Bed and Breakfast [Bloodkin 1] (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove) (21 page)

Vane could easily imagine the picture Dante painted. But how would they be able to kill the Imperator, even if they did go there?

“At any rate, I will visit him, with the human in tow,” Dante continued. “The excuse will be bringing him an extra treat for dinner.” He gave Eli and Vane a sly look. “You know what I’m getting at, don’t you?”

“No! No way.” Vane glared at Dante, anger flowing through his every pore. He refused to risk Moss with such a foolhardy plan.

Unfortunately, the human chose this exact moment to show up. “Wait a second. Don’t decide for me. What is he talking about?”

Eli hesitated a few seconds before replying, “There is a potion…We elves crafted it, to prevent bloodkin from feeding on our blood. It is ancient, and also tasteless and odorless. Few even know about its existence, now that our two races have little contact. Basically, the person who drinks it will have his blood poisoned for a short amount of time. It doesn’t hurt the carrier. However, if a bloodkin attempts to feed, the lethal substance attacks him.”

“That’s a brilliant plan,” Moss said, excited. “Let’s do it.”

Vane moved to his human’s side and physically shook him. “Moss, you’re not an elf. You don’t know how the potion will affect you.”

“But there is no other way,” Moss shot back. “Is there?”

Dante shook his head. “Not if you want to save your friends.”

In that moment, Vane hated Dante. Moss would never refuse helping Kier. It wasn’t in his nature. Dante clearly intended to use them, and Vane made a mental note to keep a close eye on the prince. If Aran was deceitful, his son could be just like him.

“Don’t you dare double-cross us, Dante,” he said, forgoing all formality. “If anything happens to Moss, you’ll die before your father.”

Dante just smiled. “Noted.”

“One more question,” Moss piped in. “If things do go well, how will we get out of there?”

“Leave our escape to me,” Dante answered. “I’ll arrange for certain guards to be on watch tonight. Now, should we get this show on the road?”

* * * *

That evening, Moss walked by Dante’s side, doing his best to look like a mind-controlled slave. So far, things were progressing nicely. Dante provided the items needed for the potion, and Eli brewed it. Against Vane’s will, Moss drank it, and he could feel no side effects, no dizziness or shortness of breath. But the hard part would just start now. They were entering the proverbial den of the wolf, and he didn’t know if they’d get out of here alive.

Several times, he noted the guards they passed nodding at Dante. He guessed the prince had, indeed, made arrangements for their safety. Moss didn’t know what to think about this plan, but they didn’t have much choice. Without Dante’s help, they’d never manage to get Kier out, or save Vane’s brother.

The Imperator’s quarters were in the same wing as Dante’s, but the distance between the two chambers remained staggering. The walk there seemed to take forever, and every second, Moss thought they would be discovered. Surely with the number of servants running around, someone would realize two men walked behind them, hidden by a heavy glamour.

But no one stopped them. No one even blinked an eye at the sight of the prince bringing his father a pretty gift. Of course, Moss didn’t exactly enjoy being the gift in question, or being the weapon that would kill someone. But there were lives at stake here, and the potential stability of an entire realm.

Half of him hoped he wouldn’t have to go through with this after all. The other only worried about getting himself and his loved ones out of this predicament.

All too soon, they reached the Imperator’s chambers. “A present for my sire,” Dante said to the stationed guards.

The men chuckled. “I would keep the human for myself, my lord, if I were you.”

Dante shook his head and smiled. “I like to think I have a little more control than that.”

The men smirked and let them through. It would seem Dante was on good terms with the army members, a good thing if he intended a coup.

As they entered the quarters of the bloodkin ruler, Moss heard a heated discussion taking place. “Aran, what are you doing?” a man asked. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Have we?” another replied in a theatrically surprised tone. “Very well, my dear Cole. If you love me so much, prove it. Kill this elf for me. It shouldn’t be too hard. You hate him, don’t you?”

“Go ahead, Cole,” Kier’s voice said. “You know you want to.”

Urgency filled Moss. It seemed Dante had been right about one thing. The only way to save their friends would be to kill the Imperator.

They got to the Imperator’s lounge just in time to see a very bruised-looking Kier kneeling in front of a handsome man who had the same striking looks as Vane. Sitting on a divan, a beautiful bloodkin watched them with obvious amusement—the Imperator, if Moss guessed by his resemblance to Dante. In the background, several men waited, like statues, seeming completely unmoved by the unfolding drama.

“Go on,” the Imperator—Aran—said. “It’s easy. Snap his neck.”

Cole hesitated, then shook his head. “I can’t.”

Aran’s expression instantly changed. He got up, his stance screaming dangerous, predatory intent. With the Imperator so angry and his imperial guards watching every motion in the room, the situation seemed very glum indeed. Dante cleared his throat, interrupting the scene before it could escalate into violence.

“Greetings, Father. Am I interrupting something important?”

Aran turned toward them and smiled. “Not really, although I taught you better manners than to just burst in like this.”

There was an underlining reprimand, and Moss wondered if the Imperator had missed their approach. “Apologies, Sire. I didn’t think it would bother you.”

“It doesn’t.” Aran laughed. “If anything, I should be thankful. Lately, I need to watch my back all the time.”

Terror filled Moss at the Imperator’s words. Had Aran realized their plan with such ease? How?

Strikingly, Dante didn’t seem fazed by his father’s answer. “That’s why we are here, my lord,” he replied without missing a beat, “so you wouldn’t have to worry.”

Aran sat down on the divan once more. “Indeed. So to what do I owe this visit?”

Dante pushed Moss forward. “I bring a gift. Since His Majesty did not enjoy my present a fortnight ago, I decided to try again.”

“Oh, Dante. Always so thoughtful. I wish your brothers were a little more like you.”

To Moss, those words sounded genuinely affectionate, and he sensed Dante hesitate as well. So the prince did have doubts about killing his father. They couldn’t turn back now. It was too late.

Aran gestured them closer, having apparently forgotten all about Kier and Cole. Moss would’ve been pleased, but Aran’s attention now focused on him, and that made him very uncomfortable. “He is, indeed, quite a beauty,” the Imperator said. “Have you sampled him?”

Dante shook his head. “No, Sire. I did scent his blood. I believe you will find him delicious.”

In a flash, Aran pulled Moss on the divan next to him. Moss gasped, unprepared at the sudden motion. “Let’s taste him then, shall we?”

A hint of fang scraped against Moss’s neck and he shuddered in revulsion. Vane had done this so many times, and yet, with the Imperator, it felt so very different. Moss closed his eyes and forced himself to be still and not fight. It is the only way, he told himself.

Just when he thought Aran would bite him, the Imperator pushed him away. “Do you take me for a fool, Dante? I know how treason smells, and I know a wolf in sheep’s clothing when I see one.”

Confused and dazed, Moss didn’t process Aran’s words for a few seconds. When he at last did, he began to scamper away, only to be grabbed in an ironlike vise. “And this, my dear son, is one beautiful trap.”

“Father, I don’t understand what you mean,” Dante attempted.

“This toy…” Aran’s hold on Moss’s arm tightened as he spoke. “This plaything you’ve brought me is infected with that disgusting potion of the elves. Blood Freedom, I think they call it, or something equally as ridiculous. I can smell it on him.”

How? Eli had said the potion was odorless. How had Aran smelled it? “My lord, there must be some mistake. I would never…”

Aran stopped Dante’s lies with just a glance. “Then you drink his blood,” he snarled. The affection from before had completely vanished. “Prove to me he is as delicious as you say. But first, we’ll split him open, just to make sure he doesn’t carry any other surprises inside.”

Aran didn’t get to say anything else. A growl sounded from behind Dante, and then Aran flew off Moss, cast aside by an invisible force. As the glamour faded, Moss saw Vane in front of him, baring his fangs at Aran.

Immediately, the imperial guards spurred into motion, ready to take Vane on. Aran shook his head as he got up, stopping them in their tracks. “Vane Bloodmoor. What an interesting surprise. Seems you have allies still, my dear Cole. Or perhaps your brother has come for the elf?”

Nobody spoke. In these circumstances, they no longer had a chance to defeat Aran. The plan had been foolhardy to begin with.

Aran waved a hand, and a soldier immediately provided him with a goblet filled with liquid. “Tell you what,” he said. “I’m feeling merciful today. Take the elf and the human and go. It seems I have more important matters in my own house to attend to.”

This had to be a trick. Even Moss, who had very little experience with bloodkin, realized that. The reason for Aran’s sudden compassion appeared mere seconds later. “Oh, and Vane…I would say good-bye to your brother if I were you.”

* * * *

Vane felt as if he’d somehow fallen into a nightmare. He’d never agreed to Dante’s plan, especially given the risk to Moss’s safety. But Moss would not be deterred, no matter how hard Vane tried to change his mind. Orders didn’t work and the circumstances didn’t allow them too much alone time.

Vane had been faced with a choice, to risk his human’s welfare over his brother’s and best friend’s lives. He’d have chosen Moss, even with the knowledge that guilt over Kier’s death would always plague them. Moss’s stubbornness and his caring nature had stopped him from having his way.

It turned out now he’d been at least half-right. The plan had failed abysmally. Aran might be saying he’d let them go now, but Vane had no doubt the Imperator would send people to hunt them down and kill them.

And then there was Cole. In spite of the enmity between Vane and his brother, Vane never wished for Cole to die. In fact, he’d secretly wanted for them to mend their relationship, perhaps find some way to bridge the abyss between them.

Judging by Cole’s expression, the man might’ve wanted the same thing, at least to a certain extent. Cole pulled Kier up and ushered him in Vane’s direction. His dark gaze held a silent apology when he said, “Get out of here, Vane. Go on.”

Vane couldn’t do anything to save his brother. The Imperator retrieved his knife, the one weapon passed down from generation to generation in the imperial family. If Vane used blades for ceremonial purposes, Imperators did so both because of tradition and out of a certain necessity. The Imperial Blade could kill any bloodkin, regardless of their power and age.

Vane took a step forward and tried, “Your Majesty, please reconsider. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

Aran didn’t even grace him with a look. He shifted the knife in his hands, smirking. “I do love a beautiful target. Go on, Cole. Try to escape.”

Vane knew for a fact Aran was wickedly skilled with throwing knives. But Cole didn’t even attempt to move, and Aran’s expression once again twisted into disgust. “Coward.”

Aran flipped the blade in his palm, his eye on Cole’s chest. As the Imperator balanced the knife and threw it straight at Cole, several things happened at the same time. Kier reached out for Cole helplessly, crying out in pain and sorrow. Moss tried to rush forward, but Vane held both his friend and his human back. And Dante lunged toward his father and landed right between Aran and Cole. “No, don’t!”

Aran’s eyes widened, having not expected his son to try and take Cole’s defense. “Dante!” he called out.

Not even Aran could now stop the course of the events. The blade flew so fast Vane could barely even see it and stuck straight into Dante’s chest. Dante’s eyes widened, and he stared at the knife embedded in his flesh in disbelief. Seconds seemed to turn into ages, a stupor of disbelief settling over Vane and everyone else in the room. No one moved a muscle, no one even breathed. It was only when Dante crumbled into a heap to the ground that Aran broke out of his daze and rushed to his son.

He flipped Dante on his back with a gentleness that seemed out of character for the bloodkin tyrant. Dante’s embroidered shirt already bore a dark tint of red teeming from over his heart. “Father, I…”

“I know, child. I know. Don’t speak.” Aran looked at his guards and shouted, “What are you doing, standing there for? Get some help!”

Dante took his father’s hand and squeezed it. “Don’t. We both know nothing is going to help me now.” His voice sounded weak now, and Vane could barely even hear it. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t break the Covenant, and you won’t ever let anyone do so.”