Page 2 of Viktor’s Temptation (East Coast Territory #2)

The moon was bold tonight, spilling its silvery glow over the city like it had something to prove.

Lord Viktor Rastan, head of the Eastern Clan of vampires, leaned back in his limousine, gazing at the luminous orb with a bemused half-smile.

The idea that the moon brought out “monsters” still amused him even after all these centuries.

Humans. Sweet, naive humans. They had no idea.

If they truly understood how many monsters roamed among them daily—forget the moon—they’d barricade themselves in their homes, armed with garlic, crucifixes, and all manner of ridiculous trinkets.

Honestly, the myths were more amusing than offensive.

Vampires repelled by garlic? Please. If Viktor had a dollar for every poorly-seasoned meal he’d suffered through while politely smiling at humans, he’d own the entire city, not just half of it.

He tore his gaze from the moon and surveyed the passing streets through the tinted window.

Other monsters prowled tonight, he was certain, though he had little interest in crossing paths with them.

Tonight, his focus was on far more civilized pursuits—namely, a perfectly aged Napa Valley cabernet sauvignon waiting for him at home.

A good glass of wine might help dull the persistent itch of unease that had been clawing at him lately.

With a faint sigh of contentment, Viktor reached for the investor reports stacked neatly beside him.

Numbers. Glorious, endless numbers. If ruling a clan had its challenges, managing its finances was a joy Viktor wouldn’t dream of delegating.

Each spreadsheet, each projection, was like a puzzle waiting to be solved—a dance of probabilities, risks, and rewards that set his mind alight.

While others might balk at the tedium, Viktor found solace in the precision of it all. Numbers didn’t lie. They didn’t scheme or hide motives behind charming smiles. They were honest, reliable, and, most importantly, lucrative when wielded correctly. And Viktor wielded them like a master.

Just as he was about to dive into the intricacies of his latest acquisition, his focus diverted to…!

An aroma—rich, tantalizing, and maddeningly ambiguous—slipped into the car like a whispered promise.

Viktor froze, his hand hovering over the reports.

His entire body tensed as he inhaled again, sorting through the layers of the scent.

Floral… but with an edge. Sweet, but also metallic.

Human? No, that wasn’t right. It was almost human.

His muscles coiled, predator instincts flaring to life. A vampire’s senses were sharp by nature, but Viktor’s were exceptional, honed over centuries. Yet this scent defied his understanding. It was both alluring and unsettling, like the soft brush of silk concealing a dagger.

What in the nine hells was this?

His jaw tightened as unease gave way to irritation.

The Eastern Clan was his domain. He ruled it with precision and care, ensuring its members thrived under his protection.

Nothing—not so much as a stray cat—entered his territory without his knowledge.

So how had this…this beautiful scent slipped through?

His mind flicked to the bodies. The human corpses discovered recently had baffled the police with their peculiar, unexplainable injuries.

Viktor had dismissed the reports initially, figuring it was some rogue shifter getting sloppy.

Jace, the local pack leader, had been too wrapped up in his own dramas to investigate.

And Sorcia, the High Priestess of her coven, had simply rolled her eyes and muttered something about “amateurs.”

But now… now Viktor wasn’t so sure.

Was this the work of a new vampire? One foolish enough to ignore the most basic tenets of discretion?

If so, they’d made two grave mistakes: killing recklessly and entering his territory without permission.

The scent, maddening as it was, told him one thing with certainty—this was no ordinary situation.

“Dammit,” Viktor muttered under his breath, sniffing the air again, trying to pin down its source. His driver maneuvered the limousine through the sluggish traffic, oblivious to the tension radiating from his employer.

Then he saw it—a flicker of movement on the sidewalk. Something quick, something off .

“Stop,” Viktor barked, his voice sharp as a blade.

The car eased to a halt at the intersection, the hum of the engine fading into the background.

Viktor leaned forward, his gaze locked on the spot where he’d caught the movement.

At first, nothing. His grip on the armrest relaxed slightly.

Perhaps it was just his imagination—centuries of survival instinct misfiring.

And then it happened again. A shadow, barely perceptible, shifting unnaturally. His sharp eyes followed it, narrowing as the outline clarified. No, it wasn’t human. It had the shape of one, but the energy was… wrong. Too sharp, too deliberate.

Not human. Not anymore.

The light changed and his driver started to move forward. “No! Stay here,” Viktor ordered, his voice low but commanding.

The limousine stilled completely, but Viktor was already moving, his hand on the door handle. Whatever this was—whatever had dared to creep into his domain—he would find it. And he would ensure it learned the cost of trespassing.

Startled, the driver glanced in the rearview mirror at Viktor even as he maneuvered the sleek vehicle out of traffic, coming to a smooth stop at the curb.

“We’re almost home, my lord,” Darvin explained, still watching carefully, his attention alert for any threat.

His boss was tense and staring at something.

Darvin shifted his attention in that direction and…

that’s when he spotted the movement and tensed.

There was another very slight movement in the shadows.

Then Darvin watched as the man in charge of the entire east coast vampire coven stepped out of the limousine and walked quickly across the wide sidewalk.

Darvin watched, astonished, as Lord Viktor stepped up to a pale, nearly dead woman leaning against the building.

What the hell was going on? They were in the most exclusive area of Baltimore.

Commercial and residential rental rates in this area of the city were sky high.

Viktor would know that since the man owned most of the buildings in this area.

So who was this…street vermin…that had caught his boss’s attention? She looked like she hadn’t bathed in days, if not weeks. A drug addict? But…why would Lord Viktor waste his time with a tweaker? He had more important issues to deal with.

Darvin examined the woman, noting the blood staining her shirt, the pale skin, and nearly white lips. Her skin was drawn taut over her bones as if she’d been starved for months, while her clothes, what was left of them, hung loosely over her rail-thin body.

Yeah – this had to be a drug addict. But why would Lord Viktor concern himself with this scraggly excuse of a woman? Darvin sniffed experimentally as Lord Viktor carried her back across the sidewalk, but he didn’t detect drugs in her blood. There was an unexpected scent though. Almost as if…?

Darvin tensed, scanning the woman again.

He sniffed once more, but there were too many other scents competing.

Then he understood! But, no, a newly transitioned vamp?

Wait…that was impossible! No one in the clan would dare to transition a human into a vampire without the explicit permission of Lord Viktor!

So if the woman wasn’t a vampire, then what was wrong with her? Why did she look so…strung out? That was the only way to describe her appearance, other than nearly on death’s door.

Perhaps Lord Viktor was angry that such a ragged-looking woman was leaning against his building? Darvin pondered. Still…the scent…! She almost smelled like a vampire, but not quite. No, this woman was…a brand new vamp!

The possibility startled Darvin and he looked around, alert to the possibility of a new threat. If this woman really was a new vamp, then someone was going to die! Someone was challenging Lord Viktor’s clan!

Nothing like this had ever happened before.

Mostly, because no one would dare to defy Lord Viktor; he ruled the clan with absolute authority.

But also because Lord Viktor ensured that every vampire under his authority could thrive, so there was no need to transition or harm a human!

The clan worshiped him and would do whatever it took to ensure that their clan continued to flourish under his leadership.

In his earpiece, Darvin heard Mikail Parsons, Lord Viktor’s head of security. “Where is he?” the vampire snapped. “You are thirty seconds behind schedule!”

Darvin knew that Mikail was worried due to the recent threats.

Recently, dead bodies with strange wounds had been showing up in odd places around Baltimore.

Plus, Darvin knew that there had been some trouble within the shifter pack recently.

Someone had challenged the authority of Viktor’s good friend, Jace Ulfer, the Alpha of the shifter pack.

Was that what was happening here? Was someone now daring to challenge Lord Viktor’s clan leadership?

If that were the case, whoever was trying would get no support from the clan.

The threat had to be from an outside vampire.

That’s what had happened with Jace’s pack; a beta had tried to destabilize the wolf-shifter’s territory.

That trouble had been resolved though, and it hadn’t ended well for the challenger!

Darvin doubted that an outsider was trying to challenge control of the clan. Viktor’s rule was too strong for anyone to dare.

Still, the mystery of the dead bodies was troubling. The Baltimore police had been stumped; no apparent cause of death had been discovered. The bodies had been tortured in ways that humans couldn’t explain.

It was almost as if someone had tried to “turn” humans into vampires.

It was possible to do, but the process was so painful and the potential for survival was so low, that no one ever tried it without supervision and approval from Viktor.

Also, whoever wanted to convert a human to a vampire needed to have a damn good reason.

Viktor hadn’t approved of a transition request for the last five hundred years.

Besides, humans weren’t aware of the existence of vampires. Or shifters, or the stunningly beautiful sorceress and her coven of witches.

It was better to keep humans in the dark about their existence, Darvin knew.

Which was why it was so odd that Lord Viktor had left the limousine and headed into the shadows to help a stranger. Viktor didn’t bother with human troubles, leaving the resolution of murdered humans to the police.

“Darvin, report!” Mikail’s impatient voice snapped in his ear.

Darvin jumped and even reached up to adjust the earpiece. “He stepped out of the vehicle, sir,” Darvin reported. “There’s a woman. She looks sick, but I can’t tell what’s wrong with her.”

“Where?” Mikail demanded.

Darvin knew better than to hesitate a second time. “Right outside the building, sir. The woman looks incredibly pale. Sir, she looks like she could be dying.”

“Give me your location,” he commanded, his voice even, but impatient.

“We’re approximately fifty feet from the underground parking entrance.”

“I’m on my way,” Mikail announced.

Darvin nodded, but forgot to verbally acknowledge the message. He was too consumed by the image of Lord Viktor, who bowed to no one, kneeling down so that he could look into the face of the woman leaning against his building.

No, “leaning” was too active of a description.

The building was holding her up. The woman clearly had no strength left.

It was almost as if…the blood had been drained from her, just like the other corpses that the police were trying to figure out.

But this woman was obviously alive, although barely.

She looked skeletal and beyond pale, her clothes literally hanging from her as if she’d lost a significant amount of weight in a very short period of time.

There was an almost ethereal quality to her.

The nearly white skin glowed in the overhead streetlights, even more pale than a vampire’s normally pale complexion.

Had she starved herself? But why? Even if she’d been changed, why hadn’t her sire taught her how to feed?

No part of this scene made sense and, finally, Darvin realized that he should be watching out for his lord instead of watching the scene unfold.