Levet by Alexandra Ivy

something.
    â€œI most emphatically do not,” he rasped, shoving open the door to his office and leading his companion inside.
    â€œThank the gods.” Styx crossed the slate-gray carpet, perching on the corner of Santiago’s heavy walnut desk. “When I took the gig of Anasso I didn’t know I had to become the Vampire Whisperer. I just wanted to poke things with my big sword.”
    Santiago veered past the wooden shelves that held the sort of high-tech surveillance equipment that only Homeland Security was supposed to know about, unlocking the door of the sidebar that was set beneath the French Impressionist paintings that were hung on the paneled walls.
    â€œI hope you didn’t come here to poke anything with your sword,” he said, pulling out a bottle of Comisario tequila.
    â€œActually, I need your help.”
    â€œAgain?” Santiago poured two healthy shots of the expensive liquor. The last time Styx had said those words the Dark Lord had been threatening to destroy the world and he’d been teamed up with Nefri in an attempt to find the missing prophet. “I thought we’d gone beyond the ‘sky is falling’ to ‘yippee ki yay,’ everyone back to their neutral corners so we can pretend that we didn’t nearly become puppy chow for the hordes of hell?”
    Styx hadn’t become king just because he was baddest of all badasses. He was also frighteningly perceptive.
    Narrowing his eyes, he studied Santiago’s bitter expression with a disturbing intensity.
    â€œDoes this have something to do with Nefri and her return to her clan?”
    Nope. Not discussing it.
    Santiago jerkily moved to shove one of the glasses into Styx’s hand.
    â€œHere.”
    Briefly distracted, the ancient vampire took a sip of the potent spirit, a faint smile curving his lips.
    â€œFrom Viper’s cellars?”
    â€œOf course.”
    Styx’s smile widened. Despite being predatory alphas, Styx and Viper (the clan chief of Chicago) had become trusted friends. It was almost as shocking as the fact that vampires and Weres had become allies. At least temporarily.
    Which only proved the point that doomsday truly did make for strange bedfellows.
    â€œDoes he know you’re enjoying his private stash?”
    â€œWhat he doesn’t know . . .” Santiago lifted his glass in a mocking toast before draining the tequila in one swallow. “ Salud .”
    â€œYou know,” Styx murmured, setting aside his glass, “maybe I should try my hand at Dr. Phil.”
    Santiago poured himself another shot.
    â€œYou said you needed my help.”
    â€œThat was the plan, but you’re in a dangerous mood, amigo. The kind of mood that gets good vampires dead.”
    â€œI’m fine.” Santiago drained the tequila, savoring the exquisite burn. “Tell me what you want from me.”
    There was a long pause before the king at last reached to pull out a dagger that had been sheathed at his hip.
    â€œDo you recognize this?”
    â€œ Dios .” Santiago dropped his glass as he stared in shock at the ornamental silver blade that was shaped like a leaf with a leather pummel inset with tiny rubies. “A pugio,” he breathed.
    â€œDo you recognize it?”
    His short burst of humorless laughter filled the room. Hell yeah, he recognized it. He should. It belonged to his sire, Gaius, who had once been a Roman general.
    Centuries ago he’d watched in awe as Gaius had displayed the proper method of killing his prey with the dagger. What a fool he’d been.
    Of course, he wasn’t entirely to blame.
    Like all foundlings, Santiago had awoken as a vampire without memory of his past and only a primitive instinct to survive. But unlike others, he hadn’t been left to fend for himself. Oh no. Gaius had been there. Treating him like a son and training him to become his most trusted warrior.
    But all that came to an end the night their