“And your own,” Alasdair murmured. Then he looked into Eton’s troubled eyes, which were now focused on him.
“You are right. It will also ensure my own survival. That may be selfish, but do not deny you wouldn’t do the same.” Eton stood to his full height and addressed the two Ancients still facing off against one another. “If you two are quite done here, perhaps you could help me save Thanos so we can then go and find Isadora. It’s clear this war has begun, and we need to be on each other’s side, not going at one another’s throats like animals.”
Alasdair raised his eyes as Vasilios turned and looked down at him. No words were said out loud, but he heard inside his mind, Where is your yielding?
Alasdair didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. Vasilios’s expression already told him that he knew.
Leonidas Chapel didn’t know it yet, but when he woke, he would be a dead man walking.
1902—London, England
LEO FOLLOWED ALASDAIR as he tracked the duke out of the room. When he reached the far end of the maid’s hall, the duke glanced over his shoulder to make sure Alasdair was there—and he was.
Leo was right beside him, matching him step for step as he strode after the man. It was supremely odd to be next to someone who was completely unaware of his existence. But that was exactly what was happening. He was in Alasdair’s past, watching him like a moviegoer who’d bought tickets to a show.
The duke opened a door on the left, and when he slipped through, a growl rumbled from the male beside him.
Damn, even in a fucking hallucination Alasdair is turning me on. That animal side of him, the side that was unlike anything he’d ever known, was both mystifying and tantalizing.
When they reached the door the duke had exited, Alasdair pushed it open and they both stepped out into the night air. The sky was jet black, and the air was cool. A pungent smell was being blown over, probably from the river in the far distance. They were on some kind of estate, standing in the shadows on the side of the main house.
Alasdair lifted his chin and closed his eyes. He was sniffing the air, searching for the man, and then he spun to the right.
Scent caught, Leo thought as he followed, his palms starting to sweat.
He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. It wasn’t like he was a part of this world, and Alasdair wasn’t a threat to him. But he was fascinated with what was about to happen—and dreading it.
As they made their way down the side of the house, he was surprised that no sound could be heard but the faint rush of water. They were walking over gravel, but his feet were making no sound, and Alasdair seemed to be gliding over it.
Those damn hunter moves of his. That stealth. It always helped with the surprise attack.
When they reached the end of the path, they stopped and Alasdair looked down the side of the house. Leo stepped around the corner, not worried in the least since he’d not been detected—and there he was.
The duke was leaning up against the side of the wall, one of his feet propped against the brick. After taking a draw from the cigar in his mouth, he blew the smoke out, and it curled up past his face before disappearing into the sky.
That low purr of Alasdair’s vibrated through the air again, and Leo couldn’t help himself from turning to look at the male beside him.
Alasdair was truly a sight to see.
His long hair was pushed back behind his ears, so Leo could see the strong line of his jaw and the arrogant tilt of his chin. The tip of his tongue came out to touch the corner of his lip, and when they parted slightly, his fangs descended.
Fuck me, Leo thought as a rush of air left him. That mouth had been on his earlier, finally devouring his in a way he’d only imagined, and he wanted it back. He reached out to touch Alasdair’s arm, needing his attention, even if it was the hunting, stalking kind, to be on him. But when he laid his hand on the sleeve of Alasdair’s jacket, he felt nothing, and neither did the vampire. He was one hundred percent focused on his prey, and his jaw began to twitch as though he were holding himself back.
Do it, Leo thought out of nowhere. It was clear Alasdair wanted this man, and suddenly, he wanted to see him take him. Do it.
As if he’d heard him, a whoosh of air ruffled his hair and Alasdair was over and in front of the duke in a flash—and Leo was quick to follow.
Present Day—Elias’s Office
ELIAS COULDN’T TEAR his eyes away from the woman—no, the female—bound to his chair. She looked terrible, which was hard to imagine of the Isadora he was accustomed to. This was a woman who’d captured his attention the first instant he’d seen her.
But that was before. Before his life had changed. And what he was seeing now was blowing his fucking mind.
Isadora was a vampire.Is, he corrected himself. She is a fucking vampire, and not just any vampire—she is the one.
“Although I’m flattered, I’m hardly thinking of you in the same light, Elias. But you needn’t look so startled. I think, if anyone should be appalled at all of this, it should be me. After all, I’m over two thousand years old and you managed to overpower me. How did you do that, by the way? Or are we going to sit here forever in saturnine silence?”
Elias ignored that she’d read his mind and instead replied, “I’m still digesting the idea that I was created to eliminate a mistake. And that mistake was you.”
“Excuse me. So, I’m a mistake?” Isadora asked, one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows arching. “I don’t seem to recall you thinking that when you would worship me on your knees for hours at a time. So why not cut the bullshit and tell me who sent you, Elias.”
Their eyes remained locked, and he caught a flicker of fear in their dark depths. Then he replied, “Someone more powerful than you.”
1902—London, England
ALASDAIR HAD THE man cornered before Leo could blink. So he jogged after him and moved up beside them to get a front-row seat to what was about to happen.
Although he knew Alasdair fed, likely on other humans, Leo had never seen him do it. Well, except for the image he’d once pushed into Leo’s mind that one time. But this…
This felt totally different.
Leo’s adrenaline pumped through him, and he wasn’t sure what exactly was driving him to feel the way he was.
The sensual way Alasdair stroked the back of his fingers down the man’s cheek? Or the way the man straightened against the brick wall, allowing Alasdair to move in closer?