King's Gambit (3 page)

I forgot what speaking to Marcus could be like. He had a habit of shifting the conversation back and forth, making me feel like I was on a rickety sailboat in the middle of a temperamental ocean. He did it to mess with people’s rhythm and keep them on edge. It was disorienting at best, and I was too tired to deal with any hidden agendas he may have had.

“I feel good,” I said, trying to just ride the wave. “A lot has changed while I was away. For both of us.”

He nodded curtly, working his jaw. “How was the party?”

I shrugged, trying not to think about how much his blue eyes reminded me of Alex’s. Actually, the two men looked rather similar. Same pale skin and chiseled features, same dark hair… They were almost the same height, too. When I didn’t reply right away, Marcus arched a neat brow, mirroring Alex’s expression almost perfectly.

Great, now I
really
missed Alex. And I was running through a list of ways he and Marcus could be related. I also kind of wanted to sleep with Marcus. Well, I’ve always kind of wanted to sleep with Marcus. What? Having a boyfriend didn’t mean I was suddenly blind to other men.

I’m a horrible person.

“Morgan?”

“You know I feel about those political parties. Pun–”

“Unintended,” he finished, aristocratic smile still in place. “Considering your unhealthy fondness for puns, it can be rather difficult to believe they are all unintentional. Of course, it just adds to your natural charm.”

“It’s been a few months, so I can’t tell if you’re just buttering me up, or if you’ve always been this complimentary.”

“If I was trying to ‘butter you up,’ wouldn’t I be more discreet about it?”

“If you wanted me to believe you weren’t buttering me up, wouldn’t you ask that exact question? Besides, the greatest threats are the ones that can hide in plain sight.” I shrugged. “Or something. It doesn’t really matter if you don’t tell me what you want.”

“Your company isn’t enough? We haven’t seen each other in so long, dearheart. I’ve missed you terribly.”

I ignored the giddy feelings his words brought forth. It’s been so long since I’ve had a chance to flirt with someone I actually liked. I think the last person was Tamlin, which was fifty shades of fucking illegal as hell. Marcus’ words were mostly a pretty veil to keep me compliant, however, but even knowing that didn’t change how they made me feel.

It didn’t matter, though. I was in a committed relationship.
Committed.
Also, sleeping with a powerful figure in the city I oversaw would not only be wrong, but it would also be a huge conflict of interest. Ipos’ face flashed in my mind, and I dismissed it with a shake of my head. He wasn’t considered a big player in New York, so our former friends with benefits relationship didn’t count. I looked back up at Marcus’ devastatingly handsome face. Damn it, I needed more alcohol. Or less.

“Apparently not,” he said, his expression dropping for half a second before his usual regal mask slipped back on. “It’s a shame we couldn’t have met under different circumstances. It would have been a delight to get to know you more…intimately.”

“Marcus,” I said flatly, shooing away the delightful images his words conjured. “We could go back and forth all night, but it’s late and I’m tired. And I think I drank, like, half the wine Flavius ordered for tonight.”

“I’m merely paying you a compliment, dearheart,” he said with a sexy chuckle. Could I use magic to temporarily castrate myself?

“Well, you could always get to know me now,” I said. “You’re not king anymore.”

He frowned. “You could always ask me to stop, dear. There’s no need to hit below the belt.”

“That’s why I’m here, though, isn’t it?” It was a stab in the dark, but I couldn’t think of another reason why he’d want to see me. “Flavius and his rise to power. How did he manage to boot you
and
your entire parliament out?”

A grave look overtook Marcus’ face as he leaned forward. “The rest of my people are dead. Not just my parliament – my guards, my secretary…everyone.”

I blinked a few times, scanning his face for any signs of humor. “Um…” I sighed. “In hindsight, I guess it’s not that surprising. Vampire politics–”

“Suck like that?”

“Pun intended this time,” I said. “Also, I love how you finish my sentences. It’s like we’re of one mind.”

He hummed in agreement, the tense lines on his face lessening somewhat. If I ever lost my job, I could always become a comedian. “All the more reason to put me back in power, dearheart. Before Flavius kills me. And Elise, I suppose.”

“Elise?”

“No need to be jealous, dearheart.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please–”

“Elise is,
was
, my new magical advisor. She was brought in to replace Heinrich in my parliament. I suppose Flavius didn’t think she was established enough to merit killing.” He shrugged, the action too elegant, too perfect, to be human.

“What happened to Heinrich?” I asked.

“He was killed about two weeks before Flavius made his move to overthrow me. A coincidence, I’m sure,” he drawled, looking entirely unconvinced.

“Flavius was your protégé, wasn’t he?” I asked. “You didn’t see it coming at all?”

“Blitzkrieg,” he scowled.

“So, why are you still alive?”

“I’m not, dearheart. Not clinically, at least.”

I gave him a small smile. “He’s keeping you around for your sense of humor, then?”

“He’s keeping me around because I know where all the skeletons are buried,” Marcus said, his posture relaxing as he leaned back and crossed his legs. “My connections, my political savvy…everything. Flavius isn’t foolish enough to rid himself of such a useful asset. He attempted to coerce me into telling him everything I knew all at once by promising to let me leave the city safely once I had. A lie, of course. I’ve kept him at bay by feeding him occasional pieces of information. However, I refuse to sit here and be picked apart until that impudent upstart decides to take me out. I want him gone, Morgan,” he finished, punctuating each word with the same demanding tone a Fortune 500 CEO would use in a board meeting.

“You want me to assassinate New York’s king?” I asked, trying to convey how crazy the idea was with an exaggerated raise of my brows.

“Of course not, dearheart. That would be crazy.” My telepathy was coming along nicely. “I just want to take back a few things. Once that’s done, I’ll kill him myself.”

“What sort of things?”

Marcus’ eyes narrowed as he looked away. “I’m not the only one who knows where things are buried.”

“You won’t tell me what he has,” I said dryly.

“Every great couple should have their secrets,” he said with a wink, though the weight in his eyes remained.

“I don’t see why you need me to do this. Or why I should risk pissing off Flavius, who is now one of, if not
the
, city’s biggest player.” I knew it was selfish, but there was more at stake than just helping a sort-of friend get revenge.

“There are very few people I can trust now,” he said. “There’s only you, Elise, and Khalil. Besides…” Winter blue eyes bore into my light grey ones. “You do owe me, dearheart.”

“That info I ‘owe you’ for put me out of commission for months,” I said, the memory of that ambush bringing my temper to a boil. “Over a dozen demons were waiting for me that night, Marcus.
A dozen
. Against me. Alone. And did I mention the eight vampires they had with them? I was lucky to make it out of there alive.”

“I heard a rumor concerning your mother. I knew you were looking for information on her, and because I’m oh so fond of you,” he smirked, “I decided to pass the word along. You can’t blame me for not warning you of an ambush I had no idea would be there.”

“It doesn’t count as being ‘oh so fond of me’ if you call on it as a favor,” I said, refusing to acknowledge the validity of his last statement.

“Morgan, I think we both know it’s in everyone’s best interest to have me back in power.”

I bit my lip. “…This is a vampire issue.”

His smile was pulled tight, and I had to physically push my guilt away. He was pissed, but he had to understand where I was coming from. Marcus wouldn’t take this personally.

I hoped.

“The political situation is vampiric, yes, but there’s a reason hunters partake in our galas, dearheart. Protect the innocent and all that, yes?” At my nod, he continued. “Ever since Flavius rose up – and I’m referring to before tonight’s gaudy display of power – more and more humans have been turning up dead. Bodies are washing up along the Hudson, drained of all blood and ripped up beyond recognition.”

“Why haven’t I heard anything about this?” I asked.

“Flavius has done a good job keeping it out of the public eye; my police contacts became his after the exchange,” he sneered. “But hiding a body doesn’t mean it isn’t there. You know me, Morgan, I keep all my kind’s hunting grounds regulated – no murders, no over-feeding, nothing. Sure, we get the occasional accidental death, but that’s par for the course. Flavius has been in charge a month and we already have six bodies.”

I straightened up at the number. “What the hell is he doing to allow this shit to happen?”

Hunting grounds were areas in the city where vampires could feed. The rules were simple: stick to your area, don’t drain anyone dry, and don’t kill anyone unless in self-defense. Everyone followed the rules and everyone got along fine. The hunting grounds were the king’s responsibility and Marcus handled them with a firm grip, making my job a thousand times easier. Who knew the vamps would get so wild without him? Six bodies in a month was insane.

“I can’t speak for him,” said Marcus. “Now, is this still a vampire problem?”

“Yes,” I said stubbornly, “but it’s also a hunter problem. What did you have in mind?”

“Khalil,” Marcus called. A man entered the room shortly after. “Khalil is my current right-hand man. I believe you two have already met.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you face to face,” Khalil said with a theatrical bow.

Khalil, the man who brought me here, was…well, handsome as fuck. He had features that spoke to Middle Eastern origins, high cheekbones that could have cut glass, and mischievous brown eyes that seemed to have a golden glow. His black hair was elegantly tousled and a stray curl fell in front of his eyes, further enhancing his roguish appeal. He was wearing an expensive suit – five thousand dollars, minimum – but there was something about him that made such attire feel out of place.

“Nice to finally meet you,” I said, unable to keep my eyes from running over his body. He was tall and slim, like a swimmer, and I wondered what he looked like without the suit. “Got your hair situation fixed, I see.”

“Indeed.” He ran a hand through his hair and it all fell back into place almost exactly as it had been before. I wish mine did that – I was sick of the hurricane survivor’s impression it seemed to favor. “Do you like it?”

“Very nice.” Very, very nice.
It’d look even better without clothes.
Fuck. Nope, wrong word for the situation. Incredibly wrong.

“I look forward to seeing you again soon, dearheart,” Marcus said, standing and holding his arms out.

We exchanged kisses – one on each cheek, like fancy people – before Khalil led me back to the elevator.

“So, what
is
the plan?” I asked, ignoring how much of an effect his presence was having on me. Forget winter, it felt like an Indian summer in here. Screw Alex for not being here. Screw me for being so lascivious. And screw Khalil. Literally. Why am I so awful?

“We are going to visit a friend,” Khalil said with a devilish grin, his perfect white teeth nearly blinding in contrast with his smooth, caramel skin.
Heh, caramel skin and caramel voice. I wonder if he tasted–

I sent of blast of cold through my body with such intensity that I ended up sneezing. “Will this friend be able to help?”

“Of course,” he said, grin still in place. “As long as you don’t mind getting a little bloody.”

3

Elise’s home was a dark red brownstone surrounded up and down the street by its brothers and sisters. Magic hummed through the air, telling me she wasn’t the only magic user living here. This part of the city was reserved for the supernatural upper class – those who did well enough for themselves to be able to afford the high rent. The area was quiet, and was the next best place to practice magic undisturbed outside of owning a house in the suburbs.

A small, ghostly pale boy with big grey eyes and slicked back blonde hair that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Malfoy family portrait opened the door at Khalil’s knock.

“Hello, Dorian,” said Khalil. “She’s expecting us.”

Instead of just lifting his head, Dorian rolled his eyes up to look at us, which raised his creepy, killer kid vibe by eighty. I wanted to scan him over for more information, but as if reading my mind, the boy snapped his head up in my direction before tilting it to the side. Okay, no mind touching, then. No physical touching, either. Just no.

He opened the door to let us in. As much as I’d like to say I walked through the door in a perfectly collected manner, it was all I could do to discreetly edge around the phantasmal child. Apparently I failed in my discretion, because Khalil chuckled, his shoulders shaking with the soft action as a ghost of a smile appeared on Dorian’s face. I was so unnerved it took me a few seconds to realize I’d made a pun.