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He swallowed. “I sought knowledge I wasn’t supposed to have.”

“A pattern of behavior for you, it seems.”

He said nothing, but denial swam in his eyes. Perhaps being trapped in the privy on a feast night was punishment enough for his sins.

“A word of advice, Jordan,” I said, and his eyes widened at my use of his name. “Some stones are best left unturned. Those who insist on digging often end up disliking what they find.”

With a nod, I headed toward the hall. I was halfway across the courtyard when his voice stopped me again.

“Your family estate.”

I turned. “What of it?”

Dawn was fast approaching, and the courtyard was flooded with purple light. He’d stepped away from the wall, and his blue eyes burned again. “Lar Keiren borders Eldenvalla. Just like Wesyfedd.”

I wasn’t sure whether to warn him or tell him to fuck off. In the end, I settled for neither as I left the courtyard. I had better things to do than stop some snot-nosed ex-brother from Wesyfedd from being a fool. But as I made my way through the palace, I couldn’t stop his words from repeating in my head. Lar Keiren borders Eldenvalla. That part wasn’t what stuck out. Of course I knew my family estate bordered the dead elven kingdom.

No, it was what Jordan hadn’t said that I couldn’t stop thinking about. Just one other vampire estate sat that close to the border. It was insignificant. Half ruined. Unremarkable except for one thing…

It was Lar Satha. The ancestral home of Given of Sithistra.

Chapter Ten

LAURENT

I didn’t sense Varick until he wanted me to.

By the time I roused from the light sleep I’d slipped into, I knew he’d been in my room for a while. I lifted my head and saw him in a chair in the corner. He didn’t just take up space. He dominated it. Purple light from the windows spilled over him, gilding his hair and catching in the blond scruff on his jaw. He wore his boots and pants but he’d removed his jacket. His soft white shirt was open, exposing his chest and abs. He wasn’t wearing any weapons. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

I sat up, and the sheet fell to my lap. I was naked, as I always was when I slept. I drank in the sight of him and smiled. “Took you long enough.”

He gave a soft, noncommittal grunt.

“You’ve been drinking.” The scent of blood-wine clung to him.

“Never enough to get me drunk.”

It was true—and a strength he sometimes lamented. Vampires of the warrior class burned through alcohol—and poisons—quickly. He could have probably consumed every pitcher of wine at the feast and barely felt it.

“Did you want to get drunk tonight?” I asked.

No answer. He just sprawled in his chair, his long legs spread and his thick arms folded. But his gaze took a slow journey down my bare chest.

Heat licked through me. “I didn’t think you were coming to bed.” He had his own room but he never used it when he was at court. I kept the servants’ pockets full, and they kept their mouths shut—and their heads attached to their necks. A winning arrangement all around.

His eyes continued their lazy path, moving over my hips and down my leg, which stuck out from under the sheet. He rubbed his fingers over his mouth.

I flung the sheet away and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

“No.”

The command was quiet, but it stopped me as swiftly as a shout. My dick, which had been at half-mast since I became aware of his presence, swelled.

His gaze went to it—and stayed there. The gold irises glowed just a bit in the predawn light.

I gave myself a leisurely stroke. When he didn’t order me to stop, I gave myself another. Perched on the edge of the mattress, I eased my thighs apart. I pulled one leg up and rested my heel on the featherbed. And then I continued working my dick with a slow, steady fist. I smoothed my other hand down my abs and cupped my balls.

“You didn’t bring her here,” he said, his focus on my slit, which was shiny with moisture.