My brain raced as I considered my next move.
Four floors were barely long enough to scrape a plan together.
Turning right out of the elevator, I dragged my feet to the very end of the hall, scowling at the double doors to Kyros’s private office.
I barged in—he could both hear and feel me coming.
Shoot. Just knowing I’d be in his company made my fingers tingle. My breath came fast, my body betraying me, and betraying my dignity at the same time. I couldn’t even remember all the times Kyros had lied or hurt me at this stage.
Saved and protected me.
Shouted.
Held me in his arms.
Intimidated.
Held himself back.
He sat in his office chair. “Basilia. How are you faring?”
“Mr Sundulus,” I replied in a grave voice. “Thank you. I’ve been better.”
Kyros cut off his focus on the three screens before him and shifted his gaze to me. “That’s not my last name.”
Oh. “It’s not?”
“My last name is Smith.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re kidding—”
He flashed his teeth.
“—you are kidding.” I couldn’t stop the surprised laughter from breaking free. “That would be hilarious though.”
“Atagio,” Kyros said, switching off the monitors.
Kyros Atagio.
I hummed, unsure what to make of what sounded very like a get to know each other conversation.
He stretched to his full height, and my mouth dried as I took in his suit-clad specimen of a body. Someone needed to freeze that shit so the future could enjoy the view. I wanted his body hovering over me. Lying beneath me. Crushing me against a wall.
His voice jolted me to the present. “Congratulations on securing 9C Joker. That house has eluded us for a long time. Unsure why. It’s barely remaining upright.”
The house hadn’t eluded them. The people owning the house had.
The vampire prince flipped back the password panel and jabbed in his long-ass code.
I ambled to the entrance of his lair, my thoughts on the avalanche of other issues between us. “Memories.”
Kyros cut me a look. “What?”
“Memories are why people can’t let go. Money can’t buy everything.”
He studied my face, pressing a warm hand against the small of my back to direct me up the stairs. I let it stay there, desperate for the contact and hating myself for it.
“Money can buy most things,” he answered.
For a Vissimo, perhaps. Vampires existed on the brink of death. Their priorities—surviving, winning, protecting, and ensuring their bloodline grew, those things weren’t always important to humans because we weren’t constantly primed for a battle. Ours was a slower, less intense existence. Things that Vissimo accepted without batting an eyelash, I struggled to come to terms with or accept without a moral fight. I wouldn’t have said their values were unethical or even immoral per se. Just that their values were streamlined and gave the appearance of ruthlessness. If humans were a tree branch teeming with leaves, Vissimo were that same branch whittled to a spear.
“Lower door,” Kyros murmured.
As soon as the door clicked shut at our backs, he halted me on the stairs. “Who is it?”
Dang it.
“Inconclusive. I laid a pretty good trap, but the results were too vague to be sure. I won’t give you a name without being certain.”
His green eyes flared. “You’re lying.”
Yep.
I climbed the last few steps and pushed the top door open. “That’s all I’ve got for you right now.”
“You said you’d have the name for me in a week,” he spoke at my back.
The hairs on my neck lifted. Ugh, I hated walking in front of him. Gave me the heebie-jeebies. “I still have a couple of days.”
“One.”
As soon as I passed the bed, I pivoted to face him. The extra tension dissipated.
Thank fuck. We didn’t need any help in that department.
Kyros strode straight to the kitchenette and opened the fridge, and I jolted, staring.
Laurel’s note in my pack was like a leaden weight. I thought she meant check Fernando’s fridge. Which hadn’t made any sense because he didn’t have one—then I’d decided she was referring to a communal Indebted fridge.
She wasn’t.
Laurel meant Kyros’s fridge.
He poured blood into a glass and chucked the bag in the bin.
“This bothers you?” he asked, meeting my gaze.
Blinking, I diverted my attention to the sofa. “No. I just pretend it’s shiraz and you enjoy wine out of bags.”
“I see.” His amusement tickled me through the bond.
I perched on his bed, pushing up my glasses. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?”
Meadow-green eyes riveted on my face as Kyros ran his tongue over his teeth. “We’re still on the same subject. Tell me who the spy is. You were nearly killed.”
“Forget me, Kyros, five Indebted died,” I reprimanded him. “Twelve if you include those from Clan Fyrlia.”
“This person needs to answer for their crimes, Basilia.”
I set my jaw. “They will. Once I confirm their guilt.”
“You’re protecting the Indebted,” he said over the rim of his glass. He took a sip, and I watched his throat work as he swallowed.
A man drinking blood shouldn’t turn me on, but it did. To the point of pain. I clenched my thighs together, my voice breathless. “That’s an assumption.”
“A correct assumption. An educated assumption. Indebted are often the culprits being that their motive is strongest.”
My brows slammed together. “No wonder with how they’re treated.”
“Or are they treated that way because they’re often the spies?” he challenged.
He took another sip, savouring it like I savoured a strawberry mojito.
I needed a strawberry mojito to get through this. Or five.
“You’re thirsty?” Kyros’s eyes glinted. “What for?”
“Not your blood, I can tell you that.”
A growl filled the space between us.
I sighed. “I didn’t mean it as an insult, fang man. I’ll just grab a wat—”
“I’ll get it,” he interrupted, at the fridge before I’d budged at all.
… Shit.
Laurel was onto something huge.
Kyros placed the water on the bedside table beside me and retreated to the circle sofa, kicking off his shoes and loosening his tie.
“I called you because we need to talk,” he said. “No, not talk. You deserve an explanation for how things have been between us since the third thrall. I wasn’t in a position to give it to you until now.”
He was going to what?
My ears pricked up. “You’re going to offer information to me out of the goodness of your heart?”
Is hell freezing over?
“You’re my true mate. That is why I’m offering an explanation.” He knocked back the rest of his liquid meal and set the glass on the armrest.
I scoffed. “You can’t seriously believe that true mate garbage.”
Sadness. Fear. Anger.
Look at me picking out his emotions like a pro.