There are certain known facts about vampires. They revile change. They are obsessive-compulsive. They are illogical. They are cursed. They will burst into flames in sunlight.
They are dying.
With less than a hundred vampires left in the world, Yas...
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He couldn't find his twin. Tavia had always been more athletic, and escaping might as well be a specialty of hers. Knowing her, she would have run off to the nearest vaguely-Irish bar to eat snacks and drink beer until she'd calmed down.
He wanted desperately to track her down and try to talk to her, but comforting his twin was the last thing he wanted to do. He'd already passed the grieving stage. Now he was abuzz with energy, shaking with the need to do something. Something drastic. Something suitable to match the emotions he'd held back thus far.
At the security desk, he picked up Tavia's things. The guard didn't blink, not after the reminder of who had secured the rooms on Tavius' behalf.
Note to self: send ex a gift basket.
The thought made him chuckle, but the sound came out a little shrill. Delirious. That, too, he thought was funny. He was still snickering when he crossed to Hotel Del Luna's second tower and knocked on the door of its penthouse suite.
This room was infinitely nicer (and more expensive) than the one set aside for him, August and Yasuko. Larger, more luxurious, it was reserved solely for the most elite clients of Brookes-Bank—the firm that sponsored the hotel. The Yinglong had had to negotiate a contract in order to be given the room, a transaction that had had Tavius on pins and needles with terror during the entirety of its negotiation. But the Yinglong didn't believe in luck magic, and thus he'd barely batted an eye at the agreement. All he'd wanted were the fancy accommodations.
