D. Reynolds - Aden

Aden pounced. Channeling his own power into a single whippet of energy, he slashed out, wrapping the thin beam around the Mexican’s neck, letting the whip curl around and around like a snake, and then giving a single sharp tug.

Ramiro Salvador’s eyes met Aden’s in an instant of shocked disbelief, and in that moment, something passed between them, an understanding, a recognition of mutual respect. And then his head separated from his body, and he died.

Aden fell to his knees, his head thrown back as that hidden aspect of his power came roaring to the fore. It drank in the energy of Salvador’s death, as if by dying he released his power for Aden to draw upon. Distantly, Aden heard the screams of Salvador’s minions as they followed their Sire into death, too newly made to survive the trauma of his ending, and Aden drank in their deaths, too. He didn’t like this gift of his Vampire nature, but he used it. It was a morbid and dark power, but it was also a tremendous secret weapon. And he was a warrior. A warrior used whatever weapons were available to him. Aden’s ability to draw strength from the death of other vampires made it possible for him to recharge in the middle of a fight. And it meant that when the battle was over, he was not so weakened by blood loss that he was vulnerable.

Aden became aware of Bastien at his side. He turned and saw the worry shadowing his lieutenant’s face. He reached out mentally to Bastien and the others and felt their loyalty tinged with genuine fear for his safety, because they . . . loved him. His breath caught in his throat. Had anyone ever loved him before? Not like this.

He gripped Bastien’s arm in thanks and pushed back, stopping his vampire children from offering their own power to aid his healing. He didn’t need it, and they weren’t home free from this challenge yet. What if Silas had learned of the challenge and was waiting for the victor to emerge, thinking he would be weakened and vulnerable in the aftermath?

“We must leave, my lord,” Bastien told him. “Freddy has gone for the truck.”

Aden nodded and stood, feeling an ache in his right leg, which he was fairly certain had been broken a moment ago, the bone sliced through by Salvador’s last attack.

“The Mexican was a worthy opponent,” he said.

“Not worthy enough,” Bastien replied loyally.

Aden’s lip curled in a half smile, but he privately wondered what the situation was in Mexico, that a powerful vampire like Ramiro Salvador had come this far north in search of territory. But then, wasn’t that precisely the situation Raphael had described as happening in Europe? Powerful younger vampires forced to extreme measures to find territories to rule?

It was something to consider, but Aden set the thought aside. That was the battle for another day, after he was Lord of the Midwest. For tonight, he had to get himself and his vampires home safely. He briefly considered paying a visit to Sidonie. He knew where she lived, of course, and could easily bypass her doorman. And while the energy infusion from his unique ability was useful, there was nothing like blood, warm, fresh, and velvety. Like Sidonie’s.

Unfortunately, he was in no mood to deal with whatever had sent her off in a huff earlier.

“Make sure Hamilton knows I want a daylight tail on Sidonie tomorrow,” Aden said as they returned to their SUVs. “And tell Kage to take over the watch after sunset.”

Tomorrow would be soon enough to find out what bug was up her ass. He’d get his answers first.

And then he’d get his blood.

SID HOVERED NEAR the edge of the crowd, drink in hand, pretending she was having a great time at her dad’s birthday party. Everyone else was. But she was just . . . sad. Not weepy, put-on-a-cowboy-love-song sad, it was more of a stare-out-the- window-at-nothing sad. She knew where the blame belonged for this particular sadness, though. He was tall, dark, and handsome, and he sucked blood. Although if she was being perfectly honest, it wasn’t Aden’s fault, either. The fault rested with her naïve assumption that she could ever be anything to him besides a quick drink and a lay. Dresner had warned her about vampires, about their preference for short-term hookups and no commitment. Blood and sex. Wasn’t that what she’d said? And Sidonie had been certain she was prepared, that her goals were clear, and she didn’t want or need anything else.

“Hey, Sid.”

She turned with a smile for Will Englehart. They’d driven up together, and she’d been a terrible companion, silent and staring out the window. He was looking very handsome in his tuxedo, and she was about to tell him so when she noticed the woman holding his hand. She was blond, petite, and curvy, and the look she was giving Sid held just a hint of challenge.

“Sid, this is Jennifer Lascher. Jenny, Sidonie Reid.”

Sid shook the woman’s hand, trying to keep the curiosity out of her voice and expression, and settled for the ever reliable, “Nice to meet you.”

Jenny murmured something polite but didn’t bother to conceal either her own curiosity or the little bit of hostility that lingered in her eyes.

Amenities done with, Sid gave Will a look that said, “What now?”

Will grinned back at her, but when he spoke it was to Jenny. Draping an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her close and brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Give us a few minutes, okay? I’ll meet you back at the table.”

Sid studied Will as he stared after Jenny’s retreating back. He turned and caught her watching him.

“New girlfriend?” she teased, knowing full well it was more than that. She might not want to marry Will, but she’d known him all her life.

He smiled back at her, and Sid knew she was right. “Let’s talk,” he said.

“I think this one needs privacy,” Sid commented, slipping her hand through his arm. “The patio’s empty.”

The blast of cold air when they opened the French doors told them exactly why the patio was empty, but her parents—or their party planner—had set up heaters for the few hardy souls who were willing to brave the cold in order to grab a quick cigarette break. There was no one out here now, however, so Sid and Will had the patio to themselves.

“Is it serious?” she asked him, glad she’d worn a sweater over her dress. The heaters could only do so much.

“You could say that,” he said, looking out at the sloping yard. “We’re engaged.”

Sid drew back in quickly-concealed surprise, thankful that Will had been admiring her parents’ perfect landscaping instead of looking at her.

“But—”

“I know. I should have told you, but . . . it’s not like you and I were really going to get married, Sid.” He looked at her then, his pretty brown eyes solemn and sincere.

She smiled to let him know it was okay. “Will,” she said soothingly, “I’m not upset. I’m just surprised that you didn’t say anything before this. How can you be engaged when I didn’t even know you were dating someone?”

“It happened kind of fast. We worked a case together a few months ago, one of those multiple plaintiff deals. Anyway, we just . . . clicked. She loves me, Sid. It’s like . . . I walk into the room, and her whole face lights up. Like I matter.”

Sid slapped his arm playfully. “Of course, you matter, you idiot. You always have. Do you love her?”

“More than I ever thought possible,” he said with a dreamy sigh that would have done a teenaged girl proud.

“Well, I’m happy for you. For you both. Do your parents know?”

“We’re telling them this weekend. Tomorrow actually, brunch at the club, both families at the same time.”

“Brave man.”

He laughed. “Nah, my parents will love her, plus they kind of know each other, since it turns out her parents are members, too. But, Sid,” he added, going serious. “I wanted to tell you first.”

She went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “That’s sweet, thank you. But I’m not upset, so don’t worry. Will I be invited to the wedding?”

“Of course! Won’t be for a while yet. At least a year. Jenny wants the whole catastrophe, and I’m told these things take time to plan.”

“So I’ve heard,” Sid murmured. She didn’t tell him she’d heard it from her own mother at least once a year for the last several years, and always in reference to her own wedding . . . to Will. “You should find Jenny now,” she said, pushing him toward the door. “She’ll be wondering what we’re doing out here.”

“Right. Thanks, Sid. I still love you, you know.”

“And I love you, just—”

“—not that way,” he chorused along with her, laughing. “Are you going back inside?”

“I think I’ll hang out here a bit longer. It’s kind of stuffy in there.”

“Not too long, though, okay? You’re not dressed for this weather.”

“Got it,” she said, fighting a grin. She watched as he opened the patio doors and was quickly lost in the crowd of partygoers, then watched a little longer. All those people, laughing and talking. There were even a few couples dancing now, including her parents. They were an attractive couple. Her mom pretty and trim, despite her three children, two of whom—Sid’s brothers—had been enormous babies. And then there was her dad. Tall, slender, and handsome in a classic all-American way, the reddish-gold hair he’d passed on to his only daughter now threaded with silver.

Sid knew that all children wanted to believe their parents were in love, but she was convinced that her parents really were. And that’s what she wanted. She didn’t want a marriage of convenience or dynasty. She wanted passion. She wanted . . . Fuck. She wanted Aden.