"Bonjour, petit serpent As-tu réfléchi à mon offre?" came the beautiful, lilting voice in perfect French without any hint that she may have been raised on any other language.

"I don't speak French." He spat in return, his own Celtic brogue sounding rough and barbaric compared to her.

The woman turned slowly, the diamonds in her thigh-length dress dancing like stars in the low light of the private room of the club. She was even more out of place as he was. He was a dragonkin in a bar filled with vampires and lycanthrope, but she... she was...

"Have you considered my offer?" she translated to English.

Her voice was light and calm, and it put him on edge that it didn't match how cold her eyes were. His instincts were telling him to run. Not even to attack. Just shift and run as far and as fast as he could from this female. He'd thought the same thing when she had released him from his cage back in the facility of the organization, and he didn't know why he sought her out now. He was being stupid. He was desperate. He'd never once thought he come crawling to one of... them... for help.

"I need more details." He snapped, trying to cover up the fear in his own voice. The way her red-painted lips curled in a smile told him she saw right through it. "What would you have me do? And how can you give me what I want?"

She raised one hand slowly and he watched it, wary of how quickly she would be able to kill him with that hand. It turned midair and she crooked her finger in a lazy, come-hither motion. He stepped forward, cursing his curiosity. She was going to kill him. He was going to die here. Twenty thousand years and this was how it was going to end?

Her finger moved to press against the window looking down at the dance floor and one of the bars. "That vampire speaking to the bartender. Do you see him?"

He followed the line of her finger to look at the male on the customer side of the bar. In human years he looked to be mid thirties, maybe early forties. He stood out, but not for his physical appearance. He was the only vampire not lost in a blood high. He was able to completely ignore the humans being passed around like blood bags and the werewolves feeding on the dead on the side. "Who is that?"

"Raphaël Laurent." She purred. "Born seventeen-ninety-three to some nobleman and woman and heir to some plot of land and fortune. All of that over when he crossed paths with Constantine Moureaux, the king of vampires. He is how you get what you want."

He narrowed his eyes and glanced sideways. She never looked away from him, that smile never once making her eyes look anything but cold and calculating. "How?" he snarled.

"I know you are a persistent dragonkin, Dáithí," She teased. "Can you be a patient one?"

"If it's something worth my time."

"Is my daughter worth your time?"

He felt the blood drain out of his face and his internal organs turn to stone. "So, it's true?" he breathed. "You're... Rhia's your..." She raised a fiery red eyebrow and dared him to continue. He swallowed hard. "Yes." He admitted. "I can be patient."

"Good." she stretched out the word to hang in the air. "Because this will take time."

"How is a vampire going to help?"

"He is going to kill Constantine."

"Constantine isn't the one in my way. Nolan is."

"It's all connected." She chuckled and gazed almost lovingly down at the vampire. "Trust me, you want Constantine dead."

"Then why don't I just kill him." he hissed. "Better yet, why don't you kill him?"

"The dragons will know if he were killed by another kin, and they will definitely know if I was the one to do it. This needs to look entirely political. I need it to look like it was just two vampires tearing at each other's throats. If they ever have reason to suspect otherwise, Luna will have the support of the others to investigate. If not, she will break. I want her broken."

"Why?"

"Because I want to start a war." She looked to him again. "A real war. And it is easier to start a war when the strongest side has nothing left to lose."

Warning bells rang in his head, but an old rage and a thirst for blood burned in his chest. She saw the change in his eyes, and the ice in hers descended to her smile, making her look sadistic and cruel. She leaned closer to him, and her image flickered. The sharp points of her high cheekbones and chin softened. Her eyes turned green, and he shivered. She had mastered glamour perfectly, not even needing to lock in the spell with the words. There had been so little to change already, her resemblance to Rhia was... mind-blowing.

"I want Luna to bury the world in ice." Even her voice had changed, raising in pitch to perfectly imitate Rhia's. If he closed his eyes, he could perfectly imagine Rhia whispering those words in his ear while her body pressed sensually against his. "I want Nekros to fill the air with his toxins. I want this world to bathe in hellfire until there is nothing left but us. Dragons and kin. Like it was always meant to be."

The darkness in his heart growled in pleasure and pushed him to accept. He tried to fight it. "The organization..." he rasped. "And the dark elves. What are their roles in this?"

"Pawns, of course." She breathed hotly, her lips a hair away from his. "They were plan A. They were only supposed to take her and make it look like they had taken me. They were never supposed to take Nekros. He was supposed to start this war. His mate and hatchling taken by some unknown force? He would have been unstoppable. It would have been beautiful. When the time was right, I would have emerged with the broken body of our hatchling and mourned with him. Even Lysander would have joined to destroy every living being on this earth in revenge."

Dáithí reeled back, staring at her. "You want her dead?!" he snarled.

"No." She let go of the glamour and returning to all sharp angles and burning red eyes. "I did not care what happened to her then. Killing her simply would have made things easier. I don't care what happens to her now, either. Live or die, it makes no difference to me. I don't need her. But I could use you. And you need her."

"How?" he cursed himself again for continuing to indulge this woman. "Do you expect me to wait for the rest of the world to perish before I can have her? I am patient, but that is too much to demand."

"That is why you want Constantine dead." She chuckled again. "Because when Luna fed him her blood, she passed the bonding ability to him. That is what gives him the ability to turn humans into vampires. It was the same with the Lycanthrope. And you are old enough to remember what happened to them when their alpha died, right?"

Realization hit him like a tonne of bricks and the air came rushing out of his lungs. He'd never made the connection before now. It was the one thing the vampires and werewolves had in common. Their origins. Of course, it was... fucking brilliant. "They all died." He gasped.

"Not all of them," her smile widened. "The born wolves remained. But every lycan alive that was made turned to ash within hours of his death. Nolan wasn't born a vampire. His life is tied to Constantine's. He will die with his king. And Rhia..."

"She will be distraught."

"And who will be there to encourage her need for revenge?"

"Me..."

"And who will be there when she needs a male to hold her at night? To take away her pain? To make her forget that she ever cared for a living corpse?"

"Me."

She smiled coldly again. "Precisely."

"What would you have me do?"

"Information." Phoenix's voice invaded his mind and her hot, powerful magic curled around him seductively. "That's it. Offer your help to Rhia. Put yourself at the center of her training if you must. And when she comes to France to play with her little blood sucker, you will meet one of my associates and tell them everything. Can you do that, Dáithí? Will you start a war with me?"

~