Page 125 of Thirst
Brien stepped next to his lieutenant. He didn’t seem surprised, and neither did Talon. I should’ve guessed they’d have a Plan B.
Maxime, a slim French vampire with swept-back dark hair who was my sire’s closest friend, moved to block Brien. The Maritime primus leveled a look at him. Maxime halted and retreated without a word.
Something in the room had shifted, a subtle rebalancing of power. Cain had just tilted the board, and Nazaire was too arrogant, too focused on his own maneuvers to realize he was playing under someone else’s rules.
But other QCS men noticed, except possibly Rodrigo. Several of them eased backward, giving Cain and his friends a little more space.
Beneath the fear, beneath the dagger biting into my side, hope stirred. Not the fragile, flowery kind. The kind that came with teeth and claws.
“Yes,” Brien told his lieutenant. “You have my permission. And you’d better fucking win,” he muttered under his breath.
“I will,” Cain said simply.
Brien raised a brow at Nazaire. “The challenge has been made. Do you accept?”
Nazaire pushed me at the two closest QCS vampires—Maxime and Rodrigo.
They grabbed me. Maxime’s grip was impersonal, but my cousin’s fingers dug painfully into my arm.
“You little idiot,” he hissed in my ear. “What have you done?”
Cain growled and took a threatening step in our direction. Two QCS vampires were instantly in his face, blades to his throat.
He acted like they weren’t even there. “Let her go,” he ordered my cousin.
Rodrigo’s chest puffed like the brainless rooster he was.
Maxime made an irritated sound. “Treat her with respect,” he snapped at my cousin. “The challenge demands that.”
“Blood-rat doesn’t deserve my respect,” he muttered.
I rounded on him, fangs bared. “I am not a blood-rat,” I hissed. “He was the one holding a knife to my liver. That makes him the blood-rat. He has never treated me like his spawn. I’m only a tool to him, and a faulty one at that.”
I meant every word. The scales had fallen from my eyes. I hadn’t betrayed Nazaire. You couldn’t betray someone who’d never deserved your loyalty.
I leaned closer to Rodrigo, fangs an inch from his neck. “And if you call me that again,” I said softly, “you’ll find out exactly how little I have left to lose.”
His eyes widened—a flash, followed by a scowl—but he loosened his grip.
Nazaire was focused on Brien. “If I win,” he said, “I’ll be part of your hierarchy.”
The primus dipped his blond head. “Correct.”
“Ah…” Nazaire drew out the syllable like a hungry snake. “That would allow me to challenge you, wouldn’t it, ‘Primus’?”
Brien’s lips lifted in a smile that should’ve made Nazaire shiver in his polished leather shoes. But he was too drunk on the fantasy of slaying Brien and claiming the title of Maritime Primus.
“I’d welcome it.” Brien paused long enough to be insulting. “Enforcer.”
Nazaire’s eyes narrowed, but he let it pass, turning to Cain. “Then I accept.”
“The challenge has been accepted,” Brien announced. “Name your seconds.”
“I name Lieutenant Talon as my second,” said Cain, “and ask my primus and prima to serve as witnesses.”
Talon stepped up beside Cain, broad-shouldered and formidable.
“We accept,” said Brien.
