lethality, were about to make him the next vampire lord in North America.

  The drive to the West Loop and the renovated warehouse was short. Klemens had established the warehouse as a blood house long before his death at Lucas’s hands. Aden had to admire the strength and discipline it must be taking for Lucas to maintain control not only of his own territory, but all of Klemens’s former territory as well. Especially when at least some of those vampires didn’t welcome him as their new lord. Fortunately, his friend wouldn’t have to carry that burden much longer.