There was a long pause. “Your father did mention it, Elizabeth, but it’s not—”
“Like hell it isn’t. The answer is no. Goodnight, Mother.”
I hung up and took a deep, frustrated breath. It was always about the power with my family. Always.
A whiskey on ice appeared in front of my nose, and I took it with a grateful sigh. “You know, for years I dreamed of having the sort of power that would make me acceptable to my family. Now that the possibility is there, I’m realizing just how goddamn stupid that dream was. I don’t want them in my life. I don’t even like them.”
Belle plopped down on the chair opposite. “They’ll never change. You know this.”
I did, but it had never stopped the dreams of the inner child.
But meeting my father—and talking to my mother—as an adult certainly had.
“Families sometimes aren’t the ones you’re born into, but rather the ones you make,” Belle said. “I think we’ve gotten ourselves a pretty damn fine one here.”
I lightly clinked my glass against hers. “They’re not the problem at the moment. Clayton is.”
“If he disappeared yesterday, then it’s likely he’s already in the reservation.”
“Yes, and that means we have to put plan B into action.”
“I’m not staying at Émigré. I don’t trust her not to take an uninvited bite or two.”
“She won’t—she gave her word to the council, remember.”
Belle snorted. “Like you can trust the word of a vampire.”
“In this case, I think we can—if only because she owes us a favor and wants it put behind her.”
“So she can nibble on us later,” Belle said gloomily.
A smile twitched my lips. “Possibly. Doesn’t alter the fact that it’s far safer than here. As I said before, I doubt even Clayton is mad enough to tackle a vampire’s abode.”
“After what happened in Wodonga, I wouldn’t bet on that.”
Neither would I, actually. “Please, Belle, you’ve more chance being safe there than here.”
“And what if he decides to attack us here during the day?”
“He won’t, because there’ll be too many witnesses.”
“Given he doesn’t appear to be thinking logically, witnesses aren’t a watertight guarantee of safety.”
“I know, but I still don’t think he will.”
She sighed and drank her whiskey. “Fine. But if she decides to dine on me, I won’t be happy.”
“She wants to dine on me. You, she wants to fuck.”
“That does not make me feel any better.” She waved a hand. “Just do it.”
I grinned and made the call.
“Lizzie Grace,” Roger said in an effusive manner. “To what do we owe this honor?”
“You’re in a rather good mood tonight—is there any particular reason?”
“It’s the radiance that comes from the mistress feeding.”