Kyra
Kyra was good at compartmentalizing.
After her coffee date with Derek, she went back to her apartment. She spent an hour studying, not only so she could pass the class, but so that she’d have something to talk about if Derek asked again.
She put all thoughts of wolf shifters, Alphas, and pack dynamics out of her mind. Most of all, she refused to think of Derek, which was tough at first, because she was aroused. She stripped her clothes off to get rid of his smell. He’d smelled like fresh balsam wood to her, and she knew she’d never be able to concentrate if she could detect even a hint of it.
She rinsed off in the shower, letting the hot water slide over her body. Her hand slipped between her legs, but she wasn’t going to indulge. If she touched herself and thought of Derek, she’d end up a boneless heap on the floor, unable to refocus and get anything else done for the rest of the evening.
As soon as she was done, she drove straight to the coven. It was 9:30 p.m., and the sun was just beginning to set, something that displeased Victor. The vampires didn’t burn up in the sun, but they were photosensitive and didn’t like the way it felt. Spring and summer in Alaska were going to be an unpleasant place for all of them.
She didn’t bother knocking but barged right in. The vampires had every light turned off, and the entire place was bathed in candlelight, which they didn’t really need because they had perfect night vision.
Victor was playing the piano while wearing a tailored Victorian suit. She’d tried to get him to update his wardrobe, but he said the fabrics from 1905 were better made, and she gave up. She’d learned if she mentioned it too much, he’d get nostalgic about some of the tailors from the past five hundred years, and she’d have to hear about vests, the various types of coats, and hats. Right then, there was only one topic she wanted to discuss.
“We were not expecting you,” Victor said.
“I had to come. I learned a few things,” she said. “The old Alpha – the one that let my father die, is dead."
She waited to see his reaction, but Victor’s facial expression didn’t change. But then it never did. He remained a picture of cool detachment at all times.
“Are you going to say anything?” she demanded.
“What is there to say? The pack is a hive mind. They all believe the same things. Each Alpha is interchangeable with another.”
That was what she’d thought he’d say, but she had to make sure. “Okay. But how did we miss this? It happened fifteen years ago.” She did the calculations. “It must have been right after my father was exiled.”
“That would make sense,” he said. “And we were far away at the time.” Victor's hand landed on her arm. "Do not lose focus. The Alphas are interchangeable. This one would behave the same way."
Kyra nodded. She’d come too far to give up now.
Augustine floated into the room. She also wore a vintage dress, but hers was a Regency style. Hers had been fashioned for her recently because she was born in 1910, well after that period ended. But she’d adopted the rest of the coven’s preference for historical clothing.
“Did I hear you say the Alpha is dead?” Augustine asked.
“Yes,” Kyra said. “The one who is responsible for exiling my father is dead.”
“I am sorry.” She put her hand on Kyra’s shoulder. “That must be disappointing.”
Something clicked, and Kyra felt a rush of gratitude for the female vampire. That was exactly what she was feeling. She was much more than disappointed – she’d spent years fantasizing about the day she’d get to enact revenge on her Alpha who’d ruined her family.
She was gutted. Crushed. Shattered. She’d been holding the feelings at bay, ever since the moment when Derek had so casually announced that the Alpha she’d wanted to punish was dead. Of course, she had to hide it. She couldn’t very well let on that she had a vested interest in his pack.
As far as he was concerned, she only had an abstract interest in their pack to begin with.
“Yes.” Kyra sank to the sofa they kept in the foyer, feeling like all the bones had just melted from her body.
She rubbed her hands over the crushed green velvet. She wasn’t sure why they kept a bench in the foyer. They would never have any visitors that weren’t part of the coven. Possibly they might have another vampire drop by, but that was unlikely. Even if they did, they wouldn’t be made to wait in the foyer, sitting on a velvet bench.
But the vampires insisted on recreating every room in the fashion of homes long past. Sometimes the houses were a mishmash of Regency, Victorian, or Edwardian styles. A few of the vampires were from other countries that hadn’t observed those trends, and they frequently would decorate a room according to their own traditions.
There was a female vampire from Nigeria who’d decorated the living room.
A male vampire from Turkey decorated the dining room. When they even had a dining room, Kyra had no idea. She ate in the kitchen. When she’d asked them about it, way back when she was ten years old, they’d said it was in case humans came over. But in all of her years with them, a human had never once come to visit. Not once.
But she was letting herself get distracted.
Victor sat next to her. He tapped her knee with his icy fingers. “This is merely new information. It is not a setback. You still have your purpose to fulfill.”
Augustine sat on the other side, scooting close. “He’s right. You can do this. We believe in you.” Augustine patted her other knee. “We are all counting on you.”
Kyra tipped her head back and exhaled. Right. She had a mission – make her father’s pack pay. She would make sure it was complete, if it was the last thing she ever did.