The big male faced the two Order warriors. His fangs dripped with blood and sticky saliva. His transformed eyes glowed bright amber, the pupils fixed and narrowed to thin vertical slits in the center of all that fiery light. His jaw hung open as he roared, insane with Bloodlust and ready to attack.
Jehan didn’t allow him the chance.
He threw his dagger without mercy or warning. The titanium blade glinted in the moonlight as the weapon sliced through the distance and struck its mark, burying to the hilt in the center of the Rogue’s chest.
The vampire roared in agony, then collapsed in a heap on the cobbles as the poisonous metal began to devour him.
When the process had finished, Jehan strode over to retrieve his weapon from the ashes.
Savage blew out a low curse behind him. “Four Breed males gone Rogue in the same city on the same night? No one’s seen those kind of numbers in the past twenty years.”
Jehan nodded. He’d been a youth at that time, but more than old enough to remember firsthand. “Let’s hope we never see bloodshed again like we did back then, Sav.”
And all the more reason to take Opus Nostrum out at the root. For Jehan, a Breed male who’d spent a lot of his privileged life in pursuit of one pleasure or another, he couldn’t think of any higher calling than his place among the Order.
He cleaned his dagger and sheathed it on the weapons belt of his black patrol fatigues. “Come on,” he said to Savage. “I saw Trygg ash one of these four a few blocks back. Let’s go find him and make sure we don’t have any witnesses in need of a mind-scrub before we report back to Commander Archer at headquarters.”
They pivoted to leave the alley together—only to find they were no longer alone there.
Another Breed male stood at the mouth of the narrow passage. Dark-eyed, with a trimmed black beard around the grim line of his mouth, the vampire was dressed in a black silk tunic over loose black pants tucked into gleaming black leather boots that rose nearly to his knees.
The only color he wore was a striped sash of vibrant, saffron-and-cerulean silk tied loosely around his waist. Family colors. Formal colors, reserved for the solemnest of old traditions.
Jehan couldn’t bite back his low, uttered curse.
Beside him in the alleyway, Savage moved his fingers toward his array of weapons.
“It’s all right.” Jehan stayed his comrade’s hand with a pointed shake of his head. “Naveen is my father’s emissary.”
In response, the dark-haired male inclined his head. “Greetings, Prince Jehan, noble eldest son of Rahim, the just and honorable king of the Mafakhir tribe.”
The courtly bow that followed set Jehan’s teeth and fangs on edge almost as much as his official address. From within the folds of his tunic, Naveen withdrew a sealed piece of parchment. The royal messenger held it out to Jehan in sober, expectant silence.
A stamped, red wax seal rode the back of the official missive...just like the one Jehan had received in this same manner a year ago.
A year and a day ago, he mentally amended.
For a moment, Jehan just stood there, unmoving.
But he knew Naveen had been sent with specific orders to deliver the sealed message, and it would dishonor the male deeply if he failed in that mission.
Jehan stepped forward and took the stiff, folded parchment from Naveen’s outstretched hand. As soon as it was in Jehan’s possession, the royal messenger pivoted and strode back into the darkness without another word.
In the silence that followed, Savage gaped. “What the fuck was that all about?”
“Family business. It’s not important.” Jehan slipped the document into the waistband of his pants without opening it.
“It sure as hell looked important to that guy.” When Jehan started walking out of the alley, Sav matched his clipped pace. “What is it? Some kind of royal subpoena?”
Jehan grunted. “Something like that.”
“Aren’t you going to read it?”
Jehan shrugged. “There’s no need. I know what it says.”
Sav arched a blond brow. “Yeah, but I don’t.”
To satisfy his friend’s curiosity, Jehan retrieved the sealed message and passed it over to him. “Go ahead.”
Sav broke the seal and unfolded the parchment, reading as he and Jehan turned down another narrow street. “It says someone died. A mated couple, killed together in a plane crash a year ago.”
Jehan nodded grimly, already well aware of the couple’s tragic demise. News of their deaths had been the reason for the first official notice he’d received from his father.
Savage read on. “This says the couple—a Breed male from the Mafakhir tribe and a Breedmate from another tribe, the Sanhaja, had been blood-bonded as part of a peace pact between the families.”
Jehan grunted in acknowledgment. The pact had been in place for centuries, the result of an unfortunate chain of events that had spawned a bloody conflict between his family and their closest neighbors, the Sanhajas. After enough blood had been spilled on both sides, a truce was finally declared. A truce that was cemented with blood spilled by another means.
An eternal bond, shared between a male from Jehan’s line and a Breedmate from the rival tribe.
So long as the two families were bound together by blood, there had been peace. The pact had never been broken. The couple who perished in the plane crash had been the sole link between the families in the modern age. With their deaths, the pact was in limbo until a new couple came together to revive the bond.
Savage had apparently just gotten to the part of the message Jehan had been dreading for the past twelve months. “It says here that in accordance with the terms of that pact, if the blood bond is severed and no other couple elects to carry it forward within the term of a year and a day, then the eldest unmated son of the eldest Breed male of the Mafakhir tribe and the unmated Breedmate nearest the age of thirty from the Sanhaja tribe shall...”