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Chapter One Hundred Ten

CARMINE

“Gunnar.”

In Morocco, in the riad of Buchra, King of Ibis, I had to kill the vampire Audwyn—a friend, an enemy, a threat with Koltrast blood—or lose Luna.

Though Audwyn had been welcomed in my colony, Gunnar was his king.

If the news has traveled to the Viking lord, he may be angry or insulted. He may be plotting vengeance.

King cannot fight king, but we know how to make each other’s lives difficult, and he’s winning a bid for my wife.

I have too much to lose, and this boiling rage is going to tip my hand, but I cannot control it. Every time I blink, I see his teeth on her.

Ario hands me his phone, which is now a bid-making machine.

The price for Number 6 rolls to an obscene dollar amount that doesn’t even cover a small fraction of what she’s worth.

The number increases again. We used to have paddles.

We used to know who was winning. We could make eye contact and make deals.

“I’m getting outbid twice over,” Ario says.

“How does this thing work?” I hand it back. “Bid more.”

“They won’t let me. I’m not you, capo.”

Luna steps out of the box. Like that, she’s gone. It’s too late. I feel as though that one strand of security—the knowledge that no one was touching her yet—is ripped away and I am falling into an abyss.

Gunnar has won her. All seven feet of him gets up from his table.

I cannot fight two kings tonight, but he will not touch her.

“I’ll take care of it.” I get between Gunnar and the door, holding my hand out to shake his. He was older when he was sired. Silver hair streaks his beard and crows have put their feet on the corners of his eyes, but as a vampire, he is young and his grip is strong. “King of the Blackbirds.”

“Raven.” He shakes with vigor. I peer past him at his table of yellow-haired giants. “I was told you were in New York.” He claps me on the back hard enough to topple a human man, which I am not.

“You heard from whom?”

“We will meet tomorrow night to talk about it.” He shakes my shoulder, then turns. He’s on his way to Luna. I will not allow it.

I call out to him, “It was my great sorrow to send Audwyn back to the shadows.”

He turns back and leans down to meet my eyes. “Was it? You broke his heart, cast him out, then murdered him.”

“No one could ever love him enough.”

A smirk twitches one side of his mouth. “Like I told you when you took him in. He’s a handful.”

“I thought my hands were big enough.” I hold up my fist, with the ring and the scars across the knuckles—the last vestiges of my human marriage—then open my hand and whisper, “Charles wants five rings.”

He laughs as if I told the perfect joke. “Impossible.”

“You weren’t called here to exact a price for your kin. The bat king doesn’t do favors.”

“How does he get the blood?”

“The old-fashioned way.”

“You’re showing your age too soon.” He shakes his head. “That’s a shame.”

He starts out again. If I must fight him and give up on Charles for tonight, then fine. But my wits will land the first blow.

I follow him into a hall with numbered doors. She must be behind number 6.

But a short man in a black fleece with 5C embroidered on the left chest is waving Gunnar over to number 9. He’s in thrall and in front of the wrong door, but I still want to punch him in the face for being a part of whatever’s happening.

“Gunnar Montombra, this way.” The short guy smiles with his hand on the knob.

Is Gunnar being led into the wrong room? Or did she get moved? I have one shot to never find out.

“The Bourbon fuck brought you to New York because I was here,” I say. “If you wanted to talk, you would have called me yourself. But he’s sitting in the portrait room, right down that hall, thinking he just made you his bitch.”

My plan is to make Gunnar angry at Charles… and to make that anger as immediate as mine.

But the King of Koltrast is not quick to anger.

“I will take your number so you can calm down.” He smiles and takes out his phone, where the bid confirmation is already on the screen. It clearly says he won number six, then he swipes away. “We will discuss reparations for Audwyn tomorrow, when I’m full on this pretty little cunt’s blood.”

I look away so he doesn’t see the raw rage.

Then I hear her on the other side of door 6. She’s singing so softly only the vampires will hear it, but only I know what it means.

“ Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you…”

“You’re this way, sir,” 5C man says, pointing at room 9.

The Viking is not being taken to Luna. He was never going to her. Charles made sure of it.

“Gunnar,” I say. “Wait.”

I like Gunnar for the same reasons I liked Audwyn.

Shadow vampires have the sunniest dispositions, even before they tear off your head.

I don’t want to meet him tomorrow to discuss Audwyn.

I don’t want to pay him any reparation for winning a fight I was forced into.

But I don’t want him to lose his ring or his life.

“ Happy birthday, dear whoever. ”

“Hold on.” Gunnar taps. “There’s a place to just send my number to you.”

“Don’t go in that room,” I whisper.

“So clever, these things.” Ignoring my warning, he smiles and puts down his phone. “It’s done.”

My pocket buzzes. Maybe that means I have his number. It’s not going to matter.

“It’s a trick.” I grab his arm. I can’t tell if he believes me or he thinks I’m crazy.

“You need a doctor, Raven,” he says, not unkindly. Gunnar will never believe he can be tricked or hurt, because he has been chosen. He’s immortal and the rings are infallible.

“ Happy birthday to you .”

The song is over. I cannot risk her life for his. I let go of his arm. He gives me one last look of concern before letting himself be taken to room number 9.

I cannot allow myself to feel anything about him.

There is only Luna.