Pretty When She Destroys (Pretty When She Dies #3)(48)

Returning his gaze to the screen of his phone, Cian frowned. Since the gathering at Jeff’s broke up, the vampire had been fielding phone calls from his human contacts in regards to the fire at the apartment building, which one of Cian’s companies owned. The investigation into the fire was being dealt with, but the apartment building had taken major damage. Fortunately, no one had died, though a few people had been hospitalized.

Before their return home, he’d taken the time to feed, but she wondered if it had been enough. The death she had absorbed earlier had filled her, but Cian was dependent on blood.

“It was enough. Though I could always take a sip from you,” Cian answered her thoughts, his Irish brogue sending shivers over her skin.

“Stop reading my mind.”

He grinned roguishly at her.

At this point in all her previous relationships, Amaliya was already gone, or about to leave. Easily bored, she was usually annoyed and out of love with her partners after just a few months. Yet with Cian, she fell more deeply in love with him every night. Even just watching him dress for bed elicited feelings of happiness and desire inside her. Years of slave labor had hewn his body into lean muscle, and she found him immensely sexy. Happily, he found the few extra pounds on her hips alluring.

“Insanely so,” he said, obviously reading her mind.

She narrowed her eyes at him, then lifted them to the heavens. “Fuck me.”

“In a moment.” Cian finished texting someone, then set the phone on the charger.

“So why do you think we’ll win?” Amaliya extended her good arm outward as he climbed onto the bed. He slid under it, snuggling into her side, one arm over her waist.

“Because we can’t lose,” he said simply and kissed her.

“You’re argument is flawed.”

Careful of her wounded arm, he nuzzled her neck. “I outwitted him. You killed him. My daughter has one of his rings hidden. We’re ahead in the game. I promise.”

“Well, those are all valid points.” Turning her head, she caught his lower lip with her teeth. Immediately, their kiss grew a little more feral.

As the heavy metal shutters descended over the windows, Cian moved to straddle her.

“We don’t have much time until the sun is up,” Amaliya whispered against his lips.

“Then no more talking,” he answered, sliding down her body.

Twisting her fingers into his hair, Amaliya closed her eyes with pleasure and forgot about everything else but Cian’s tongue, lips and sharp teeth.




The Summoner, tucked into the delicate body of Bianca Leduc, listened to all the reports streaming in from all over the world. With only a short time before sunrise, he sat in the elegant opulence of the house Etzli had secured for them near downtown San Antonio in the King William Historic District. The old ballroom was still decorated in the elegant style of the turn of the former century, but modern contrivances like computers, phones, and work stations had been added. Etzli and her cabal were scattered about the room helping closely monitor the events of the night. Stark sat nearby, face tense, staring at his monitors. The hacker cast uneasy looks in The Summoner’s direction. The boy was wise to be afraid. His usefulness was short term and The Summoner just didn’t see him as worthy of the new world.

Years of preparation were producing positive results, but he had still been thwarted on several fronts. Again, Cian and his little cabal had repulsed The Summoner’s plans for Samantha.

This did not please him.

The Summoner had left Cian and his group to scramble about like rats on a sinking ship. He hadn’t been too concerned with them or the threat they posed to his plans. The discovery of the phasmagus had been unsettling, but The Summoner had found it intriguing that Cian’s old fiancée could wield an ancient power considered long extinct. He had to wonder if she’d always been a phasmagus, or if his beloved Amaliya had somehow transformed her. The attack on the phasmagus had been a test to see what she was capable of, and if she had been captured or killed, that would have been fine. The Summoner had never imagined that the assault would be rebuffed. This meant that Cian’s little group was much more powerful than he’d anticipated. It made the situation far more dangerous. Far more intriguing.

That did please him.

Etzli sat at a nearby desk, her tiny frame outfitted in a white pantsuit. Her dark hair was drawn chignon and diamond earrings sparkled in her ears as she spoke on her cellphone. The Summoner was quite pleased with his adopted daughter. She was efficient, trustworthy, and ruthless. Yet, The Summoner felt some dissatisfaction because Etzli was not Amaliya. His flesh, blood, and bones yearned for his lost child. His desire for Amaliya was now magnified by the need Bianca’s body felt for the lost necromancer. It was a bitter reality that he had been killed and forced to take residence within Bianca. If he could have had both of his beautiful fledgling necromancer vampires at his side during his conquest of the world, it would have been perfect. To see the blood of their enemies dripping off their flesh as they crushed their opposition would have been exquisite.

Instead, Amaliya was playing house with his wayward son, Cian, and The Summoner inhabited Bianca. Sometimes he felt the young medium stirring deep within him, but he kept her firmly under control. Her powers magnified his own magic. Until he could determine how to transfer himself into another host body and retain his full power, he would remain within her slender frame.