Strike that.
Their pack.PARIS, FIVE MONTHS LATERBelly sloshing, Vik winced and slowed his lunging strides up the stairwell toward his apartment. Perhaps he’d overindulged tonight, taking more blood from the Parisian burlesque dancers than he should have.
They’d been twins. Redheaded, curvy twins.
Vik was weak before redheads and twins.
He also felt a little light-headed, which meant he’d definitely taken too much. A vamp on too much blood was like a man who had overimbibed on alcohol.
Still, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. The dancers had offered more than their blood and Vik needed the release. He’d been too stressed lately, but after months of no word, he was finally starting to relax.
When he’d returned to his home in Oslo to find fifteen piles of ash instead of a dead Conall MacLennan and Thea Quinn, Vik had known he’d chosen the wrong side. He thought by choosing Eirik he was choosing to side with the most powerful being, the one who mattered. Yet he’d underestimated Thea.
Horrified, knowing Conall well enough to realize the werewolf would want what he considered justice for the betrayal, Vik left his Oslo home with a heavy heart. He’d taken his research with him, all but the rare edition of Jerrik’s journal, which had been missing from his apartment. Guessing Thea had taken it, Vik had to just deal with the loss. If that woman could kill the oldest vampire in the world, then he certainly would not mess with her over a book. No matter how special that book was. Or how expensive it had been.
However, Vik’s contacts had told him Thea was no longer fae. Apparently, Conall had bitten her, and she’d turned into a werewolf. They were happily mated, living in Conall’s home in Loch Torridon. It had been six months since the incident in Vik’s apartment and no word that the MacLennans were coming for him.
If he wasn’t enjoying his time in Paris so much, Vik would head back to Oslo. Soon. But there were still plenty of burlesque dancers to meet.
Whistling to himself, the vampire slowly made his way to the penthouse at the top of the prewar building. What it lacked in Nordic simplicity, it made up for in style and views. Plus, he’d put impressive floor-to-ceiling bookshelves in the high-ceilinged property. He required a ladder to reach the top shelves. It was wonderful.
Letting himself into his temporary home, Vik swayed against the wall and cursed under his breath. “Definitely too much blood,” he muttered. “Greedy, greedy.”
Stumbling down the hallway, he threw his keys in the bowl on the sideboard and wandered into the dark sitting room. The pressure in the air hit him as he fumbled for the light switch, but he was too drunk on blood to process its meaning.
The bulbs from the chandelier illuminated the room—and the two alphas sitting casually on his couch.
Fear ripped through him.
Oh fuck!
“Hello, Vik.”
He whirled around, diving toward the hallway when agonizing pain ripped through his right calf and he sprawled to the hardwood floor on a cry. Whipping his head around, he hissed at the sight of the wooden stake lodged through his lower leg. A feeling akin to flames licking his leg swam up his limb, and he fumbled to pull the damn thing out.
As he did, the hallway light came on and a shadow fell over him.
Vik looked up in horror.
Beautiful Thea MacLennan stood over him, Conall at her back. Her mate crossed his arms over his chest and his expression veered between boredom and menace.
Fuck.
Oh well. Two hundred plus years was more than most people got to live.
Thea stepped over him, so he laid trapped beneath her. She rested her hands on her lovely hips as she cocked her head, studying him. Vik’s heart raced sickeningly fast.
Her lips spread into a wolfish, predatory grin. “Did you miss us?”
The survivor in him shot toward the exit using his vampire speed but as he reached it, he felt a hand curl around the back of his neck, jerking him out of vamp speed. The owner of that hand slammed his face into the door. Befuddled, Vik blinked against the sting in his nose, feeling blood trickle down to his lip. He turned to look at Thea.
She was a werewolf now so how could she move that fast?
As if she’d read the thought in his eyes, Thea narrowed her eyes. “I’m faster than the average wolf. There’s no point running.”
Defeated, Vik glanced over Thea’s shoulder and watched Conall stroll down the hallway toward them. The sight of the six foot six werewolf caused Vik’s to almost piss himself. When he’d first met the alpha, Vik had been eager to make friends. Vik liked to have powerful people in his pocket, and Conall was the most powerful alpha he’d ever met.
Vik studied Thea, somewhat astonished.