The room was dim, lit only by the glow of the logs that burned in the massive stone fireplace on the opposite wall. The lodge was wired for electricity, but it was seldom used - no real need for lights when Sergei Yakut and the rest of the Breed had preternaturally acute vision, especially in the dark.
The Breed's other senses were also keenly sharp, but Lex suspected that even a human would be hard-pressed to miss the combined odors of blood and sex that mingled with the tang of woodsmoke.
"My apologies for the interruption," Lex murmured as his father came out of an adjacent room.
Yakut was naked, his c**k still partially erect, its ruddy length bobbing obscenely with his each swaggering stride. Revolted by the sight, Lex blinked, started to look away. He quickly thought better of it, refusing to give in to a weak impulse that was sure to be counted against him. Instead he watched his father enter the room, the old vampire's eyes glowing like amber coals set deep into his skull, pupils reduced to narrow vertical slits at their center. His fangs were huge in his mouth, points fully extended and sharp as blades.
A sheen of sweat coated Yakut's body, every inch of him livid with color from the pulsing hues of his dermaglyphs, the unique Breed skin markings that spread from the Gen One's throat to his ankles. Fresh blood - unmistakably human, yet weak- scented enough to indicate a Minion source - smeared across his torso and flanks.
Lex wasn't surprised by the evidence of his father's recent activity, nor by the fact that the trio of muffled voices in the other room were those of his current stock of human mind slaves. Creating and keeping Minions, something only the most powerful, purest bloodlines of the race were capable of doing, had long been an illegal practice among polite Breed society. However, that was among the least of Sergei Yakut's offenses. He made his own rules, dispensed his own justice, and here, in this remote place, he made it clear to all that he was king. Even Lex could appreciate that kind of freedom and power. Hell, he could practically taste it.
Yakut aimed a dismissive glance at him from across the wide space of the room. "I look at you, and I see the dead standing before me."
Lex frowned. "Sir?"
"If not for the warrior's restraint and my intervention tonight, you would be lying beside Urien on that warehouse roof back in the city, both of your corpses awaiting sunrise." Contempt edged every syllable. Yakut picked up an iron tool from hearthside and stabbed at the logs on the grate. "I spared your life tonight, Alexei. What more do you expect I owe you this evening?"
Lex bristled at the reminder of his earlier humiliation, but he knew anger wouldn't serve him well, particularly not when he was facing his father. He gave a deferential bow of his head, finding it a damned hard struggle to keep the edge out of his voice. "I am your faithful servant, Father. You owe me nothing whatsoever. And I ask nothing of you but the honor of your continued trust and confidence in me."
Yakut grunted. "Spoken more like a politician than a soldier. I have no need for politicians in my ranks, Alexei."
"I am a soldier," Lex replied quickly, raising his head and watching as his father continued to jab the iron poker into the fire. The logs broke apart, sparks shooting upward, crackling in the long, deadly silence that fell over the room. "I am a soldier," Lex stated again. "I want to serve you as best I can, Father."
A scoff now, but Yakut swiveled his shaggy head to regard Lex from over his shoulder. "You give me words, boy. I put neither trust nor confidence in words. Lately I can't see that you've offered me anything more."
"How do you expect me to be effective if you don't keep me better informed?" When those amber-hued eyes with their slivered pupils narrowed sharply on him, Lex hurried to add "I ran into the warrior on the grounds. He told me about the recent Gen One killings. He said the Order had contacted you personally to warn you of the potential danger. I should have been made aware of that, Father. As the captain of your guard, I deserve to be informed - "
"You deserve?" The question hissed from between Yakut's lips. "Please, Alexei...tell me just what it is you feel that you deserve."
Lex remained silent.
"Nothing to add, son?" Yakut cocked his head at an exaggerated angle, his mouth pulled into a tight sneer. "A similar charge was hurled at me some years ago from the lips of a stupid female who thought she could appeal to my sense of obligation. My mercy, perhaps." He chuckled, turning his attention back to the fire to stab again at the incinerating logs. "No doubt you recall what that got her."
"I recall," Lex answered carefully, surprised by the dry catch in his throat as he spoke.
Memories swirled out of the undulating flames in the fireplace.
Northern Russia , the dead of winter. Lex was a boy, barely ten years old, but the man of his meager household for as long as he could remember. His mother was all he had. The only one who knew him for what he truly was, and loved him regardless. He'd worried the night she told him she was taking him to meet his father for the first time. She said Lex had been a secret she'd been keeping - her little treasure. But the winter had been hard, and they were poor. The country was in turmoil, unsafe for a woman raising a child like Lex on her own. They needed shelter, someone to protect them. She prayed Lex's father would provide for them. She promised that he would open his arms to them in welcome once he met his son.
Sergei Yakut had welcomed them with cold fury and a terrible, unthinkable ultimatum.
Lex remembered his mother's pleas for Yakut to take them in...completely ignored. He remembered the proud, beautiful woman getting down on her knees before Yakut, begging that if he would not care for them both that he look to Alexei alone instead.