Wicked Soul (Ancient Blood #1)(111)

Aleric suppressed a grimace. He knew all too well what happened to the wretched souls who didn’t uphold their end of Zeth’s twisted bargains.

“Besides…” Zeth pulled on the limousine door, slamming it shut so Aleric had to jump back, though the tinted window was still rolled halfway down. “I’m all you have left now. I wonder, would your brother even care if something unfortunate should happen to you? Would he coming looking for you? Mayhap he would simply feel… relieved?”

Aleric gritted his teeth under Zeth’s defiant, golden gaze.

The black-haired vampire’s lips curved in a small smile. “I shall be in touch, Waldlitch. Do make sure you pick up the phone when I call.”

Aleric stared silently after the black limousine as it made its way down the driveway and out onto the road. He didn’t allow Zeth the satisfaction of seeing him press a hand to his chest where the torn bond with his brother jabbed painfully behind his ribs, saving the gesture for when the car had disappeared behind a hill.

Yes. He was alone now. All alone. The fury in Warin’s face had echoed through their bond so violently that Aleric could still feel the agony as his brother cut him off.

Through his eleven hundred years, he had never been alone before. Not truly. Warin had been there, through the death of their Sire, through every moment of every night. He’d been muted, since Thea’s death. Numb. But he’d been there.

Now there was nothing but pain. Pain, and a gaping hole threatening to swallow him up.

Aleric gritted his teeth and looked to the sky. Maybe… maybe if he could bring Zeth to his knees, Warin would find a way to forgive him.

One day.

It was only the faintest thread of hope, but it was all he needed. Zeth had to pay for what he’d done. The humiliation of running from a vampire several thousand years his juniors, and a newborn witchling, was not enough. It had to be… something more permanent.

Something that would render the ancient being incapable of extracting the debt he had manipulated from Aleric.

Aleric let the cool night air fill his senses and wash away the raw pain in his chest, suppressing it until it was only a dull, throbbing ache. There. Better.

And now… now it was time to locate a necromancer. Ideally so clueless they could be easily manipulated into doing his bidding… yet strong enough to make life miserable for a vampire as old as time.