Dominic

The street below the balcony was alive with activity. Laughter and jazz music echoed upward as I leaned against the railing, smoking. The bright southern sun shone overhead, making it the perfect day to just hang out, just me and Anthony. But we had guests, and I'd seized the opportunity to escape for a moment to clear my head. Belmont always gave me mixed feelings, somehow managing to make me question myself every time.

"Nice place you've got here."

I glanced back at Conor, who stood in the doorway, before replying, "Anthony's accustomed to a certain level of luxury."

"I can imagine," he laughed, moving to stand beside me. His curious eyes swept over me as he rested his forearms on the iron railing.

"Old habits die hard," I smirked, offering him a cigarette.

"Don't mind Belmont," he said, straight to the point as always. "He's got a lot of emotions to work through. Don't take it personally."

"For once, we're both happy," I muttered bitterly. "He should be happy for me."

"You're different," he noted, taking the cigarette from me.

"We all are."

"You especially," said a harsh whiskey voice behind us.

I peered over my shoulder at Clocksworth, who stood in the doorway.  "Maybe. Or maybe I've just gone back to who I was before I met Belmont," I replied with a shrug. "Hang around him long enough, and you soften up eventually," I added with a sly grin, giving Conor a pointed look

He only rolled his eyes but seemed to agree with me.  "I heard about you long before you and Alexander joined us," Clocksworth continued.

"Why didn't we ever see you in Paris?" I countered.

"We stayed within our borders," he answered, but I wasn't satisfied—there was more to his actions than he was letting on.  "But everyone spoke of the clockmaker with respect, even the triplets."

"And you weren't afraid of them, from what I've heard," he chuckled. "You're the first to ever sit at their table."

I laughed. "It helped to have a guardian as a boyfriend." I smiled, thinking back to those days. In some ways, life had been simpler then. "I didn't think you were the type to listen to gossip," I teased, but his expression turned serious.

"I had to ask around before letting you join us," his dark brown eyes locked onto mine. "I know it was you pulling the strings—Masson was just a name."

He was right, and it was oddly comforting that he knew. But there was something else behind his words, something I couldn't quite place.  "What do you want from me, Clocksworth?" I sighed, turning so that I leaned my back against the railing, shoving my hands into my pockets.

He ran a hand through his short-cropped hair and smiled. "I want us to forget the past, move forward, look ahead."

"And what does the future look like? What's your plan?"

"I don't have one," he admitted. "But I won't let my hometown be destroyed by prejudice and hate."

"Anthony's your plan now, isn't he? You want to hand over the heavy responsibility to someone who knows exactly what to do."

"I won't lie—it's tempting."

"And he probably wants it," I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck with my palm. "And I can hardly deny him his birthright."

"He's welcome to it," Clock muttered, sitting down in one of our chairs. "But I've seen the way he looks at you. If you want to come back here, he won't hesitate to oblige."

I nodded because I knew he was right. The question was: "But he'll never truly be satisfied, will he? He'll always feel like he's missing something."

Clocksworth leaned back in the chair, crossing one foot over his knee. "You love him."

I raised an eyebrow, meeting his inquisitive gaze with amusement. "I've loved many," I began, my eyes flicking briefly toward Conor. "Magnus was my first great love, and I love Belmont with all my heart, but what I feel for Anthony is something entirely different." I dropped my gaze, smiling to myself. "He understands me better than anyone else, and I won't let anything come between us."

Clocksworth nodded thoughtfully. "Did he tell you what it means to be married to him—a prince?"

I sighed, shaking my head. "It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't it? He is the only old blood left among all vampires in France. He's the last prince, and you're his partner." He rose from his chair and stepped closer, a broad smile on his lips. "We work for you now."

The room was silent and still when we entered, but just as tastelessly decorated as ever. Clocksworth lingered by the door while Anthony sat wide-legged on the couch, pouring us each a glass of cognac.

"Take a seat."

I raised an eyebrow at his command but stayed where I was. His irritation flickered across his face as I scanned the room. There were three entrances, only one of which was guarded. The pistol rested securely in my belt, hidden beneath my jacket. Still, the situation felt unsettling. We had entered the home of the most influential vampire family uninvited, and I wasn't about to sit down and risk walking into an ambush.

"You seem tense, darling," a light voice purred behind me. Slim hands with crimson-painted nails slipped under my jacket, moving toward my chest. "I can help you relax," whispered the full lips near my ear—lips I'd once allowed to roam freely across my body.

"I don't know if you're brave or suicidal, sweetheart," Clocksworth chuckled from the shadows. "But take my advice and step back; it'll save us all a bloodbath."

Julienne giggled and sashayed to one of the armchairs, settling across from Anthony with a defiant look. "My brother is occupied. We weren't expecting guests of such importance."

"We can wait," Anthony stated calmly, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. With one last glance at the door behind me, I walked to the couch, took my seat beside him, downed the drink he had poured for me in one gulp, and propped my feet on the table.

"You should really redecorate this place," I muttered, lighting a cigarette and letting my eyes wander over the golden candelabras and black-painted skulls. "Feels like walking into a damn mausoleum."

"My brother's taste is unique," she admitted with a practiced smile on her crimson lips. "But I must say, I'm terribly disappointed, Dominic, darling. You didn't show up at our last soirée."

"We're here now," I replied, running my fingertips over Anthony's hand, which rested still on his thigh.

"And may I ask why?"

"No," he answered curtly, fixing his gaze on the small figure with sharp teeth. "We're not here to meet intermediaries, girl," he spat, maintaining his usual composed demeanor. He didn't even bother altering his expression, as though she weren't worth the effort.

"Girl?" she laughed. "So, that's the issue, Prince? That I am of the other gender? Am I worth less because of it?"

He sighed, bored, leaning forward to refill my glass. "Of course not. But you don't deserve my attention until you show some respect to me and my family. So, run along and fetch your brother, child."

I watched irritation build on her face. "If he dies, I inherit everything," she snapped.

"Then why are you still here? Go stick a knife in his back so we can talk business, sweetheart," I growled impatiently, downing my second glass.

From the doorway, Clocksworth's amused smile lingered. We were playing our game like the masters we were. Naturally, we'd known Lucas was in a critical meeting that couldn't be interrupted. The goal was to win Julienne to our side. Now, it was just a matter of convincing her to agree to our plan because we needed powerful allies to reclaim Paris.

"And what's in it for me?" she sighed, feigning disinterest, though her expression betrayed her curiosity.

It wouldn't take much. Over the years as a vampire, I had learned what they craved most: power. And that was precisely what we were offering her. I retrieved the folded paper tucked inside my jacket—a note bearing Lucas's order to kill his sister—and tossed it onto the table. With a smile tugging at my lips, I knew she was caught. Lucas would die, and my family would grow stronger.

***

"How did it go?" muttered Belmont, left sulking in the apartment with Conor while the rest of us headed off to Lucas' manor.

Clock gave Belmont a hesitant smile, and it struck me how much he must be wrestling with his feelings—or had they both moved on? "It went as planned, I suppose," he replied evasively, sinking into the nearest armchair.

I shrugged in agreement, but Anthony's grim expression cut me off. I sighed as he strode toward the bedroom, loosening his tie as he went. I watched him for a moment before dramatically leaning my head back, staring at the ceiling, and letting out a loud groan. After a few minutes of deliberation, I decided to follow him, albeit with dragging steps.

Things had gone well—Julienne was more than eager to take power from her brother. We'd agreed she would kill him, but we would be there to ensure it happened. Everything had gone better than expected, so where was this mood coming from?

"Are you sure?" I heard Conor ask skeptically, probably referring to Anthony's sudden mood swing and my exasperated noises, but I didn't catch more before closing the bedroom door behind me.

"I haven't seen you angry in a long time," I remarked, kicking off my shoes and flopping onto the bed.

"Irritated," he muttered, hanging up his black shirt on a hanger.

"At?"

Three strides were all it took for him to reach the bed. His gaze was intense, probing, as he leaned over me. "If she touches you again, I'll kill her."

I laughed. "I could've strangled her myself, but the plan was to cooperate. Right?"

He shook his head, closing his eyes. "I hate her."

"You're jealous," I teased, relishing in his frustration.

"Maybe," he admitted, lowering himself over me to pin me down on the bed, his arms braced on either side of my shoulders like a wall.

"You're an idiot," I said with my broadest grin, running my fingertips over his freshly shaved jaw. "Why would I want anyone else when I have you?"

His stern expression softened slightly before he began peppering my neck with small kisses. "I won't be easy to deal with," he murmured, his lips leaving my skin.

"In France?"

He nodded, lifting his body so our eyes could meet again. "I'll have to fall back into old habits."

"You don't have to explain yourself," I replied calmly, tracing my thumb over his lower lip. "I know who you are and how you think."

"Are you sure about that?" he sighed, letting his body drop onto the bed beside me.

"What are you afraid of?"

"Getting stuck in old patterns and not finding my way out."

With my hands behind my head, I mulled over his words for a while. "We'll win, I know that. You and Clock have been doing this for centuries together; you know each other inside and out." I paused to look at him. "Similar to Belmont and me. The four of us together are unstoppable."

"And after that?" he muttered, leaning forward to unbutton my shirt and plant soft kisses across my stomach.

"We'll see when we get there. But I'm preparing to stay in France," I admitted, meeting his surprised gaze as he looked up at me.

"Would you agree to that?"

"Would it make you happy?" I countered.

He thought for a moment before nodding once and continuing to explore my skin with his lips.

"Then we'll stay," I whispered before my words were replaced by blissful moans. All I needed was him—every thought vanished, and the only thing that mattered was how happy he made me.