Surprise and then admiration danced over David’s features as he realized what she’d be doing and the big fuck you it sent to reply right when the Vampires she’d be addressing would be sucked into daytime rest before they could mount any sort of reaction.

  They thought they could fuck around and now they were going to find out.

  * * *

  Rowan wrote an email with her thoughts on the Nation’s response, and sent it to all the relevant parties before she did anything official. Celesse in Paris, France. Susan in London, England. And their two newest Hunters promoted to full partner, Adaeze in Kano, Nigeria, and Ant from St. Petersburg, Russia. The earlier trouble within Hunter Corp. had been exacerbated by some partners acting unilaterally. They made choices together when dealing with important matters now.

  After a series of emails back and forth, they decided to issue their response from London instead of Las Vegas. It separated it from Rowan and said it came from Hunter Corp. officially.

  Vampires were all about appearances. On the other hand, her foster father—the most powerful Vampire on the planet—would pout at losing that access he totally thought he had a right to because of their relationship. But that also underlined that this was not a Theo and Rowan issue, but a Nation and Hunter Corp. problem.

  We do what we want. We don’t need permission.

  They had to play a game anyway so they might as well give as good as they got.

  Chapter Three

  As Genevieve walked through the halls of the Conclave building, she let her power unfurl like royal raiment. A cape of warm, heady energy that pushed out from her body.

  That day Genevieve had chosen all white, from the slim trousers to the double-breasted cape-sleeved blazer and sleeveless blouse. The only color came from her scarlet, sky-high pumps and the rubies strewn across a diamond pin tucked into her hair. Darius had given her the antique beauty that morning before they’d left Las Vegas.

  She wasn’t entirely certain how, but wearing it had added to her power. Had marked her in a way that said to everyone she’d ascended to a new level. It suited the rubies she wore at her ears and wrists. It said power in another way. It said money and influence. She was rich in spells, rich in magic, rich in talent and connections and in this place bound by centuries of hierarchy and tradition, it was the most valuable type of currency.

  See me. Not a request. Not a question. At seven hundred years old and a Genetic witch, she’d earned her place in the upper-echelon leadership of the body that governed practitioners—magic users—worldwide.

  Each component was a piece of armor. Combining not to say power, but to radiate it like a pulse. They were all predators of a type in this wing of the Senate. She wanted their continued support of her investigation. Wanted their certainty she would succeed.

  Needed to show those who may have used her in the past that she was far beyond their reach now and should they ever attempt to repeat their prior ill treatment, she would crush them.

  At the head of the table stood the leader of the Conclave. Konrad Aubert was a thousand years old but appeared to be in his late thirties. Though he currently wore a suit, he seemed equally at ease dressed in gleaming, bespelled armor. Lush caramel-colored hair swept back from a brutally handsome face and brown eyes that missed absolutely nothing.

  Those eyes currently held open approval of her little display of strength.

  Before she could reach her father though, another man stopped, blocking her path.

  “Genevieve?”

  She looked him over and though he was vaguely familiar, she couldn’t place him. “Yes?”

  He beamed at her and then bowed. “I’m Hugo Procella. We met several years ago. I’ve wanted to set up a time to speak with you to regarding some issues my family would like addressed.”

  Ah.

  Samaya stepped to her side and slightly shielded Genevieve with her body. “Mr. Procella, your request has been submitted through official channels. If you’d like to take a meeting with Senator Aubert, you may contact her office.”

  He didn’t even look at Samaya much less bother to thank her. Genevieve took that knowledge and tucked it away. How someone treated those in service for one reason or another said everything about that person.

  “Perhaps you’d allow me to take you to dinner while you’re here. Or in Las Vegas. My family has a house there you’d enjoy,” Hugo said.

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Genevieve told him and stepped to move around him.

  Hugo followed, continuing to block her progress. “I assure you, it’s not just about business.”

  This entire situation made her grumpy and uncomfortable. Embarrassed for this witch who didn’t want to understand what was going on.

  “You’re blocking my path, Mr. Procella. I’ve given you my answer. You have submitted the proper paperwork and when I have a moment, I’ll look at it.”

  “But you haven’t given me your private number so I can call you,” he said, trying at flirtation.

  Genevieve reared back slightly but it was Zara who’d approached this time, pausing at the opposite side from Samaya, both forming a defensive line.

  “It’s time for you to move along,” Samaya said, her tone gone entirely cool and flat.

  “This has nothing to do with you,” Hugo said, his eyes never leaving Genevieve.

  “Your rudeness does not go unnoticed,” Genevieve said, giving him nothing but no. “You’ve been told what will—and won’t—happen. If you haven’t been told something, you may assume the answer is no on that as well.”

  He ducked his head a little. Artfully playing at remorse. She knew her lip was curled and made no effort to smooth her expression.

  “Have dinner with me. Without business talk. You and I, Genevieve, we would make a fine couple.”

  “No, thank you. I’m involved with someone.” At that, she gathered up her magic and pulled it around Samaya, Zara, and herself. It created a sort of energy buffer that would give a painful electrical zap if one got too close.

  It backed him up immediately. Samaya sent a look to the guard at the door and then back to Hugo Procella.

  When he saw the guards approach, he seemed to pull all that weird energy he’d been spilling back into himself. “I do like a challenge,” he said before leaving.

  “What a creep,” Samaya muttered.

  Genevieve noted her father coming toward them, concern on his face.

  Samaya and Zara moved to the table to take their seats.

  “What was that all about?” he asked Genevieve.

  She gave him a brief rundown on the situation and the gossip about Clare, Sansbury, and Salazar working together to demolish the rules protecting humans and the possible connection to whatever the Procella family might want. She hesitated over telling him about the way Hugo had come on to her, but held it back because it felt strange to say so when she’d handled it herself.

  They spoke briefly about her working with Hunter Corp. She’d taken the biggest issue between the Conclave and Hunter Corp. off the table when she’d assigned herself to Hunter Corp. as a liaison. She would not draw a salary from HC, so her motives would never be in question on that front. It had eased objections the way she’d hoped it would though some still were opposed because they didn’t like depending on outside actors or anything new of any type.

  “I had not imagined Hunter Corp. to be such an ally, but I can see the reasons for it. You have my support in the direction you’re attempting to take the Conclave in,” he told her quietly, but not so softly others wouldn’t hear.

  She lowered her chin slightly in thanks. He should, of course, support what she was doing. He’d been a warrior the entirety of his life. Few understood the way he had, the real danger to them if they did not pay attention to their enemies within. Konrad Aubert was a warlock. A warrior who used magic as a weapon in defense and protection of his people. Lore said he’d fought his first battle at just twelve. Accurate or not—and to be sure, the world a thousand years before held plenty of twelve-year-olds on battlefields—he’d been a fighter for centuries.

  Witches needed to operate at high security because someone was always trying to kill them.

  Three bells sounded to officially open the meeting. The Recorder would take minutes while Konrad would chair.

  Unlike the general Senate meetings, committee meetings like this one were far less prone to endless peacocking and delay via the hefty tome of rules they operated by.

  And yet, she found herself repressing a curled lip of distaste at the sight of her ex-husband. Tristan had seated himself at her right. Gaius was on Samaya’s right, looking very smart in a charcoal-toned suit, his dark blond hair cut expertly to frame his handsome face.

  “I was attempting to explain to Tristan that he was in Samaya’s place,” Gaius told Genevieve.

  Genevieve remained standing, towering over Tristan. She repeated what Gaius had just told her. “That’s Samaya’s seat.”

  “I’m a Senator. She’s an assistant,” Tristan said.

  “You’re not on this committee. You’re a guest. Guests sit there.” She pointed.

  It wouldn’t do to argue with him. He wanted engagement. Wanted to force her to interact. Outside of those moments when it was absolutely unavoidable, she never gave him one single extra syllable.

  “There’s someone in your office,” he burst out, exasperated, but he did give the chair to Samaya, who rolled her eyes behind his back.

  Darius was no secret. There were rampant rumors about her in the paranormal world since she’d become the priestess for the Trick. The Sansburys liked to consider themselves royalty of the Conclave like it was still seventeenth-century Europe instead of the modern world. They had power and influence. But theirs wasn’t the only type anymore.

  Genevieve amused herself imagining Tristan trying to get anything from Darius.

  “You knew this?” He left the end of the sentence hanging, clearly expecting to be informed of who it was. And if Darius hadn’t told him, she had no plans to.

  “Did you need something from my office?” she asked, knowing full well he was desperately trying to engage her and get details.

  “I merely wanted to be certain there hadn’t been a security breach,” Tristan said, trying hard for earnest. And failing.

  Rowan would have said something like as if, but Genevieve sent Tristan a bland smile that said absolutely nothing at all. It was more than he deserved. He most certainly had no business whatsoever in her office, especially since his family was apparently stirring trouble.

  “Who is it?” Tristan asked right as a single bell rang. No more side talking. It was all business from then on out or she’d get a dressing-down from her father in front of everyone.

  Genevieve turned and settled in her seat. At her left, Samaya, a spritely blonde with a pixie cut wearing a herringbone suit that flattered her pale skin and blue eyes. At her right Zara, long and lean, her hair close cropped to expose the lines of her face, including the tiny gold ring in her nose. Deep brown skin, utterly perfect posture, and a coral-toned jumpsuit completed the look.

  Genevieve knew they made a picture. Optics, they called it. Another piece of the armor.

  Konrad opened the meeting and handed it to Genevieve and she laid out all that had been done in the aftermath of so many kidnappings and deaths of their fellow witches.

  “To date, one hundred and ninety two witches have been reported missing. The most recent two as of earlier today.” The number staggered her. It grew weekly. So many grieving families and friends. So many communities trying to get through the loss of one of their own.

  And now this troubling rise in humans who were going missing in the same area the witches had. Was there a connection? It seemed far more than mere coincidence.

  Genevieve concluded, “The picture changes regularly due to all the information coming in. Each step leads to another. Our investigation is ongoing. There are still leaks within the Conclave.”

  “It would be easier not to talk to your back,” Tristan said. “You have no proof there are more leaks.”

  “Good god, man, do shut up,” a Senator from across the table said.

  “I didn’t ask your opinion either,” Tristan said.

  “I am chairing this meeting. You do not have the power to challenge the topic or who speaks on it,” Genevieve said. “I’ve asked you several questions you continue to avoid answering. So now let us revoke that question and you can close your mouth.”

  Ever predictable, at her back she heard his intake of breath as he was about to say something and she tapped her thumb against her other fingers in a shut-up motion. Her magic pushed slightly, closing his mouth and preventing him from uttering a word.

  Well. That was new. She hadn’t even meant to use magic but it had obeyed her wish to shut Tristan up regardless.

  There was a pause as the room digested that. As they witnessed the leap in her power level that marked her as the second-most-powerful being in the room. Genevieve didn’t want to pull too much from the Trick, but the magic had been easy, not even a minor dip into her energy reserves.

  That satisfied her a great deal.

  Konrad looked to her, pride in his features. Unhidden, which left her a little off-balance. She smiled at him for a flash before she went back to speaking.

  “You can either leave or remain and obey the rules of the meeting and the laws of basic civility. There are no other options.” With that said, Genevieve flicked her fingers and let Tristan speak.

  “What I meant,” Tristan said carefully, “was those witches were caught. They were punished. We must move on. To continue this folly where we have hundreds of missing witches and more weekly is intrusive. This cannot be our entire identity.”

  “More of a comment than a question,” Zara said. “Are you suggesting we abandon pursuing justice and closure for the loved ones of these missing witches? Because...it’s disruptive?”

  Tristan said, “It is disruptive. Senators feel as if they’re under a magnifying glass. Every aspect of their lives under scrutiny. There’s no evidence there are any more guilty parties left. It is difficult enough to go on after the tumult of the last months. There is no need to rehash or invent new villains.”

  “Your viewpoints have been recorded. Moving to the next item,” Genevieve said and gave an overview of where they were at. Tristan wasn’t the only Senator who thought they were doing too much, so she was as transparent as possible while protecting the integrity of their investigation.

  For a while, he made noise at her back, squirming and sighing, but he managed not to speak. She’d forgotten how petulant he could be when he didn’t get his way.

  It went fairly quickly after that and she finished up, satisfied she’d done all she could. She’d eased some minds and hopefully that would result in more support.

  “I’ll keep this committee updated. If you have any legitimate concerns or questions, please don’t hesitate to contact one of us or our offices.” Genevieve waited for the three bells to sound and shot to her feet, neatly avoiding Tristan as she did. She’d been neatly avoiding men she loathed for centuries now. It was second nature.

  Darius opened her office door to admit her as the light from the windows at his back lit him like a holy statue.

  The beauty of him caught her up, stealing her breath and coordination for a few moments.

  On her way past, he pressed a courtly kiss to her temple. The heat it left raced over her skin, as sensuous and intimate as most other sexual acts she’d experienced.

  She hummed her pleasure and then did once more when she noted the low table in an adjoining conversation area, full of food.

  “Madame Lorraine delivered a meal less than five minutes ago. She repeated her threats of violence should you not eat what she has sent for you to eat,” he told her, amusement in his tone. “There’s a male witch in the hall who keeps looking over here. Shall I wave, or throw a knife through his left eye?” Not so much amusement that time.

  Cutting off that direct line of sight, Genevieve stepped to the door and closed it without giving Tristan a glance. “I know which of those I’d prefer, but we’ll do neither instead. Come, share a meal with me.”

  He bowed his head slightly.

  “Dust Devils are very good at body disposal. For future reference,” he said as he placed a linen napkin over her pants before seating himself across from her.

  “I will endeavor to keep that in mind,” she told him with a smile. “Thank you,” she said of the cloth on her lap.

  “You look like an angel of vengeance today,” he said with a slight shrug. “A stain from the food would mute that.”

  That and he just...took care of her. It was as wonderful as it was confounding. She wasn’t used to it, and he was...well, so scary and gruff most of the time but to her he was this. Gentler. Softer. So very sexy.

  “Tell me who the male was who attempted to come in until he noticed I was here. The one out in the hall just now. He demanded to know who I was. I told him you weren’t in and therefore he needed to leave.”

  Demanded? And he was walking without a limp? “I’m sure he took that well,” she said.

  “I closed the door in his face. He didn’t knock or try to come in again. He took nothing. Left nothing. I would not have allowed it.”

  “I’m sorry to have missed that,” Genevieve said as she tried not to snicker and failed. “That’s Tristan Sansbury. Another Senator. He’s a fool.” She would have waved a hand, but she was busy eating the garlicky chicken and rice Lorraine had outdone herself with.

  “What’s he to you?”

  There were times over the last weeks, since she’d become a priestess to a Trick of Dust Devils, where she’d been confronted with just exactly how other Darius was. He was in her business constantly. He’d declared she needed a guard with her at all times and most of those times it was Darius who’d filled that job. He opened her doors and pulled her chair out, took the lids off things, and carried heavy items. He didn’t so much glare at other males who gave her attention that was of an intimate nature, it was more like he let the other men see just a part of what he truly was. Either way, there was a marking of territory that was...timeless in the sense of very powerful beings at the top of the food chain.