He licked his lips. "I was thinking money or a bigger coffin. Or maybe—" His gaze feasted on her body, then lifted to her eyes. "You."
Her grip tightened on the edge of the desk, but she kept her smile even. "Are you admitting to the murders then?"
"Hell yes, I killed the women. Fucked them first, then drained them dry and slit their throats."
"How sporting of you." Katya pushed away from the desk and returned to her chair. Boris shrugged. "There's plenty more where they came from. It's not like we're going to suffer from a food shortage." He grinned. "So are you giving over?"
She sat. "I am your master, not your whore."
Anger flashed in his eyes, and he stood. "Galina does it. She's upstairs right now, entertaining Miroslav and Burien."
"Then get in line. Galina enjoys boosting morale with her revolving door policy. I'm the one running this coven, and I have real business to attend to."
He snorted. "You're only master because you killed Ivan."
"Something you didn't have the balls to do." Katya opened her top drawer and inserted a dart into a blowpipe. "No, you attack defenseless women and call yourself a man."
He stiffened. "It is no crime to kill mortals. It is our right." His eyes narrowed. "There's no reward, is there? I should have known you were a lying bitch."
"Oh, there is a reward." Katya lifted the blowpipe to her mouth, and with a puff of air, she sent the dart flying straight to Boris's neck.
"I—" He stumbled back with a stunned look. He yanked the dart from his neck.
"Nightshade?" He crumpled to the floor.
"It works fast, don't you think?" Katya strolled over to his paralyzed body, then placed a foot on his chest. She pressed down on the stiletto heel. "How do you like your reward?"
Boris's eyes clouded with pain and fear.
"You see, normally I wouldn't object to a mortal dying. I've killed quite a few myself. It's your motivation I object to. You're trying to cause a war between my coven and Draganesti's. You think if a war erupts, I'll be replaced. And you thought I was too stupid to figure that out." She leaned over. "I'm not going anywhere. You, on the other hand—"
The phone rang, interrupting her speech.
"Damn." She glanced at the phone, then at Boris. "Don't go away." Chuckling, she strolled back to the desk to answer the phone. "Hello?"
"Is this Katya Miniskaya, co-master of the Russian-American coven?" The masculine voice had sneered over the wordco-master.
She tamped down on her anger. A male vampire would never get this kind of disrespect.
Only one man had ever recognized her talent and potential. He'd praised her for what others failed to see. She'd set out to seduce him for the sheer challenge, but she'd fallen into her own trap. She'd fallen for him. And the bastard had abandoned her.
She should have killed him.
She shoved the memory aside. She was a coven master now. She didn't need any man, and she wasn't going to let this arrogant creep on the phone jerk her around. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"I am an associate of Casimir." The voice paused.
Katya waited, but he remained silent. Maybe he thought the mere mention of Casimir would scare her to the point she'd be unable to carry on a conversation. She snorted.
"So?"
"He is unhappy with you."
"Big deal. I'm not real happy with him, either." Casimir had let everyone think he had died in the Great Vampire War of 1710. He'd left everyone feeling defeated and leaderless.
A form wavered beside the empty chair, then solidified. He was a chunky man with a neck thicker than his head, wispy brown hair, and cold blue eyes that regarded her with bored condescension. His gray suit and leather briefcase looked strictly business, but Katya knew danger when she saw it.
She eased around the back of her desk, making a show of hanging up her phone and sitting down. Her new position put her close to her blowpipe and supply of nightshade darts.
His lips curled into a sneer. "Thank you for seeing me." He snapped his cell phone shut and dropped it into his coat pocket.
Crap. He'd used her voice as a beacon. "Who are you, and what do you want?"
"I am Jedrek Janow, a close friend of Casimir."
She carefully kept her face blank. She'd heard his name mentioned in whispers over the years. He was Casimir's favorite hit man. "How do you do?" She motioned for him to take a seat.
He didn't. The bastard preferred staring down at her. He gently deposited his leather briefcase in the chair.