Fernand Polites breathed in the fresh winter air and grinned, a grin full of teeth and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Hadrian Deranges was supposed to be here. Along with a Boliarin and some tag along.
Which was good.
Fernand hadn't seen his blood brother in centuries. The last he heard of him; he was starving himself to death travelling the world. Now, he found a good, tasty blood bank.
Harry had always been capable of getting himself out of trouble, their sire Paul had always said. As resourceful as a wolf and as docile as a kitten. Hadrian was made to go around cities and mingle.
Unlike Fernand.
The guards took a closer look at his papers and were about to return them to him when Fernand looked in their eyes.
"Now, I am slightly hungry," he said, and his grin turned savage. "Care to share some of that delicious blood you have in your meat sacks?"
