Jake looked over his former place of work with disgust. The Oligarchy had been a representation of his earlier failures in this city, as well as the failings of the other leaders. Lazarus had been a boob, Kerr was too occupied with his children - fucking Ben - and Vomas had been too snide to effectively rule. Dominik was too quiet and had no real interest in ruling. Quinn was a coward and the demon Oligarch had been so ineffective he hadn’t even been around when the Oligarchy fell. Then there was the high bitch herself, the dark angel , Sarai Zohert. That stubborn, entitled cunt would need to be dealt with eventually and her current missing status brought Jake no joy. She was up to something and he feared it involved taking over the whole city.
His own crime had been an urge to fight that went beyond the call to action, and he’d quickly earned a reputation as a war monger. Some of those critiques had been justified, but now as the ashes fell he was still in control of his district, and Vomas. Vomas who? Jake had obviously been doing something right. He looked to Sam, and thought of their relationship at that time. They’d been so combative, and Sam had been one hell of a brat. So much had changed since then, and he was happy it had. Now, he was at this place of failure to highlight his successes, and training Sam to use her disciplines was a part of that success.
He knew she’d been working on them on her own while he was away, and was curious to see her progress. He’d also planned some exercises to help her stretch her ability. Above all, he was going to teach the most important rule when expanding one’s power, patience. He smoked too, and thought that Sam must’ve picked the habit up from him. She looked up to her sire, and why shouldn’t she? She was no rabble or Cattiff. She was a Ventrue, the clan of Kings, the masters of the mind and the secret rulers of half the world. The old Kindred saying went, “Show me a government, and I’ll show you a Ventrue pulling the strings.”
He wore something more youthful than normal. He wore a tight shirt with a picture of a unicorn on the front. The shirt was just a bit too short, exposing a smooth and slim abdomen. Jeans hugged his lower half and fun sneakers completed the ensemble. Even his jacket was more fun. He’d went to a thrift store and found a red and white letterman jacket with the letter J. stitched into the fabric. His hair was cutely combed to the side.
“Ready to go in,” he asked Sam, breaking the silence. They were standing near the inner gates.
