As the elevator doors slid shut, Rafe turned his attention to Lola, who was staring at him with a look of boredom. “What were we talking about?”
“Your brother being bloody insane,” Lola supplied in a less-than-amused voice.
Rafe growled and picked up his replenished glass before pacing away from the bar and into the living room proper. Beyond the L-shaped leather couch and matching chairs was a wall of windows looking out on Hartford, Connecticut. It wasn’t a horrible little town. He would have preferred to be in New York or Chicago, but Bel needed to be in Connecticut for his work—not that Rafe understood it, but going down that rabbit hole with his twin only gave him a headache.
And he didn’t have time for that headache when he had this one, thanks to Marcus.
Dear older brother was demanding he meet with the head of the Arsenault clan. That had to be the single biggest mistake of Marcus’s very long life. Why would Marcus ever want Rafe anywhere near vampire politics? It was madness.
Rafe’s entire raison d’être was to feed, fuck, and party. Life didn’t need to be more complicated than that. Over the past century, he’d opened one nightclub after another across Europe and now the United States. People flocked to his clubs for the excitement and freedom. And it didn’t hurt that the nightclubs offered him the perfect feeding grounds when he wasn’t in the mood to hunt beyond his own personal domain.
And there for nearly all of it was Lola.
He watched her reflection in the black windows as she continued to stare at him from behind the bar. Without her heels, Lola stood a petite five foot four with long black hair that was currently braided down her back. She was swathed in her usual black leather with shiny silver clasps and chains.
They’d found each other in Spain so many years ago. It had started out as a playful hunting companionship with some sex here and there, but even after the sex stopped, she stuck around, moving when he did. When he started opening his nightclubs, he hired her on as a manager, bouncer, and assistant. She was good at cutting through tiresome nonsense and getting things done.
Now he couldn’t imagine life without her. She was his constant companion. His avenging shadow. And maybe his own personal bullshit detector. Other than his brothers, Lola was the only one to call him on his nonsense, which he appreciated under most circumstances.
But maybe not now.
He could see it in the frown pulling at her full, red lips. She had something to say about Marcus’s request, or maybe it was about Rafe complaining about his so-called duty.
“You need to take this seriously, Rafe,” Lola warned in her sultry, low voice.
Lovely. Her issue was with him.
“If Marcus wanted serious, then he should have asked Winter. Or even Bel. Better yet, he should be taking care of this himself,” he told her reflection.
“Yeah, the best choice would have been for Marcus to handle it, but I would imagine he’s got his hands full right now with both a fledgling and the Ministry. I really don’t see him handing either of those responsibilities over to you.”
Rafe’s lips curled a little. Lola wasn’t wrong. Ethan Cline was a recent addition to the Varik family. His dear older brother had turned him—no, that was wrong. They’d all turned Ethan less than a month ago. Making Ethan a vampire, bringing him into their little fold, had been a family endeavor. The only one who had been missing was Aiden, their own maker, but that was understandable. The death of his beloved Julianna, Rafe’s mother, was consuming him.
He violently shoved aside thoughts of Julianna and focused on young Ethan. It was more than a little surprising that stoic and stuffy Marcus had found the love of his life, a mate to accompany him through the long centuries ahead of him.
And Ethan was a good match for Marcus. For all his brother’s tedious rules and overprotectiveness, Ethan was equally playful and snarky. Even after death, the young man was full of life and laughter.
There was no denying the pang of jealousy that soured Rafe’s stomach when he saw Marcus and Ethan together. That was probably the most disturbing thing of all. Rafe had the perfect life; he gulped pleasure and companionship down each night. Always a new companion. His bed always full. Gorging himself on laughter and ecstasy at every turn. So how could he be jealous of that little shared look between Marcus and Ethan? Their secret touches and knowing smiles?
That was another line of thought he didn’t want to pursue.
The point was that Ethan was still adjusting to his fangs, hunting, feeding, and figuring out vampirism’s impact on his formerly human body. He’d yet to hear what Ethan’s special gift was, but it could still be months, if not years, before that power made itself known. It had taken Rafe months to uncover his because…well, he was just naturally charming. But there was now a little extra dose of magic to his charm when he wanted it.