Chapter Twelve
“To my good friends, Dorian and Gabriel Redthorne.” Alexei Rogozin lifted his glass of vodka, nodding at the vampires seated across from him in the Ravenswood dining room. “And to wolf, who looks like he tried to piss on angry grizzly bear.”
Cole, who’d returned to Ravenswood for the late-night meeting only after Dorian convinced him expensive Russian vodka was close enough to cheap American whiskey to warrant the trip, grinned. “Don’t be jealous of the scars, Mr. Rogozin. I know a guy who can hook you up for the right price.”
“That is hard pass from me,” he said with a laugh. “This face? Smooth as baby’s bottom.”
“The offer stands.” Cole touched the rim of his glass to Rogozin’s. Then they drank.
Ever the diplomat, Dorian made a show of gushing about the vodka Rogozin
