London was grey and rainy—quintessentially British, Adrian thought as they landed at a private airfield outside the city. Unlike Moscow's brutal cold, London was merely damp and miserable.
"Morgana controls the city's supernatural population through seduction and blackmail," Marcus briefed them in the car. "She's turned politicians, CEOs, aristocrats. She has leverage on everyone that matters."
"How do we find her?" Adrian asked.
"We don't. She'll find us." Kieran stared out at the rainy streets. "Morgana collects beautiful things. Art, jewels, people. She'll be curious about you—about the reincarnation that's caused so much chaos. She'll arrange a meeting."
"And then?"
"And then I kill her."
They checked into the Savoy—Kieran apparently had a permanent suite there. The rooms were opulent, all art deco elegance and Thames views.
"How many properties do you have?" Adrian asked, somewhat overwhelmed.
"Dozens. When you live for a thousand years, you invest wisely." Kieran pulled him close, ignoring Marcus and Wei's presence. "After this is done, I'll take you to all of them. Paris, Tokyo, New York, Rome. Everywhere."
"That sounds perfect."
The invitation arrived within hours—hand-delivered by a vampire so beautiful Adrian did a double-take. The messenger had porcelain skin, perfect features, and eyes like liquid gold.
"Lady Morgana requests the pleasure of your company," the vampire purred, his accent posh British. "Tonight, at her estate. Just Lord Ashford and his... companion. No weapons, no violence. Merely conversation."
"Tell your mistress we accept," Kieran said coldly.
The vampire bowed and disappeared in a swirl of expensive cologne.
"It's a trap," Wei said immediately.
"Obviously," Kieran agreed. "But it's also the fastest way to end this. Adrian stays here with you and Marcus while I—"
"No." Adrian stepped forward. "She specifically invited me. If I don't show, she'll know something's wrong. Besides, I'm the bait, remember? Use me."
"Absolutely not—"
"Kieran." Adrian took his hands. "We've been through this. I'm not helpless, I'm not fragile, and I'm not sitting on the sidelines while you face an ancient vampire seductress alone. We're partners."
Kieran looked like he wanted to argue, but finally nodded. "Partners. But you follow my lead. At the first sign of danger, you run."
"Deal."
That evening, they dressed for dinner at a vampire's estate. Kieran wore another perfect suit—dark blue this time, bringing out the grey of his eyes. Adrian wore black, feeling somewhat inadequate next to Kieran's effortless elegance.
"You look beautiful," Kieran said, adjusting Adrian's collar with gentle fingers.
"I look like I'm going to a funeral."
"Perhaps you are. Morgana's, if we're lucky."
The estate was in Kensington, a massive Georgian mansion hidden behind high walls. They were met at the door by more beautiful vampires—all of them Morgana's creations, all of them looking at Adrian like he was a particularly interesting meal.
Lady Morgana herself waited in a dining room that belonged in a palace. She was stunning—tall, curves in all the right places, red hair cascading down her back, and eyes that shifted color as she moved. She wore a dress that probably cost more than a car and smiled like a predator.
"Kieran Ashford," she purred. "The Cursed Prince. What an honor. And this must be the reincarnation everyone's fighting over. How... delicious."
Her gaze on Adrian was physical, assessing, hungry. Adrian resisted the urge to hide behind Kieran.
"Lady Morgana," Kieran said coolly. "Thank you for the invitation."
"Of course. I simply had to meet the vampire who's been decimating Viktor's network." She gestured to the table. "Please, sit. I've prepared a meal for your human."
The table was laden with food that looked like art—perfectly plated, probably poisoned. Adrian didn't touch anything.
"Smart boy," Morgana laughed. "The food is safe, I promise. I'm curious, not murderous. Yet."
"What do you want?" Kieran asked bluntly.
"So direct. I like that." Morgana sat at the head of the table, crossing her legs deliberately. "I want to understand. Viktor promised us a new age, freedom from hiding. You're destroying that vision. Why? What does one human matter compared to the liberation of our entire species?"
"Because that 'liberation' would mean war. Exposure would lead to humans hunting us with technology we can't match. We'd be exterminated within a generation." Kieran's voice was hard. "The Accord exists because it protects both species."
"Or because you're afraid. Afraid of change, afraid of power, afraid of what we could become if we stopped pretending to be human."
"I've never pretended to be human. I simply choose not to be a monster."
Morgana's smile sharpened. "But you are a monster, darling. You've killed thousands over your long life. You slaughtered a village in a blood rage. You murdered your own father. Don't pretend you're somehow noble."
"I don't claim nobility. I claim growth. Learning from my mistakes rather than repeating them."
"How boring." Morgana's gaze shifted to Adrian. "And you. You choose this existence? Choose to become like him—cold, dead, cursed to watch everyone you love die?"
"I choose him," Adrian said firmly. "Whatever that means."
"Love." Morgana said the word like it tasted bad. "I've lived for twelve hundred years. You know what I've learned? Love is a weakness. A vulnerability that gets exploited. Kieran loves you, so he can be controlled through you. You love him, so you'll make stupid choices to protect him. It's pathetic."
"Or it's strength," Adrian countered. "Love gives you something to fight for beyond yourself. Makes you stronger, not weaker."
Morgana stood, moving with liquid grace to stand behind Adrian's chair. Her hand touched his shoulder, cold through his shirt.
"Let me show you something," she whispered, and suddenly Adrian's mind was flooded with images.
He saw Morgana's history—centuries of lovers, all human, all eventually dead. She'd loved them, truly loved them, and watched each one age and die while she remained unchanged. The pain of it had hardened her, turned love into something she feared rather than embraced.
"That's what waits for you," Morgana said, releasing him. "Centuries of loss. Everyone you care about will die. Your family, your friends, anyone you don't turn. And if you do turn them, you'll watch them change, become something other than what you loved. There's no winning. Only survival."
Adrian's head spun, but he forced himself to focus. "Then I'll make the most of the time I have with them. And when they're gone, I'll carry their memories. That's better than feeling nothing."
Morgana's expression flickered—something like respect, or perhaps sadness. "You're naive. But I remember being naive. It's almost charming."
She returned to her seat. "I'm not going to fight you, Kieran. Viktor's vision was always doomed. He was too impulsive, too idealistic. The old lords he wanted to resurrect would have been even worse for our kind than the current system."
"Then why fund him?" Kieran demanded.
"Curiosity. Boredom. The hope that maybe, just maybe, something would change." Morgana swirled wine in her glass. "But now I see it won't. So I'm withdrawing my support. The remaining followers of Viktor's movement will collapse without my resources."
"Just like that? You're giving up?"
"I'm being pragmatic. You've proven you're willing to kill to protect your human. Konstantin and the others underestimated you. I won't make that mistake." Morgana's smile was sharp. "Besides, I'm curious to see what happens. A vampire and his reincarnated lover, facing immortality together. It's either tragic or romantic. Either way, it will be entertaining to watch."
Kieran stood, pulling Adrian up with him. "We're leaving."
"So soon? But I haven't even served dessert."
"I don't trust this. You're too intelligent to simply surrender."
"Oh, I'm not surrendering. I'm choosing my battles." Morgana stood as well. "But here's a parting gift—a warning. The winter solstice is in three weeks. There are still vampires loyal to Viktor's vision, vampires I don't control. They'll attempt the ritual with or without my support. If you want your human safe, you need to either turn him or hide him where they can't find him."
"I know."
"Then our business is concluded." Morgana walked them to the door. "Good luck, Prince. You'll need it."
They left the estate, both tense and confused.
"That was too easy," Marcus said when they returned to the Savoy.
"Agreed," Kieran said. "Morgana doesn't surrender. She's planning something."
"Or she's genuinely stepping back," Wei offered. "Maybe she's tired. Twelve hundred years is a long time to keep fighting."
"Maybe," Kieran said doubtfully.
That night, Adrian couldn't shake the images Morgana had shown him—centuries of loss, love turning to pain, the slow erosion of humanity under the weight of immortality.
"She got in your head," Kieran observed.
"She showed me her pain. Her losses. Is that what waits for us?"
"Possibly. Probably." Kieran pulled Adrian into his arms. "Immortality isn't easy. It's watching the world change while you stay the same. Losing people you care about, over and over. But it's also experiencing things no mortal could. Learning, growing, loving across centuries."
"Is it worth it?"
"Ask me in a thousand years."
Adrian laughed despite himself. "That's not reassuring."
"I can't promise you happiness, Adrian. I can't promise immortality won't be painful or difficult or lonely sometimes. But I can promise I'll be beside you through all of it. We'll face eternity together."
"Together," Adrian echoed, and kissed him.
They made love that night with renewed urgency, both aware that time was running out. Three weeks until the winter solstice. Three weeks until the ritual. Three weeks until Adrian's humanity ended.