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“Why do you want the throne so badly? You must have a reason if you’re willing to stoop to kidnapping.”

“To fix things.”

“That’s what Cassian said, too.”

Jameson shoots me a look. “Cassian is half the problem.”

“Why didn’t you pardon Alfred?”

“Because it looks better for me if I allow my son to pay for his mistakes.”

“But wasn’t he working for you?”

“Yes, but no one needs to know that.”

I slide my eyes over him, having some trouble connecting the two vampires. He looks like he could be Alfred’s brother.

“So, tell me the truth—are you really going to kill me?”

“Only if your husband refuses to cooperate.”

“So as long as he formally removes Cassian’s name from the nominations, you swear you’ll release me?”

“Yes,” he sounds bored, which is good.

“But if he accepts the nomination on Cassian’s behalf, then I’m dead?”

He gives me a droll look. “I’m afraid so.”

“Will Gerald care if you kill one of his vampires?”

“I highly doubt it.”

“Because you’re working together?”

He stops, narrowing his eyes at my hands, which are currently clasped at my waist. “Why the interrogation?”

“I babble when I’m anxious, and I just want to have a solid grasp of the situation I’ve found myself in.

Surely that’s not too much to ask?” I turn my body to face him, trying to get a good angle for the camera hidden in my crossbody purse.

“So, Gerald won’t care if you kill me because you’re associates? ”

“I assure you, he will not care.” Jameson directs me down the hall.

“How did you and Gerald start working together? Did he come to you, or did you come to him?”

“I approached him.”

“And you told him that if he sabotaged Cassian’s chances of winning the throne by convincing Sophia to create rogue vampires in his line, you would support his research for the Cure-All?”

Jameson scowls at me. “You’re a regular Nancy Drew, aren’t you?”

I try to look innocent and scared. The scared part is easy. The innocent part is more challenging. “You tell me. How have I done so far?”

He studies me for several seconds, and then he barks out a scoffing laugh, looking frustrated. “You’ve done well enough.”

“There is one thing I haven’t figured out,” I say.

He opens a room door and escorts me inside. “Oh, please share.”

“Why all this scheming? You don’t think you can win the vote on your own merit?”

“My peers are easily swayed fools. They are enchanted with Cassian because he promises them a civilized lifestyle, but all he offers is prescription blood and a dozen anxiety medications to suppress our natural desires.”

“Wait.” I stop, startled by his admission. “If you become archduke, you’re going to abolish the laws against consuming human blood?”

“Yes, but there will be regulations, naturally.”

“What kind of regulations?”

“You won’t be able to attack people on the streets, if that’s what you’re asking. We need to be far more selective about the individuals we’re bringing into our fold.”

“You’re not concerned about your vampires preying on people; you just don’t want random riffraff in your vampire country club?” I’m getting agitated now. I don’t want to hear any more of his plans, but I need to get as much out of him as possible.

“I see this conversation is upsetting you.” He walks to a cabinet and opens a decanter of amber alcohol. “How about we spend the rest of our time together in silence? Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“If you won’t allow random feeding in the streets, does that mean you’re going to keep human pets as blood cows again?”

He shoots me a look, growing annoyed. “We’ll pay them fairly.”

Like that makes it okay.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says. “You’ve only been a vampire for a few weeks, and you’ve been fed Nicolau’s agenda that Cassian so adamantly supported. Let’s have this conversation again in a few hundred years.”

“Answer one more question, and I swear I’ll shut up.” I begin to sweat, knowing this one is dangerous. “You didn’t kill Etienne so you could steal his throne, did you? Human blood and selective breeding aren’t worth taking a life, surely.”

He’s going to notice something is amiss. Any minute now, he’ll realize I’ve been asking specific questions.

Slowly, Jameson turns. He swirls the brandy in his glass as he studies me and then tosses it back in one go. “Why is your heart racing?”

“Because you kidnapped me,” I snap, my voice beginning to tremble.

He sets the glass down and crosses the room. “But why is it racing now?”

“I just want to know if I’m in the room with someone willing to kill his monarch in order to fulfill his agenda.”

“The answer won’t soothe your fears.”

Say it bluntly.

I swallow, trying to wet my dry mouth. “Does that mean you killed him?”

He chuckles darkly. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

I breathe out, pretending to be relieved. “You didn’t, did you? You’d like to claim credit for it, but you can’t. So, who was it? Do you have any idea?”

“No one else had the courage to kill the fool,” he snaps, his pride wounded. “I killed Etienne, and I’d do it again. And if your husband decides you’re not worth saving and Cassian miraculously ends up on the throne, I’ll kill him, too.”

I stare at him, wide-eyed. I did it. I secured his confession—the one we weren’t sure we’d be lucky enough to get. And though I try to mask it, my triumph must show on my face…which doesn’t bode well for me.

Jameson’s eyebrows twitch, and his brow wrinkles as he studies me. Suspicious, he slowly asks, “Where’s your phone?”

I step back, sensing danger. “In my back pocket.”

“Let me see it.”

I slide it out, offering it to him, thankful I wasn’t recording our conversation with the phone, nor using the speakerphone trick that Noah is so fond of.

Jameson frowns at the cell. “Open it.”

I do as he asks, my fingers fumbling, and then hand it back.

He pokes around it, scowling, until he’s finally satisfied. Then he slides it into his own pocket. “You don’t need this while you’re here?—”

Something catches his attention, and he cuts off abruptly, focusing on my shoulder. Nervous, I lift my hand, about to touch the strap of my crossbody purse. But I catch myself before covering the tiny lens and rub my neck instead.

“What’s that?” he demands.

I look down. “What’s what?”

“That bead on your purse strap?”

Before I can answer, Jameson lunges for me. I scream as we crash into a wardrobe, fighting him as he yanks the strap over my head. As soon as the purse is in his possession, he rips the tiny lens free and gapes at the wires that pull out with it.

He lifts his gaze to mine, his face turning deep red.

We’ve caught the murderous vampire villain, and now he’s mad .