• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Roth had often wondered if Reichen realized the seething contempt he’d inspired when he’d shown weak little Ilsa a gesture of kindness at a Darkhaven reception. It had been a small thing, really, a dry jacket to cover her after Roth had sent her weeping to a rain-drenched balcony when she dared to contradict him in front of his peers. He’d meant to punish her privately, but Reichen had strolled by and discovered her sitting outside by herself in the cold. Incredibly, he’d had the gall to insist she take his coat and then arranged for his driver to send her home without Roth’s permission.

Roth fumed even now just to think on it.

He’d fumed then, too, and waited for a chance to put Reichen firmly in his place. He found that chance once Claire arrived in Hamburg and caught the eye of nearly every available Breed male in the region. Reichen included. So Roth had waited and watched, and when the time was right, he’d had his men deal with Reichen. Then he threw himself into the task of helping poor, devastated Claire pick up the pieces of her shattered heart. Taking her as his mate was merely icing on an already delectable cake.

Oh, he’d had to kill Ilsa to clear the way, but it was a small inconvenience to have the satisfaction of knowing he’d made his point with Reichen and stolen the female he loved.

He couldn’t have been more stunned to learn that Reichen had reappeared in Berlin later that year. To the younger male’s credit, after what was likely a very bitter lesson learned, he stayed well away from Hamburg, and from Claire. Until the past summer, when the human whore who’d been Reichen’s latest lover began snooping around in Roth’s affairs.

He’d had no patience to deal with Reichen again, and so he’d sent a very swift, clear message to the Berlin Darkhaven where Reichen and his kin lived. Swift and clear, but not quite thorough enough, as the attack had left Reichen alive.

Not again, Roth vowed.

When he next got Andreas Reichen in his sights, the son of a bitch was going down. So much the better if he could send Claire to her death alongside him.

Pleasantly sadistic musings of just how he might accomplish those two goals were swirling in his head when the cell phone in his coat pocket went off.

“Yes, sire.”

“I trust your operation is proceeding as planned,” Dragos said, his tone practically daring Roth to disappoint him.

“The diversion is perfectly under control, sire. As I promised you it would be.”

Dragos grunted. “Keep it that way. I am nearly finished with the preparations here. Soon the new objective will be under way.”

“Very good, sire,” Roth said. “I will continue with the plan we discussed and await your further command.”

CHAPTER

Sixteen

The next morning, while Reichen stayed behind and tried not to be paranoid about danger lurking on every street corner or alleyway Claire left the house with their remaining euros and drove into town to exchange the money and pick up some food for herself and fresh clothing for both of them. Reichen had attempted to persuade her into waiting until evening when he could go with her—just in case she ran into trouble—but she brushed him off with a look and left him sitting in the big empty house by himself. He had forgotten how independent she was, and a part of him admired the fact that several decades under Roth’s thumb hadn’t stolen any of her spirit.

Still, he worried.

He knew she was safe from Roth or Dragos or any other members of the Breed so long as it was daytime and the sun would keep all of his kind locked indoors. But the protective part of him—the part of him that had yet to accept that he wasn’t still the leader of a Darkhaven, responsible for keeping his home and family safe from harm—balked at the idea of Claire walking around out there without him looking out for her. She was too precious, too vulnerable in a world filled with hidden dangers. She was a treasure worth preserving at any cost.

And she was… not his.

Damn, but it took some effort to remember that, especially after