Bishop listened, but he remained unmoved. Not even Regina's tears, now streaming down her cheeks, had any effect. He was in too deep and for much too long. Rather than wasting time feeling pity or remorse for things he couldn't change, he was already calculating ways to twist this situation so that he might curry the favor of Gerard Starkn - or Dragos, whatever the powerful male had taken to calling himself now.
Offering neither a word nor a hand, he watched Regina come up to her feet. She despised him; he could feel it seething in her blood.
"I want you to leave, Victor. Tonight, I want you gone from this Darkhaven."
It was such a ridiculous demand, he laughed out loud. "You expect me to walk away from my own home?"
"That's right," she replied, steady as he'd ever seen her. "Because if you don't, I will expose your corruption to the entire Breed nation. You, Gerard Starkn, Henry Vachon ... all of you."
Defiant, she turned on her heel and headed for the open doorway of the study. He didn't let her reach it.
In a second - less than that - he flashed from where he'd been standing in the center of the room to directly in front of her, blocking her path into the foyer beyond. He grabbed her fiercely by the upper arms, then spoke through gritted teeth. "You will do no such thing. You, my dear, will mind your f**king tongue. You will mind your mate, if you know what's good for you."
Her eyes went a bit wider, and he saw her throat move as she swallowed. Before she spoke, he had mistaken it for fear. "Or what?" she asked, much too bold for his liking. "What will you do, Victor, kill me?"
Although it was rare enough to be virtually unheard of, particularly in these modern, civilized times, he wouldn't be the first Breed male to lose control of the more savage side of his nature and kill his mate.
As he looked at Regina, he realized how much easier it would be for him without her now. His sins would die with her. And if Corinne, wherever she ended up, should ever think to stand in his way, it would be nothing at all to pluck her from this world like a burr trapped under his saddle. She was nothing to him now, even less than she had been the night Gerard Starkn had stolen her away.
Bishop's grip on his Breedmate tightened, almost of its own accord. She frowned, pain pinching her pretty face. "You're hurting me," she complained, casting a nervous glance over the top of his shoulder as though searching for help.
He was sick with anger now, and cold with the realization that as much as her trust in him had been shattered, so too was his faith in her. "Threatening me was a very stupid thing to do, Regina. I might have been able to excuse your contempt of me, but as you've so helpfully pointed out, you have become a threat to my way of living. You are a risk I cannot afford - "
The sudden click of a gun being chambered took him aback. But no more so than the feel of cold metal coming to rest against his right temple.
"You need to take your hands off her, sir. Now."
Mason.
Without looking, he knew the low, steady voice of one of his longest-serving guards. And he had seen the male in action more than once, enough to understand that he was caught in a very unpleasant predicament. Righteous to a fault, Mason would not back down from a fight unless he was no longer breathing. All the more so when he was coming to the defense of lovely Regina, whom Bishop had long suspected secretly meant more to Mason than simply the lady of the Darkhaven. Mason would protect her to his death, Bishop had no doubt. Which meant he was going to have to bloody his hands with the lives of both of them before this day was out.
No matter, Bishop thought, devoid of mercy.
He was ready to do whatever he must to put his life - his future - on a less complicated course.
"I said let her go." Mason pushed the cold nose of his pistol a bit more insistently against Bishop's temple.
Bishop released Regina from his hold, complying with the tightly issued order, but only long enough to let the guard believe the situation was under control. As soon as he sensed Mason's trigger finger relax, Bishop railed on him with fangs bared. Regina screamed as he knocked the weapon out of the other male's grasp. She took off running from the study as the gun clattered out to the foyer floor. Bishop lunged for his guard. They were an equal match, Bishop having the advantage of his fierce determination, his fury like a madness pounding in his blood and brain. With an unhinged roar, he grabbed Mason by the chest and flung him with all his might against the far wall of the study. He didn't give the guard so much as a second to react. Leaping at him, he crushed the heel of his Italian loafer into Mason's groin. The vampire bellowed in agony, his eyes burning like coals, fangs tearing out of his gums. Bishop chuckled. He couldn't help himself from taking some enjoyment in the pain he was causing the other male. He would kill Mason slowly before strangling Regina with his bare hands.
As the thought danced through his mind, he caught a rush of movement in the foyer. Regina had come back, hadn't gone very far at all. She had Mason's gun in her hands. Bishop swung a hard look on her - just in time to hear the metallic pop of the hammer as she squeezed the trigger. The bullet discharged, sailed toward him on a small cloud of smoke. He jerked out of its path at the very last moment. Behind him, the curtained French door exploded with a crash of breaking glass. Afternoon sunlight poured in through the hole in the thick curtains, bringing with it the chill December breeze.
Bishop snorted, about to ridicule his Breedmate's shaky hands and lousy aim. But then she fired again. She fired at him again and again and again, and this time there was no chance to evade the hail of bullets. She fired until the gun had been emptied into him. He staggered back on his heels, looking down at the field of scarlet that seeped out of his chest. He couldn't stop the bleeding, could only stare in baffled astonishment at the hellish damage. He felt his heart labor to keep its rhythm, each breath a raw scrape of talons in his chest. His legs grew weak beneath him.