- REMUS -

You fucking idiot.

I swear at myself for the third time that evening. Inwardly, of course, not just because I have company, but because the wretched woman sleeping on my bed happens to be venomous enough to shame a goddamn viper. That, and a man in my position just can't really afford to show I've messed up on such a colossal scale without consequences.

The same wave of nausea hits me again, and this time I nearly double over. I know it isn't real, but it makes me want to puke my guts nonetheless. The attacks never last for long each time, but the fact that they hit so unexpectedly and usually during the night while I work is making my life difficult. The first two times had happened in the middle of an important meeting, in a room full of treacherous purebloods who can't wait for me to make a mistake they can use to strangle me with. For three days, I thought it was something I'd eaten until I realized there was absolutely nothing wrong with me, that they weren't really my symptoms. They were hers.

What the fuck was I thinking? I'd asked myself that question a hundred times that week, and so far I haven't been able to pinpoint which part of my brain could have malfunctioned so badly that it'd compelled me to do something as stupid as giving her my own blood. It was supposed to be Lucien who approach and poison her, and why he'd carried a vial of antidotes that were meant for his blood, which is obviously not potent enough to work with mine. How, in my three hundred years of life and the wisdom I've acquired, did I manage to allow the unexplainable, idiotic urge to take over and drop my own blood - my pure fucking blood - into that wine I still have no clue. The shit, I've now discovered, happens to be potent enough to agonize both of us, not just her.

I know about the bond, of course, know it just as well as any vampire. It just didn't occur to me that the purity of my blood would mean that every effect would multiply tenfolds. The one-sided bond that should have been simply an awareness or a small tug on the conscience for an average vampire happens to be a punch in the gut for me. I can feel what she feels - her anger, her pain, even her fear - and I feel it with the intensity and clarity that it's difficult to distinguish them from my own. I'm aware of her all the time like there's an itch on my back I can't reach that just won't go away, and the best part is that I know for a fact it's going to stay there for one whole bloody year. Fucking marvelous.

I squeeze my eyes shut and massage my temple. Surely there has to be a way to deal with this. I can ask Lucien who's sired probably hundreds of vampires, but my trusted seneschal is loyal to a fault, and his solution would simply be to get rid of Wolf. She's a risk Lucien wouldn't hesitate to eliminate, not to mention he'd get a kick out of it after what she's done to him in that attic. The woman gave him two broken ribs, three cuts, and five bullet holes that night, and because I'd ordered him to keep her alive, he'd let her do whatever she pleased. Now that he knows my blood runs in her veins, I bet she's moved all the way to the top of the leaderboard for people he wants to see dead. My fault entirely. I've managed to bond myself with a human girl, give myself a weakness, and piss off my most trusted subordinate in one night, all for a pair of pretty hazel eyes that piqued my interest. Some fucking talent, that.

I really should kill her. The bond is more than an annoyance, it's an opening for attack for a man in my position. Not that I haven't considered it when Lucien had offered to get rid of her, but I also remember the way she looked at me, the fire in those eyes, the fight in that small, fragile human body, and something in my sub conscience made me hesitate. I don't know what it is. All I know is that I don't want to, or the time hasn't come.

That, and I also need her to root out the syndicate. For two months I've had Veronica Wolf observed and researched, and there simply isn't anyone more perfect for the job. In fact, there hasn't been one for two decades. A human girl trained well enough to capture and kill vampires singlehandedly doesn't come by every century. Moreover, she has no friends or family, no social life, which means there's less chance of her going around telling everyone about it. She even has all the right motives to do what I need, and by gods, the woman can kick ass and looks good kicking ass. Marcus would have loved her. Marcus would have...

I stop myself at that thought, just before the familiar, searing pain fills my chest. Ten years, and some feelings just never go away, but then I'd known him so much longer than that, long enough for some wounds to never heal, and if I am to do what I've promised, I can't let Lucien kill her. Especially when we're so close, and the election is coming up.

That's when my headache doubles. Election is coming up in less than a year and I'm not half way through getting the votes I need. I look at the woman lying next to me and I can't help but release an uncharacteristic sigh. It's another annoyance I'm going to have to live with, and sometimes I wonder if it's worth it.

I rise from the bed and head to the bathroom, making sure I don't wake the Witch of Eastgate. There's a good reason they call her that, and I can't help but agree even though I do find Aelia a fun company sometimes. Right now, though, I need a shower and I need my solitude.

The shower does feel good. At the very least it numbs down what I'm feeling from the bond with the human girl. She must have taken the antidote right after that wave of nausea because now all I feel is her rage. It brings back the image of her in the kitchen, dressed in skin-tight leather and armed to the teeth with silver blades she had strapped to almost every inch of that firm, perfect body. Those high cheekbones and defiant, deep-set, hazel eyes make me wonder what she'd be like in bed. I can't remember the last time a woman looks at me that way. That girl wanted to cut me open and suck my blood dry if she could in that kitchen. If there's anything that can excite a man more than a hot woman who wants him dead, I haven't found it. Then again, it's probably that promise of excitement that had led me to do something as stupid as feeding her my blood. I can't help but scowl at that. I'm not going to win any election if I still l think with my cock.

"I hope that's not for me."

I turn to the sound and find Aelia stretching her back like a cat on the doorframe. She makes a point of wearing my silk robe and not tying the belt properly so that it hangs loose on her shoulders, revealing parts of her breast and a generous amount of her thighs. I congratulate myself on seeing the motive in that. At least I've been around long enough to know when a woman wants to seduce me and what she does on purpose to do so.

"Of course, not," I tell her as I turn off the water. "If it were I'd tell you." I usually would. Aelia and I are on a strictly business-only relationship, and we have no problem being brutally honest with each other. We do fuck occasionally, even though most of the time it had nothing to do with business. I figure if the Witch is to be my wife I might as well enjoy some parts of it, and she's not exactly a boring lay.

She takes two calculated steps into the bathroom and looks me up and down as I towel myself dry. I know she likes to watch me naked, and I don't really mind it.

"True." She smiles. "Was it work or a woman?"

"Woman," I reply, eyeing her to catch any inappropriate reaction. We sleep with whomever we want, that was a part of the deal. The problem is, so far she's only been sharing my bed, which does worry me a bit. I can deal with a bloodsucking, vindictive witch of a wife who marries me for power, but I can't deal with a jealous one who marries for love. Love is nothing but a degrading, self-destructive mess only fools look for, and I hope Aelia isn't one of them.

To my relief, she only raises a brow. "Who's the lucky girl?"

I smirk at that as I wrap the towel around my waist. "The lucky girl, Aelia, is none of your business." If she thinks I'm going to tell her stuff about my personal life, she'd better start striking a deal with another pureblood.

"Oh calm down, sweetheart," she says, swaying her hips as she walks towards me, pausing just an inch away. "I'm only trying to protect my investment."

"An investment I haven't agreed to, mind you," I told her. The dowry she'd proposed is outrageous, which is why we haven't entered into marriage even though I should make it happen as soon as possible to fully support the upcoming election. We're still in the middle of a bargain, and while I'm fully aware that she's a pureblood and the Keeper of the Eastgate, which entitles her to demand such a sum for the number of votes she's bringing me and for stepping down from being a candidate, I also figure if she becomes my wife and I make Chancellor, then she'll be getting a much better end of the deal. I, on the other hand, might be stuck with the Witch for the duration of my life, or at least for however long I manage to stay Chancellor.

"Ah, but you haven't said no either," she says, dragging her long, red fingernails along the nape of my neck and down my torso to the towel around my waist. "You know you're getting more than the votes, Remus. It is a fair bargain."

I roll my eyes at that. A fair bargain would be half the amount she's asking and with a different, more manageable beast. "Sweetheart, I have no problem getting more than the votes elsewhere."

"With the same expertise?" She smiles and licks her lips. "I don't think so."

I look down at the hand that dips between my legs and contemplate whether I should allow myself the entertainment or use this chance to show her how little I care about her expertise. As always, she flutters her eyelids at me and puckers her lips, as if to remind me how skilled they are. At the same time, her sharp nails travel up the inside of my right thigh, advertising what they can do, and I admit it's pretty tempting. Halfway through the debate in my head, Veronica sends another fit of that delicious rage through the bond just as Aelia wraps her fingers around me, and that, consequences be damned, throws my three hundred years of wisdom and self-control out the window.

"Very well," I tell her, running my hand through her golden hair and wrapping a bunch of it around my fist before giving it a forceful tug. She jolts and whimpers at the pain, and then purrs through her seductive smile. The Witch likes it when I get rough, and I have a tendency to be rough. In fact, that might just be the only thing compatible between Aelia Valaris and I. "Convince me."

She smiles and makes a move with her hand, and I tug harder on her hair, pulling her down with it. "On your knees, Valaris. I haven't got all night." I know I have some nerves treating a Keeper of the Gates like my little bed slave, but when I make Chancellor, which is the point of all this, I'm going to need her to be a tame little wife to secure that position. That and the price she's asking should come with such a privilege.

Aelia stiffens in my grip. Her blue eyes narrow dangerously now, giving me a warning. "Don't push your boundaries, Remus, or you might find me on the other side, and I promise you won't like it."

I know what's going to happen if I make an enemy out of Aelia Valaris. I know how many vampires she's stabbed in the back while sucking their cocks. The woman is notorious for her elaborate schemes, and have been known to switch sides as often as changing her hair style. Until now I haven't figured out the whole list of who she has wrapped around her fingers to utilize. It's a dangerous route I'm taking to win the election, but then again, I'm not exactly one without venom.

"If you're going to be the wife of a Chancellor," I pull her closer by the hair and brush those words against her cheek, "I suggest you learn how to kneel. And you should be thankful I'm offering you the opportunity, or you'll be staring at Kain's cock right about now to get what you want." I know why she'd come to me with the offer. Aelia is ambitious to a fault, and she wants this as much as I do, if not more. Her candidate is either me or my one competition, and the competition happens to be a boring, bearded male that enjoys torturing and beating up young girls in bed, not to mention he's ugly as hell. Compared to Kain Wilde I'm pretty much Adonis. She knows I know this, of course, but sometimes a reminder is needed to keep her in check. "Down, Aelia," I tell her, "I'm not a very patient man, I assure you."

She stares at me for a moment, considering her options, and then smiles venomously. "You have no idea what I'm willing to do to get what I want, Remus, remember that," she says as she lowers herself to the marble floor, kneeling at my feet. In the back of my mind, my human girl tugs not so gently on the bond, her white, hot rage sending me close to the edge and making me enjoy Aelis' mouth a little too much than I'm willing to show. I'm going to have to do something about that pretty soon before I make another piss-poor decision over my own prisoner and allowing it to become a weakness.