From her case, Marlys retrieved a silver athame, a small metal bowl, a bundle of dried herbs, and two large gold rings. She dropped the rings into the bowl and set it between the men, gesturing for them to hold out their hands.

Gripping the athame, she made a clean slice in Dorian�s palm, then turned the blade and sliced Chernikov, gesturing for them to squeeze their blood onto the rings. Then, satisfied they�d spilled enough, she lifted the bowl above her head and began the chant, swirling the bowl until the rings were completely coated. The scent of Chernikov�s blood reminded Dorian of his recent demonic run-ins, memories that made him both hungry and nauseated.

All he wanted to do was leap across the table, wrap his hands around that awful snake tattoo, and throttle the asshole.

But until he could find the loophole in the Accords that would allow him to eradicate the demonic race from the top down, he had to play nice with men like Chernikov and the other syndicate leaders. Politics was a delicate dance�one he�d never quite mastered before his father�s death dumped the responsibility upon him. And despite his family�s waning power and the dark shadows that hovered over them�shadows that undermined his ultimate authority over the supernatural territories in this city and beyond�he had to at least attempt to fulfill his duties.

To live up to the crown his father had stolen all those centuries ago.

Chant complete, Marlys retrieved the rings from the bowl, passing one to each man, watching as they slid the bloody jewels over their fingers. The rings temporarily muted their natural powers, preventing Chernikov from setting Dorian�s balls on fire and Dorian from ripping off the demon�s head.

Win-win for all involved.

Rings in place, Marlys lit the herb bundle, sweeping it around the small room. Faint, purple smoke encased them in a shimmering screen�a magical soundproofing that would ensure only Dorian and Chernikov could hear their conversation, but Marlys could easily access them if the demon attempted to discard the muting ring and conjure hellfire.

The ritual was expensive and cumbersome, but when it came to drinking with one�s enemies, one could never be too cautious.

Spells complete, Marlys retreated to the doorway, and Chernikov poured two glasses of vodka, sliding one across the table to Dorian. There was no need for concern about the contents; vampires couldn�t be poisoned.

"To your father." Chernikov raised his glass. "May he find peace."

"In hell? Tough mission, Nikolai. Even for a king."

"Perhaps he has treasure map."

Dorian chuckled at the image of his father wandering the dark tunnels of hell with a map and a shovel, seeking his eternal chest of gold. But the smile didn�t last long; they had business to discuss, and it was time to get to it.

They both took a deep pull from their drinks. When they locked eyes again, Chernikov�s face turned serious.

"Apology is in order," he said, topping off their glasses from the bottle.

Dorian hadn�t expected the demand to come so quickly or so bluntly, and he tried to maintain his calm demeanor. "Nikolai, I assure you. I was unaware of their allegiance when�"

He held up a hand, cutting him off. "My men were in violation of the Shadow Accords, so you bled them. Is understandable. You know, I try to run an obedient organization, yet sometimes, there are cracks. They should not have been in your territory, let alone conducting business and attacking you."

Twice, Dorian thought, but kept that to himself.

"For that," Chernikov said, "you have my apologies, and my assurance that responsible parties have been� dealt with."

Dorian offered a slight bow of thanks, then took another drink, steeling himself. As much as he appreciated Chernikov accepting responsibility, there was no way the demon had invited him all the way out here just to eat crow.

It was several full minutes of sipping vodka and playing with their figurative cocks before Chernikov finally spoke again.

"We are not so different," he said, "the blood-drinkers and the dark ones."

"No?"

"We love our city. We drink. We fuck." He laughed, then raised his glass in another toast, his face turning somber once again. "And most important, we know the value of good friends." JrNovels.com