tall, Aztec warrior dressed in leather with a long braid hanging down his back.
Styx was the current Anasso (King of Vampires), and mated to Darcy. No doubt, Regan’s mate, Jagr, as well as Cassie’s mate, Caine, were both prowling nearby.
Still edgy, Salvatore forced a stiff smile to his lips.
“I thought I smelled dead meat,” he drawled, never able to resist the opportunity to mock the vampire’s massive arrogance.
Styx folded his arms over his broad chest, flashing his fangs as if the humongous sword strapped to his back wasn’t intimidating enough.
The King of Vampires was a firm believer in overkill.
Literally.
“Better than wet mutt,” he countered.
“Why are you skulking out here?” Salvatore’s gaze skimmed toward the nearby guards who were clearly unhappy to have a vampire so near the lair. The truce that had been established between Weres and vamps was still difficult for many to accept. They’d been enemies for too many centuries to instantly become allies. Besides, the two species were both too aggressive to ever be truly easy in each other’s company. “Trying to terrify my poor servants?”
Styx shrugged. “I assumed you would be reluctant to allow guests too close to your new pups.”
Salvatore nodded. He’d cut out his tongue before he’d admit it, but he appreciated Styx’s consideration.
“It’s been . . . difficult,” he admitted, his gaze shifting to his home on top of the hill. He squashed a sigh at the sight of the numerous guests that he could see through the floor to ceiling windows.
“I can imagine,” Styx muttered.
“No, you truly can’t.”
Styx gave a lift of one raven brow. “If you need me to clean out your unwelcome visitors, just say the word. I’d be delighted to kick some Were ass,” he offered, a glow of anticipation in his dark eyes. The vampire was always eager for a fight. “It’s been far too long.”
Salvatore grimaced, rolling his tense shoulders. The persistent sensation of approaching danger was making him jumpy as hell.
“As much as I hate to admit it, I wish I could let you,” he said.
Styx shrugged. “You’re the king. Throw them out the door.”
“It’s because I’m the king that I can’t.”
The Anasso snorted at Salvatore’s resigned explanation. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve broken too many traditions,” Salvatore admitted. The past century had been a difficult one for the purebreds. Not only had they been drained of their powers by the previous king’s connection to a demon lord, but the world had become a rapidly changing landscape that wasn’t always easy for an immortal to adapt to. “The Weres need to be confident that I respect our past while I try to drag them kicking and screaming into the future.”
Styx gave a slow nod. He was having his own battles to try and haul the vampires out of the dark ages. “You have my full sympathies.”
“Besides, my people have waited too long to celebrate the return of Were children,” Salvatore continued. “This feast is a symbol of hope.”
As if to prove his point, there was a roar from inside the house, followed by the sound of splintering wood. It was doubtful that the furniture would survive the celebration.
“How is Harley?” Styx asked, thankfully drawing Salvatore’s thoughts away from the destruction of his beautiful lair.
“Weak, but delirious with happiness.” His smile became genuine as he thought of his mate, her face flushed with a joy that came from her very soul. “She hasn’t allowed the pups out of her sight since they were born.”
“And you?”
“Dazed. And equally delirious.”
Styx narrowed his eyes. “There’s something troubling you.”
Salvatore tried to look casual. Did the damn bloodsucker have to be so perceptive? It was annoying.
“I’m a little on edge.”
“A little?” Styx gave a short laugh. “You’re about to combust.”
“Becoming a father is proving to be a constant source of terror,” Salvatore said,