Page 7 of Worse Fates

Instead, I say, “Maybe your biggest concern is losing that pretty face.”

A passing man smiles low and suggestive at Ramy, who all but ignores him.

“Me? What about you, famous playboy of Spain?”

If only sex hadn’t lost all pleasure. Even a random face and a rough fuck against a wall has become a chore.

“Or are you too busy brooding to take notice?”

Ramy knows heartbreak has a tight grip on me, and I’m desperate to find my reincarnated mate, if he’s in this city at all. He might not even been reborn yet. I never get a warning whenI should next reencounter him; it’s completely random, and the waiting is worse.

When we finally get to our club,Sucker, and go up through the private entrance to find Rurik. My vampire brother rutting against a man bent over a sofa. Fangs buried into the humans neck.

Ramy and I ignore him, and we’re ignored in return.

“I wonder if vampires can OD,” Ramy asks as we enter my office and he drops onto a chair. “That human smelt of drugs.”

“Rurik’s certainly trying.”

For all of Ramy’s jokes, he still turns back to the door, a wrinkle between his brow.

“Leave him to it, you know how he can be.” I sit in the leather chair at my desk.

Ramy captures a strand of his long hair and twists it around his finger, concern for Rurik written all over his face.

“He lost his mate, Ramy,” I tell him. “There’s no fixing him. Rurik was like this long before you came into our lives. Nor are you responsible for dragging him from the brink.”

We’re both quiet.

No one speaks about Rurik’s dead mate, or the tragic events of his death nearly fifty years ago. Which is why being with Ramy is easier than with Rurik, who is a reminder of what I lost.

But unlike my soulmate, his didn’t die by natural means and will never be reincarnated.

“He’s improved,” Ramy says. “At least he stopped asking us to kill him.”

“Now if only Vidar would.” I don’t bother hiding my bitterness when speaking of our Maker. Another touchy subject to add to the pile.

“You bought him this club to indulge him and he spends all his time in that dusty old mansion, locked in the basement like some ghoul.” Ramy turns his nose up at the idea.

“Have you visited him recently?” I ask, tapping my fingers against my dark wood desk.

Ramy’s silence is weighted. He’s the youngest of Vidar’s offspring and feels more responsible for our maker than the rest of us do. I’ve tried to pull that weight off him, but guilt is Ramy’s ever companion.

“Not in the last few weeks,” Ramy admits, his stare far away. “But I will, soon, maybe on Sunday.”

My tapping continues. I don’t want to see the state of our once great Maker. My friend. But as the leader of our family, reluctant as it may be, I can’t allow Ramy to go alone.

I still my tapping, and bring both hands together to rest on the desk.

“I’ll come with you.”

Ramy’s perfectly straight eyebrow raises.

I wave his confusion away. “I can at least hold the grumpy bastard down while you force blood down his throat.”

“He’s not grumpy,” Ramy defends gently. “He’s…”

“I know what he is. Apathy has ruined many a vampire. You can love him fiercely, as I still do, but he stopped caring about himself years ago.” I turn in my chair to stare out at the wall length window, to the club below and writhing bodies dancing to music blocked from entering by the soundproof glass. “Maybe we should bring Rurik.”