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Oh yeah.

That was fun.

“Dory!” Louis-Cesare grabbed me again, blue eyes wild. “We need to get you out of here!”

“We need to get me to the consul,” I snarled, ripping off the sheet. Which was covered in blood from a wound in my side, thanks to a certain curly-haired bastard. Who was going to rue the fucking day.

“You can kill Kit later,” Louis-Cesare told me.

“I plan to!”

“And Mircea can deal with Dorina,” he continued, as I felt around for an exit wound.

Found one, lucky me. And not through anything vital. So it was just blood loss I really couldn’t afford right now that was making me feel like shit.

I ripped up the sheet and started a basic field dressing.

“Listen to me!” Louis-Cesare caught my upper arms, and shook me.

“Cut it out!”

“Then explain to me why I shouldn’t pick you up and throw you through that portal, whether you like it or not!”

I looked up. “You do and I swear—”

“Quoi?” He spread his arms, blue eyes flashing. “What are you going to do? What do you think would be worse for me than seeing you riddled with bullets?”

I stared at him, because he looked genuinely angry, which he almost never was with me. And genuinely afraid, which he wasn’t with anybody. And genuinely gorgeous, and fuck it—I’d had a hard day.

I surged up and kissed him, and for a brief second, he was into it. Before breaking away and glaring at me. And cussing inventively in French, which was never a good sign.

“Lord Mircea can deal with this!” he repeated furiously.

“Can he?” I panted, pulling the dressing tight. “You sure?”

“His specialty is the mind!”

“So is Dorina’s. And he couldn’t detect her before, when she was just a kid and used to follow him around Venice for shits and giggles. He didn’t know she was there until she said something.”

Louis-Cesare frowned. “That was a long time ago. He is more powerful now—” He caught my expression. “And do not say that she is, too!”

“Okay, I won’t say it.” I tied off the bandage and looked around for weapons. And didn’t find any. Damn it!

Fine, we’d do it the hard way.

An iron fist gripped my arm. “You are not going out there!”

“The consul is a poisonous bitch, possibly literally,” I told him. “But if she dies, the war effort descends into chaos while those other bastards fight over a successor. And they will. You know they will.”

My brilliant appeal to logic did not appear to have much effect. “What I know is that you’re in no condition to do anything about it! Neither of us is.”

I looked him over. He had a point. “So what’s your plan?”

He gestured at the portal. “That! Get out, get you to a healer, and let your father handle this. I’ve already sent him the information. He knows Dorina is a danger.”

“He’s known that for five hundred years.” I walked over to the portal, swirling in the wall. It was a powerful one; I could feel the pull from here. I looked back at him. “Where does this go, again?”

He joined me, looking relieved. “Lord Mircea’s home in Washington State.”


Tags: Karen Chance Dorina Basarab Vampires