Blood Lust

Chapter 40

"Then take the whole fucking thing with you!"

Krista winced at the ear-splitting roar of outrage. Two specialists came bolting out of the office, barely avoiding the computer tower thrown at them. The monitor followed shortly after, and the entire machine hit the wall, leaving an impressive scar in the drywall and exploding into a thousand pieces.

She stood up with a heavy sigh, carefully stepped over the wreckage, reached into the office to grip the door handle, and closed the door again. "I told you not to bother him," she shook her head. "I have all the files he does."

"We- we're sorry, ma'am," the first said shakily, in a much politer tone than he'd first used with her. "We were just doing as the king commanded."

And what good did that do? She bit back the response and resisted another weary sigh. Crouching down, she fished the two hard drives out of the remains and handed them over. "If you can't recover the files, just come talk to me before doing anything else. I have enough on my hands right now, and I don't need you two morons making it worse."

They nodded, took the hard drives with their heads bowed like they were accepting an offering from a goddess, and practically ran back to the elevators. Krista looked down at the rest of the debris. She really wasn't in the mood to sweep it up, and it would make for a good warning to the next idiot who thought it would be a good idea to disturb Nolan Wes while he was in a rage.

He'd been like this since his meeting with Constantine the day before and showed no signs of calming down. How could he? He'd been humiliated in front of two Counsel members and General Corvus. His authority had been stripped, and his judgment was being second-guessed. All things that they had been trying to avoid since they learned that the infamous alpha king was in Paris.

Of course, she'd gotten her own lecture from the king the same day. Constantine had been in his own blinding rage, one that could only be brought on by Nolan's insubordination. Had it not been for her personal relationship and just how long she had worked for the two lunk-head leaders of her species, she probably would have been fired for her role in this mess.

Oh, for the simpler days when she was human. Not easier. Oh, hell no, her life had not been easy by any means. There was nothing easy about being the daughter of a tavern owner in the Elizabethan Era. With no money and the wrong anatomical parts for a proper education, she learned to recognize the value of a coin by sight and touch and could judge the honesty of a patron by the weight and sound of their coin purse. She served rot-ale to the lower working class like her father, fended off drunken advances, and, like every other girl, dreamt of the days a fictional prince would sweep her off her feet.

She was certainly swept off her feet, that's for sure. Not by a prince, but a king. The vampire king. He'd disguised himself in glamour, coming across as a gorgeous blonde with mahogany eyes and a voice so musical, the birds fell silent to listen.

For all his faults, the first vampire had a great capacity for tenderness and affection. He courted Krista with all the sweet words and gifts that would be expected of a king and then ravaged her body with the scandalous actions of a notorious rake. He taught her to read and write and explained the math she had always done naturally in her head. He revealed his true self and confessed his love to her under a blanket of stars. She was ready to be turned. To be lifted out of poverty and be his queen. It was truly something out of a fantasy.

But this was the real world, and the moment Luna reappeared, the fantasy ended. In what she would later learn was a regular occurrence, he chose the dragon. His one and only love. Leaving Krista with a broken heart, a ruined reputation, and no prospects for the future.

That was where Nolan came in. He'd barely said a word to her in the time she'd been with Constantine, and she had been sure he hated her. Instead, he'd wiped away her tears and taken her to his modest home, where his wife welcomed her with a sad, knowing smile, and his young daughter babbled in a broken mix of Russian and English.