“Stop,” Viktor snapped, aware he’d awakened her desire to be bitten.
“Soon after I landed in Miami, an anonymous donor contacted me. I agreed to meet them. Someone handed me the portfolio with the information…but he was merely a courier. I signed off on the paperwork.”
“And you didn’t find that strange?” he asked.
“Not really. As I’ve told Viktor, owners sometimes want to remain anonymous. Sometimes the owners of art,” she glanced to Viktor, “they don’t want people to know their identity.”
“So, you go to the club and she’s not there?”
“First, I stopped by her apartment. It was empty. Looked trashed.”
“It wasn’t locked?” he asked.
“Now that I think of it, no, it wasn’t. The door was closed but it was unlocked. I thought maybe she’d moved. I went back to my hotel, and then decided to go look for her.”
“You didn’t tell the police?” Greyson asked.
“Eventually I did, but I imagine many people go missing in Miami. Teagan doesn’t have any family, so it’s not like anyone is going to press them to look for her.”
“True.” Greyson nodded.
“When I got back to San Diego, the painting was already at the museum. I really haven’t had a chance to process it properly. Sister Plautilla Nelli was mostly known for large pieces, but it’s been rumored she also did smaller ones.”
“Is the painting still in San Diego?” he asked.
“No. I have it here,” she told him.
“I’d gone to San Diego to check on Dr. LaFleur,” Viktor explained.
“That’s one way of describing what I saw earlier.” Greyson laughed.
Viktor continued, ignoring his brother. “I’d gone to an event the museum was holding. A charity event.”
“He’d donated a Monet,” Waverly told him.
“Quite the flex,” Greyson teased.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Viktor replied, his tone curt. “All you need to know is that I went there to check on Waverly.”
“There was a man with a gun. He shot me,” Waverly whispered, her voice shaken.
“I took care of it.” Viktor and Greyson exchanged a look of understanding. “Then I took Waverly to my place in Miami.”
“He healed me,” she managed with a deep breath.
“Did he now?” Greyson raised a questioning eyebrow at him with a knowing smile. “I’m sure he enjoyed the taste.”
“He doesn’t drink from me,” she stated flatly, her eyes on Viktor.
She’d called his name, whispering the words. Bite me. But he wanted her certain. Surer than anything in her life. Because he suspected she belonged to him. And once he bit her, he’d never be able to give her up. If they bonded, he knew more than anyone of the sacrifice that came with bonding to another. She’d not only need to accept him, his existence as vampire but his thirst, his immortality. And her own.
The sound of his brother laughing broke his contemplation.
“I see how it is,” Greyson said.
“You see nothing,” Viktor countered.
Greyson gave a long pause, staring at his brother and then switched the subject. “Are the police involved?”
“Yes, they are aware of Teagan’s disappearance. Waverly reported her missing to the police, but they likely won’t investigate for long. She has no family. No one is pressing to find her.”
“I am,” Waverly said, determination in her voice. “She had issues. But she didn’t deserve what happened to her.”
“We need you to look at the painting.” Viktor pinned him with a stare.
“First glance, it appears authentic, but I didn’t get a chance to complete my evaluation,” Waverly said. “I can’t be sure.”
“The nun created many pieces of art. Had trained others to do so as well. But her artwork is rare. That being said, new pieces of art are discovered all the time. It’s not unheard of.” Greyson looked to Viktor as he popped a piece of cheese in his mouth, chewing while he spoke. “Where do you keep the wine?”
“White or red?” Viktor attempted to be polite.
“White? Blah. It looks like piss. Tastes like it too. A hearty glass of red will do.”
“I’ll get it in a minute. There are a few other things you should know.” Viktor continued explaining the situation. “We returned to San Diego and stopped off at Waverly’s apartment.”
“Someone left a satanic message in my bedroom,” she told him.
“I suspect it was done by a human. There was stale human blood on the floor. They’d thrown in a goat head for good measure.”
“Hmm.” Greyson shrugged; his face grimaced in consternation. “The plot thickens.”
“And then we went to meet with the detective at the museum…she said the shooter had a picture of me in his pocket.” Waverly fought tears but remained calm.
“Don’t cry, lass. We’ll get you set right. I promise,” Greyson assured her, his tone softening.
Viktor noted his brother’s change in demeanor. The gruff vampire had always had a soft spot for humans, much more so than he ever had. Hard as granite on the outside, his brother had a soft jelly center.
“The detective appeared perfectly normal just minutes before. Then she turned like a dog with rabies. My guess is possession,” Viktor said.
“An oldie but a goodie.” Greyson nodded.
Viktor crossed to the temperature-controlled wine cabinet and selected a bottle. He made short work of opening it and retrieved three glasses. As he poured, he caught sight of Waverly staring at him. She knew he didn’t indulge but he’d already broken his own rules. He inwardly laughed. One more broken rule seemed in order.
Viktor handed a glass to Waverly and slid one in front of his brother. They both watched in interest as Viktor reached for his wine.
“You’re joining us?” Greyson cracked a wise smile and looked to Waverly. “Perhaps leopards do change their spots?”
“Cheers.” Tones of blackcurrant danced over his tongue, and he smiled at Waverly.
“Ah, I get what’s going on,” Greyson grumbled and nodded to Waverly. “Well, I knew it’d happen someday.”
“Not now,” Viktor told him.
“I’m going to enjoy this.” Greyson winked at Waverly and took a sip of his wine.
“Let’s have a look at the painting, then we can go to—” Viktor began.
“Hold the train, brother. I told Quint I’d come help you with a painting. Look at art. I said nothing about going on a scavenger hunt. And what are we looking for? A secret, bumfuck human society that wants to play vampire? Nope, I’m good. And you know what? I sure as shit don’t want anything to do with demons.”
“You’re afraid of a little demon?” Viktor scoffed.
“You know I don’t like demons. I don’t do stupid shit like you do. Shit like going into Hell. Sticking your neck out for alphas and playing with packs of dogs. No. I’m not you. I don’t need or want demons in my life.”
Viktor shook his head. “Stop lying. You know damn well you’d do whatever you needed to do to save a friend.”