Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 116408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
But Philippe laughed, a light and dancing sound. “Oh, I have. I assure you that only half of them have come as protection against you and your dangerous Lola.” He sat down on the bench, appearing to be perfectly at ease with gazing up at Rafe.
“And the other half?”
Philippe’s smile seemed to sharpen. Something hardened in Philippe’s eyes. “For the trouble that follows the Varik clan.”
Yes, Philippe had a point.
With a blink, the sharpness disappeared, and Philippe touched the open space next to him on the bench. Rafe took it as the subtle invitation it was and sat as well, keeping a comfortable two feet of empty space between them.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Lola take a few steps back and the other vampires seemed to slowly shift. They were closing rank, moving carefully to block the open doorway so that no one would see who was in the center of the room. Rafe didn’t truly feel threatened. Philippe wanted privacy for their meeting, but they both knew that Rafe would never have stepped foot on Arsenault grounds, and Rafe didn’t expect Philippe to come to him. The neutral ground of The Gallery was the best they could manage.
“My brothers and I would like to formally thank you for your assistance with the Black Wolf clan last month,” Rafe said.
He’d been partially surprised by the appearance of Jullien Arsenault when Bel and Ethan had rushed to their rescue. Jullien had been a regular at Rafe’s clubs for years. They were little more than nodding acquaintances, but if Rafe had been killed, then Jullien would have one less place to spend his long evenings.
“I will admit I’ve been an avid follower of Marcus’s encounters with the Ministry over the years. He’s quite the brilliant and passionate figure when it comes to the protection of his family. It’s fascinating to hear him speak.”
Rafe knew he should be focused on the fact that Arsenault had been following the exploits of his family, but his ego was more rankled over the praise of his older brother.
“I’m sorry Marcus could not speak to you in person and was rather forced to send his feckless younger brother,” Rafe said, more sharply than he meant to.
A flash of pain and surprise filled Philippe’s face, and the other vampire reached out across the two empty feet. He stopped himself before the tips of his fingers could graze the soft material of Rafe’s jacket, as if suddenly coming to himself.
“No, I’m the one who is sorry. I meant no insult. Only to explain my reasoning for sending Jullien to assist your clan. I believe the Variks and Arsenaults have a similar view of our world. I only wanted to see that voice protected, particularly from the cold violence of the Black Wolf clan.”
“Thank you,” Rafe said stiffly.
Philippe opened his mouth to say something more but seemed to think better of it and closed it again without making a sound. His smile grew rueful, and he looked back up at the paintings in front of him.
Rafe continued to stare at Philippe curiously. The vampire was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans that looked as if they’d be so very soft to the touch. The bulky cream-colored cable-knit sweater had a slightly stretched collar, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin from his long, graceful neck to his collarbone. His attire only added to his youthful and innocent look, but Rafe was not fooled. Attracted? Yes, definitely. But Rafe had a rule about letting his dick lead him to older and more powerful vampires.
In fact, it was one of his only rules.
Don’t fuck with older vampires.
It was better when the rules were few and simple.
“Politics will always be the realm of Marcus. He’s got more of a stomach for it,” Rafe admitted, inwardly praying he wasn’t shooting himself in the foot, but rather steering Philippe to contact Marcus directly.
“Understandable. I don’t have much of a stomach for it myself.”
“Would that be why so little is known about the Arsenault clan?”
Philippe chuckled. “You profess to have no stomach for politics, but your comments are so diplomatic.”
Rafe smirked. “There’s a difference between not having a stomach for it and not being skilled at it.”
“Too true.”
“And you still didn’t answer my question.”
Philippe looked over at Rafe, a playful gleam in his eye. “You’re not the only one with a few skills.” He cleared his throat and continued. “It’s in the best interests of the Arsenault clan that we don’t draw too much attention. We are…private.”
“You would get along very well with Marcus,” Rafe muttered. His older brother would prefer it if the Variks were forever out of the notice of the Ministry and the other clans. But Rafe was sure he was the exact opposite of Marcus, and now Philippe. Disappointing.
“But despite my preference for privacy, I realize that it is also in the best interests of my clan to have an ally.”