“I’ve sent you an email,” his father said as reply. “In it is a video that’s gone viral on social media. A video that shows Myrna Buchanan being raped by a vampire while he drained her…completely.”

Yuri knifed to sitting and bit out, “Pardon?”

“We’ve received reports,” Gregor carried on. “Currently, the number stands at two hundred and seventeen concubines, either currently in service or retired, who have been taken.”

“Fuck,” Yuri growled, throwing the covers off, angling out of bed, and bending to gather his clothes.

“You’re needed back here.”

He dumped his clothes on the bed as he reminded Gregor, “Five witches survived the slaughter last night, Father. The rest of the witch world gets wind of that, they might be in danger.”

“We’ll leave a detail for them.”

“No,” he clipped.

“Yuri, after this is sorted, you can go back to play with your new toy.”

Fire burned through him and it took effort not to throw his phone across the room with his natural strength, which would reduce it to dust.

“I’ll say this once, knowing you’ll understand me and I’ll not have to repeat. That was the last time you speak of Aurora in that manner. Now, she comes with me. As do her witch sisters.”

Gregor’s tone was conciliatory even when he said, “We have enough on our plate up here.”

“And when we get there, you’ll have more.”

“We can’t host five hostile witches,” Gregor’s voice nearly snapped.

“What you mean is you don’t want to. But you can.”

Gregor was silent but only for a moment.

“I’m hiring a private jet. Bring them, but don’t delay. I’ll text you the location of the airstrip. You have two hours.”

“We’ll be there.”

Gregor hung up and Yuri didn’t turn to his clothes.

He called his concubine.

Once he ascertained she was still safely in the compound where he’d left her, he called his friend Jordan and arranged for him to see to her. That being, see she was safe but not in the compound where he would soon be taking Aurora.

Only when that was sorted did he turn to his clothes.

He was zipping his slacks when Aurora walked in looking adorable in his shirt, hair tousled, leather-bound room service menu tucked under her arm.

At one look at him, she halted two feet into the room.

“Is everything okay?”

“No, my sweet,” he answered, pulling on his sweater, then pinning her with his gaze. “Does that bowl travel?”

Her eyes widened, but she answered, “Uh…probably.”

He nodded once before ordering, “Dress, Aurora, and phone your mother. We’re going to Oregon.”

“But they won’t be able to finish their work,” she protested. “The implements won’t be safe.”

“She can bring them with her.”

“She won’t—”

He was standing in front of her in a nanosecond.