He hadn’t even knocked.
And he looked exceedingly pleased with himself as he came into the room dressed no more formally than Max himself, in trousers and an untucked shirt. Vioget never went about in such dishabille. He likely thought he’d not long be attired at all.
Fully aware of Vioget’s penchant for carriage seductions, Max couldn’t keep his mouth closed. “You’re a bit out of your element, Vioget. There’s not a carriage in the vicinity.”
He had to give the man credit; he eclipsed his shock almost immediately. “What are you doing here?”
“Likely the same as you,” Max replied smoothly, sinking into the chair in the corner. “Responding to our ladyship’s beck and call. Unless you weren’t beckoned and are calling uninvited?”
“I was referring to your presence in London, not in this chamber,” Vioget responded.
Max looked away. Bloody damned good question. If he’d leave, Victoria would have no choice but to be with Vioget.
Now that she wasn’t drinking from the little blue bottle.
He eyed Vioget with a mixture of loathing and candor. For all the man’s faults, Max knew Sebastian cared for Victoria and would protect the woman who feared little and needed no protection-at least, overt protection.
If only Max would get out of his way and allow him to do what both men wanted Vioget to do.
“She attended a ball without an escort last evening,” Max said. “And left with none other than George Starcasset. Perhaps if you were a bit more attentive, I could leave you to your courtship.”
Vioget’s fist tightened, and for a moment, Max thought he might use it. His glance flickered down to the clenched fingers, then back up to meet Vioget’s eyes. Yes.
Just then, he heard the quiet scuff of bare feet and the soft swish of clothing. Victoria entered the chamber, fresh from her bath. Her face flushed from the heat, her eyes bright, she brought in a waft of something spicy and exotic. She was properly clothed in a neck-to-floor robe. Only her bare toes peeked out, and in light of the fact that both Max and Vioget had seen-touched, tasted-considerably more than those slender digits, it seemed ridiculous to focus on that immodest display.
“Ah, so you’re both here. Good.” She sat on the edge of her bed, high enough off the ground that her feet didn’t quite touch. “I’m sorry for bringing you in here, but there was no other place for us to talk. Wayren is in the parlor, and I didn’t want to disturb her… and Brim and Michalas are sleeping on the floor in the kalari room. The house isn’t large enough to accommodate so many people.” She raised her chin, as if challenging him to argue that they could have met in the dining room, or… somewhere. Else.
In the most surreal moment of his life, Max realized he was about to have a strategy meeting with Victoria and Vioget in her bedchamber.
Someday, perhaps, he would find it amusing.
“Brim and Michalas aren’t invited?” he drawled. “What a shame.” Her hair fell in a dark cascade over one of her shoulders, and he remembered her scream as the clawed demon had lifted her by the scalp.
Victoria looked at him, and hell if there wasn’t a glaze of smugness in her expression. “I apologize for the informality of the accommodations, Max,” she said. “I realize you’d prefer to be anywhere but here.”
Bull’s-eye.
She turned to Vioget, who’d selected the chair in front of the dressing table, turning it to face the rest of the room. “How is your leg?”
“Verbena assisted Kritanu, and I do believe that between their efforts, I’ll be able to retain that limb, at least.” Vioget’s smile held a bit of self-deprecation, and Max’s attention flickered to the man’s left hand-which was missing two knuckles of his little finger, thanks to a particularly bloodthirsty woman named Sara Regalado.
“I never doubted that,” Victoria said, shifting on the edge of the bed. The hem of her robe gapped a bit, revealing a slice of the gown beneath it.
Max recognized it. Unfortunately. The fabric was the same pale lilac as the lacy, satin-skirted night rail she’d been wearing the last time he’d ventured into her chamber. The one that left little to the imagination, as the bodice was made purely of lace. At the time, he’d complained, telling her to cover up the ghastly gown… but he suspected in retrospect that she’d realized it wasn’t because of the design that he’d insisted. Hell.
“Perhaps I should take a look at it, Sebastian. Just to make certain,” Victoria was saying. She leaned forward, and the front of her robe gapped a bit, giving a hint of shadow and textured lace.
“Perhaps we could get to the matter at hand,” Max said crisply. “Then I can excuse myself and the two of you can examine each other’s injuries to your hearts’ content.”
He found it a bit more difficult to sound bored and annoyed today. And when Vioget gave him an arch look, Max merely ignored the smugness in his face.
It really would be best if he took himself away and disappeared. For good.
At least then he’d not have such trouble making decisions. And sticking to them.
Victoria drew the edges of her robe closed and straightened in her position. Her face grew serious. “I spoke with Brim before he went to sleep-his injuries were very severe, but he’ll be all right. Thank you, Sebastian.” She glanced at Vioget, who raised a brow at Max.
“Pesaro got there first. Credit where it’s due. Shall we?”
“Of course. Max.” She nodded at him, and he recognized a decided frost in her eyes.
Good, she was still annoyed with him. Best to keep it that way.
“Brim agreed with me that there has never been any kind of attack like this, that we know of. However, when he and Michalas were in Paris just before coming here, they had been investigating a rise in demonic activity. And there was, from one source, the report of an eerie black cloud forming over a cemetery.”
Brim and Michalas had left off their investigation in order to assist Victoria to foil Lilith’s plot to kill the king a few weeks ago.
Max straightened. His mind had moved from frivolous matters like lacy lilac night rails and on to more important topics. And he didn’t like where his thoughts led. “Wayren’s divine powers were rendered useless by those demons,” he said. “If we hadn’t gotten there in time, she may have been destroyed. She was in Paris before she came here,” he added meaningfully.
Victoria looked at him. “I suspect that’s what they were after.”
“Of course.” He let the impatience thread his voice. “That must mean-”
“There’s something greater afoot. Demons rising.”
Their eyes met, and Max felt an uncomfortable stirring in the pit of his belly. Vampires were a serious enough problem, but an uprising of demons-great numbers of them released from the pits of Hell-would annihilate both mortals and undead. Demons-angels who had fallen from grace long ago-and vampires were immortal enemies, just as mortals and vampires were.
Max and Victoria had faced demons in the past-one or two at a time, and of the lower rungs of power. But the demonic activity in the cemetery tonight had been like nothing else: smarter, sharper, more dangerous than Akvan or even Lilith.
“Wayren understands the strength and power of demons better than anyone. Of course they would attempt to incapacitate her before surging to power. Unless she was their target.”
“But where are they coming from?” asked Vioget, who’d been watching the two of them. “Demons cannot just rise from Hell. They have to be released. Somehow, somewhere.”
“Not by Lilith,” Victoria said, glancing at Max.
He stifled a snort even as an uncomfortable shiver rippled under his skin. “Of course not. Lilith would never consort with demons. She hates them.”
“But she asked you to destroy Akvan’s Obelisk, knowing that it would call him back to earth,” Vioget said pointedly.
“One mere demon is of no consequence to Lilith. And Akvan was little more than a thug. These… these are different. A whole different caliber of evil.”