With humans, it was like a form of hypnosis, getting inside their cluttered little brains and commanding them to do the most wicked things, then wiping away all memory of the act. Not that he needed to use his powers when it came to sex.
No, humans didn’t need any extra pushes to climb into his bed.
But the “charm” came in handy when feeding.
His gift worked on some vampires, but it wasn’t too often, and so many got pissy when he tried.
But beyond Ethan, Marcus undoubtedly had his hands full keeping the Ministry from ordering all their deaths. Handling the ruling body of the vampire world was certainly not something his brothers wanted him to oversee.
It wasn’t so much that the Ministry was upset with the Variks for dismantling the Black Wolf clan. That had been deserved and justified since Minerva and her flock of bastards attacked them first.
No, it was Bel’s experiments, which had finally yielded a nasty concoction that could kill vampires quickly and efficiently. Not something the ruling vampires wanted getting around.
The Ministry had never been fond of Bel’s experiments and theories. Now they were looking justified in their disapproval.
Rafe would not trade Marcus for the task of dealing with the Ministry.
But still…who in their right mind would send him as an emissary to the Arsenaults?
“You need to take this seriously. You’re a Varik. You’ve got clout within the clan.”
“First,” Rafe snapped, spinning around to face Lola again, “we are not a clan. I don’t care for people constantly making that mistake. The Variks are simply a family. Clans take in outsiders.”
“Ethan—”
“Ethan is a Varik through marriage,” Rafe quickly countered. He pushed on before Lola could distract him further. “And if we were a clan, Aiden would be the head of our clan. Not Marcus.”
Folding her arms over her ample chest, Lola raised one sculpted eyebrow at him, unmoved by his sharp tone. “And Aiden isn’t around. He rarely is. Which means Marcus is the head of the clan and you, my sweet pain in the ass, are the little prince. Suck it up.”
Rafe smiled at her wide enough to reveal his perfect white fangs. “Normally, my favorite thing, lovely Lola.”
“Whether the Variks call themselves a clan or not is a moot point. The rest of the vampire world sees you as a clan. A very closed, secretive clan. And that creates rumors. Everyone believes the Variks are a powerful and influential clan. Taking out the Black Wolf clan doesn’t help those rumors. The Variks have painted targets on their backs.”
“And we need allies,” Rafe muttered.
It was the same speech he’d heard Marcus make not two weeks earlier. And as much as he wanted to, Rafe couldn’t argue with him.
Humans weren’t the only ones who frequented his clubs. Vampires strolled in as well, and he allowed it so long as everyone played nice on his property. What happened once everyone stepped outside the club wasn’t his problem. But since the dissolution of the Black Wolf clan, there was a new tension in the air among the vampires in his clubs. He was being watched so closely now, as if they were all waiting to see what he and the rest of the Variks would do next.
The Arsenault clan was a good place to start. There wasn’t much known about them, as they tended to be even more secretive than the Variks. But they had been the one clan to volunteer assistance when Rafe, Marcus, and Winter had been captured by the Black Wolf clan.
Rafe had known at the time that the assistance wasn’t an act of benevolent altruism. No, he knew, just as Marcus has likely suspected, that the leader of the Arsenaults wanted something. Not that any of them had the tiniest guess as to what that may be.
“Have you heard anything from Winter?” Lola pressed.
Rafe hid his smirk behind his glass as he took another sip of his scotch. The burn was exquisite, warming his chest as he thought of his youngest brother. Or “Wee One” when he was feeling particularly evil. That nickname annoyed Winter to no end, and it only encouraged Rafe all the more.
Winter was the sneaky one. The collector of secrets of other clans as well. He had no idea how Winter got his intel, whether by magic or some other means, but his unique skill usually kept them pretty well in the know as to what the other clans were doing or even considering.
“Nothing specific.” Rafe wandered to the bar and put his glass down with a dull thunk. “Just that they are extra bristly.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Lola snapped. She picked up Rafe’s glass and threw back the rest of his drink.
Rafe released an annoyed sigh. That was likely her less than subtle way of telling him to stop drinking and pull his shit together. He would have preferred to stall a little bit longer. “As Winter put it, don’t poke the bear.”