They would come in dreams, seeping into his consciousness. “I hope so.” Mirceo’s mind had never been clear and cold anyway. “I want to learn anything I can about my mate.”
“What’s your strategy to win him over?” An expert on martial tactics, Mina often viewed life through that lens.
“Play on his jealousy? Remind him how much fun we had together?” Caspion—a hunter—loved to collect bounties; perhaps he and Mirceo could bond over that interest.
“Do you have Uncle Trey’s scry crystal?”
Mirceo reached into his coat pocket, knuckles brushing the talisman. “I used it last night.” Trehan had regretted his rage against Caspion so much that he’d offered Mirceo the use of the priceless crystal.
Though Mirceo could locate Caspion anywhere in the worlds, he already had a good idea where the demon, a creature of habit, would be tonight.
Mina said, “I still can’t believe you confided your mate’s identity to Uncle Trey.”
For centuries, backbiting conflict had plagued the Dacian royals. Mirceo and Mina’s parents had been casualties. Now peace reigned—yet another change brought about by Lothaire. “It’s nice not to continually expect a sword in the back,” Mirceo said, an understatement. His personality had been shaped by paranoia.
Once that had faded, hedonism had been a welcome alternative.
He and Mina each fell into their own thoughts, strolling along in easy companionship. He raised his face to the diamond-filtered sunlight. Vampire paradise. All it lacked was Caspion.
Out of the corner of his eye, Mirceo saw Mina worry her bottom lip with a fang. His gaze locked on her face. “What’s on your mind, sister?”
Her cheeks flushed. “You can always tell when aught is amiss with me.”
Because he’d raised her from the time he was fifteen. “Go on.”
“Do you know that I’ve never spoken to a strange male before?” As if this were a bad thing for a princess? “Everyone who comes into contact with me is vetted, then introduced. As Caspion was.”
Mirceo slept with strangers every night. Or, rather, he had in the past. “So?”
“Uncle Lothaire spoke again about sending me outside of the kingdom.”
The king considered her too innocent. Granted, Mirceo had sheltered her, possibly too much. But to dispatch Mina—who’d never seen a car or a skyscraper—outside the realm was ludicrous.
“I’m half terrified, half thrilled about the prospect,” Mina said, her blue eyes alight.
Mirceo shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. Do you forget that a deadly plague still spreads in the otherlands? There’s a reason no vampiresses exist out there.” The plague struck females especially hard.
“But if I remain in my mist, I can’t be touched by it,” Mina pointed out. “I would go out and secretly investigate, as you and the others always do. Forever to observe, never to engage.”
Mirceo had broken that rule more times than he’d followed it. “Absolutely not.”
“But Uncle Lothaire says it’s time for us to open our borders and interact with other Loreans.”
Among other radical changes, the mad king had relaxed all travel restrictions. He even planned to lift the veil of Dacian secrecy, bringing the kingdom out of hiding.
“This is my final word on the subject, sister. I will speak with Lothaire.” Mirceo didn’t relish the idea. Though the Dacianos had brought the rightful heir into the realm to rule, the three-millennia-old Enemy of Old had proven to be a handful. “Somehow I will make him see reason. Or I’ll prevail upon our queen if necessary.” Lothaire’s vampire mate, Elizabeth, was a former human, a tough-as-nails mountain girl he’d turned immortal.
It hadn’t been so long ago when she’d nearly decapitated Lothaire during one of their fights—which, knowing Lothaire, had been a justified response. Once he’d healed, the king had cut out his own heart and mailed it to her as a kiss-off. She’d severed her middle finger and mailed it back in salutations.
With his red eyes merry, the Enemy of Old had once summed up their courtship: “There was drama.”
If those two could get past their matehood issues, surely Mirceo and Caspion could. He told Mina, “Elizabeth will back me on this.”
Lothaire worshipped his “hellbilly” queen, and her influence over him was substantial. Mirceo had seen them together just this morning in one of the castle’s shadowy nooks. Lothaire had stroked Elizabeth’s mink-brown hair behind her ear as he’d gazed into her eyes. “You are everything,” he’d said simply.
She’d sighed, “I’m sweet on you too, Leo.”
Mina stopped in the street. “Brother, please just consider the possibility.” Her eyes glinted. “I feel like . . . like I’m slowly dying down here.”
“As opposed to quickly dying out there?” At the thought of losing her, his lungs seemed to contract. I couldn’t survive it. He just prevented himself from digging his black claws into his chest.
He had adored his mother and father. Though they’d been formidable immortals in their prime, they’d perished easily enough.
Mirceo would lock Mina in the dungeon before he lost another loved one. He pinned her gaze. “Mark my words, Kosmina Daciano, you will not be leaving this kingdom for centuries to come. . . .”
TEN
New Rome Pleasure Palace
“Which female would you like, sir?” the palace purveyor, a vampire/fey halfling, asked Cas. “All of them are available, except for the two on the settee.” He gestured toward a pair of busty, redheaded nymphs. Just Mirceo’s type.
Stop thinking about him.
Cas had tried to keep busy today, checking on the apprenticeships he’d set up before he’d left for Poly. Now he was able to fund as many as he liked, benefitting even more pups in Abaddon.
For some reason, he’d never told Mirceo about working with those foundlings.
Stop. Thinking. About. Him. Easier said than done; Cas had first met the vampire in this very place, a usual haunt of Cas’s when he’d been in his twenties—mere months ago on this plane.
He gazed over the line of remaining females. Demonesses, succubae, nymphs . . . He finally had the finances to pay for his shadow life, yet all he could think about was Mirceo’s promise to make him ejaculate till his balls pled for mercy.
And just like that, Cas’s shaft stirred. All day, he’d wondered how Mirceo would find him. A blooded vampire would not take separation from his . . . fated one lightly.
Cas still couldn’t believe he’d blooded his former friend. Or that the vampire had bitten him! Now the arrogant prince could dream his memories. Every demeaning one.
Last night, Cas had peered in the mirror at the healing bite on his neck, tracing it with a sick captivation. In a way, Mirceo had marked him, which had alternately infuriated and aroused Cas.
He’d stroked off repeatedly, gritting his teeth against the pleasure that prick had forced on him. Focus, Cas.
Demonesses, succubae, nymphs . . . Yet none of those smiling beauties called to him—
A familiar scent hit Cas. Mirceo was here? Chasing me again!
“Fancy meeting you here,” the vampire said as he strode into the salon. He wore even tighter leather breeches and a form-fitting white shirt that highlighted his teeth and fangs.