"Christ," Niko said. "It must be pure torture for her."
"Yes," Alexei agreed, not bothering to conceal his light tone. "I'm quite sure it is."
Nikolai didn't miss the smile on the younger Yakut's lean face. "You enjoy that she suffers?"
Alexei grunted. "I couldn't care less. Renata is unsuitable for the role my father has given her. She 's ineffective as his bodyguard - a risk I fear might yet get him killed one day. If I were in his place, I wouldn't hesitate to turn her out on her haughty ass."
"But you're not in your father's place," Niko reminded him, if only because Alexei seemed overly eager to imagine it. The vampire stared at Niko in silence for a long, awkward time. Then he cleared his throat and spat on the ground. "Finish your search, warrior. If you find anything at all of interest, you will inform me at once."
Nikolai merely stared back at Yakut's son, wordlessly daring the civilian to command his promise. Alexei didn't press it, just pivoted slowly on his heel and marched back in the direction of the lodge.
Chapter Six
Renata quietly opened the door to Mira's room and peered inside at the sleeping child who rested peacefully on the bed. Just a normal little girl in pink pajamas, her soft cheek lying against the thin pillow, breath puffing rhythmically out of her delicate cherub's mouth. On the rustic little table next to the bed lay the short black veil that shielded Mira's remarkable eyes at all times when she was awake.
"Sweet dreams, angel," Renata whispered low under her breath, hopeful words.
She worried about Mira more and more lately. It wasn't just the nightmares that had set in after the attack she'd witnessed but Mira's overall health that concerned Renata the most. Even though the girl was strong, her mind quick and sharp, she wasn't well.
Mira was rapidly losing her sight.
Each time she was made to exercise her gift of precognitive reflection, some of her own eyesight deteriorated. It had been fading steadily for months before Mira had confided in Renata about what was happening to her. She was afraid, as any child would be. Perhaps more so, because Mira was wise beyond her eight years of age. She understood that her value to Sergei Yakut would evaporate the moment the vampire deemed her of no more use to him. He would cast her out, perhaps even put her to death if it pleased him.
So on that night, Renata and Mira had made a pact: They would keep Mira's condition a secret between them - take it to the grave, if need be. Renata had taken the promise one step further, vowing to Mira that she would protect her with her life. She swore no harm would ever come to her, not from Yakut or from anyone else, human or Breed. Mira would be safe from the pain and darkness of life in a way that Renata herself had never known.
That the girl had been trotted out to entertain Sergei Yakut's uninvited guest tonight only added to Renata's current irritated state. The worst of her psychic reverb had passed, but a headache still lingered at the edges of her senses. Her stomach hadn't yet stopped pitching. Small waves of nausea lapped at her like a slowly receding tide.
Renata closed Mira's door, shivering a little with the roll of another body tremor. The long bath she'd just come from had helped ease some of her discomfort, but even beneath her loose-fitting graphite-colored yoga pants and soft white cotton jersey, her skin still tingled, raw with the crackling electricity that swam underneath her skin.
Renata rubbed her palms over the sleeves of her shirt, trying to chase away some of the fiery sensation still traveling along her arms. Too wired for sleep, she stopped by her own room only long enough to retrieve a small cache of blades from her weapons trunk. Training always proved a welcome outlet for her restlessness. She relished the hours of physical punishment she inflicted on herself, glad for the rigorous training exercises that wore her out, toughened her up.
Since the terrible night she found herself plunged into Sergei Yakut's dangerous world, Renata had honed every muscle in her body to its peak condition, worked slavishly to make sure that she was as sharp and lethal as the weapons she carried in the silk- and-velvet wrapper now clutched in her hand.
Survive.
That simple guiding thought had been her beacon from the time she was a child - even younger than Mira. And so alone. An orphan abandoned in the chapel of a Montreal convent, Renata had no past, no family, no future. She existed; no more than that. And for Renata, it had been enough. It was enough, even now. Especially now, navigating the treacherous underworld of Sergei Yakut's realm. There were enemies all around her in this place, both hidden and overt. Countless ways for her to misstep, to misspeak. Endless opportunities for her to displease the ruthless vampire who held her life in his hands and end up bleeding and dying. But never without a fight.
Her mantra from her early childhood days served her just as aptly here: Survive another day. Then another, and another.
There was no room for softness in that equation. No allowances for pity or shame or love. Especially not love, not in any form. Renata knew that her affection for Mira - the nurturing impulse that made her want to smooth the way for the child, to protect her like her own kin - was probably going to cost her dearly in the end.
Sergei Yakut had wasted little time exploiting that weakness in her; Renata had the scars to prove it.
But she was strong. She'd been dealt nothing in this life that she could not bear, physical or otherwise. She had survived it all. Sharp and strong, lethal when she had to be.
Renata stepped outside the lodge and strode through the darkness to one of the peripheral outbuildings in back. The hunter who'd originally built the woodland compound had evidently doted on his dogs. An old timber kennel stood behind the main residence, laid out like a stable, with a wide space cutting down the center and four gated pens lining each side. The open-beam roof overhead peaked some fifteen feet high.
Although small, it was an open, airy space. There was a larger, newer barn on the property that would allow for better movement, but Renata tended to avoid the other building.>Human blood?
He dragged in another breath, sifting the taste of it through his teeth, over the sensitive glands of his tongue. It was definitely blood, and definitely human. Not very much had been spilled on the other side of the door, and by the faint tickle it put in his nostrils, he judged it to be long dried and aging probably several months or more. He couldn't be certain unless he had a look inside.
Curious now, he palmed the big lock and was about to yank it loose when the snap of a twig behind him drew his attention. As he turned to meet the noise, he reached for one of his guns - and cursed to remember that Yakut was still holding all of his weapons.
He looked up to find Alexei glaring at him from where he stood at the corner of the barn. Judging by the contempt sparking in his eyes, it appeared his bruised pride hadn't yet recovered from their confronation in the city. Not that Niko cared. He had little use for strutting dickhead civilians, especially those with entitlement issues and delicate egos.
"You got a key for this lock?" he asked, his hand still curved around the cold lump of reinforced steel. If he wanted to, being Breed, he could tear the thing loose with a flex of his wrist. Cleaner still, he could flex his mind and open the lock with a mental command. But it was more interesting to piss in Alexei's direction for the time being. "You mind opening this door, or maybe you need to get permission from your papa first."
Alexei grunted at the barb, arms folded over his chest. "Why should I open it for you? There's nothing of interest in there. It's just a storage barn. Empty besides."