Was he her bodyguard? While that might be his job and official reason for being here, it definitely wasn’t the only one. There was a possessiveness in his gaze when he looked at her that revealed deeper motives.
If he was in charge of Ama’s safety, I wouldn’t blame him for getting worked up about her running off.
There weren’t many individuals bold enough to outright threaten one of the other houses, especially not their heirs, but somehow, I think exceptions might be made for Ama. Not only was she a hybrid, which would cause a lot of controversy by itself, but she was also the House of Death’s heir.
A house that had continuously held the Supreme position for several cycles.
A position that was envied by even my parents, who usually didn’t make a large bid for it.
Why had her father sent her with only one guard if he wasn’t here to represent their house? I found myself getting pissed at her father for putting her in such a precarious situation.
My jaw clenched imagining the scenario if she had instead run into the rulers from the House of Fallen. They were a prideful group who weren’t secretive about their extreme dislike for hybrids. They were also deadly. I would have to keep an eye on Ama. There were too many threats, and with the way she was flying around alone, I had a feeling that she wasn’t well aware of them.
That kind of ignorance could get you killed around here.
“So friendly,” Ama mused while watching our small interaction. She smiled slyly at Drayven, “Who knew you had manners?”
I found myself smiling purely because she was, and then I felt like an idiot because I hadn’t managed to say anything to draw her attention back to me. Something I very much wanted.
“Any chance you want to sit near me at dinner as an ally?” I offered, causing Drayven to narrow his eyes at me. He didn’t say anything, though. Smart man. I didn’t like to use my position of power or our house’s relationship with House of Death, but if it meant spending time with her, I would do exactly that. Not that I expected anything romantic to come of it—the woman was gorgeous and clearly way out of my league—but being her friend? Keeping an eye on her while she ran around the Summit? I would do that, for sure.
It would be a privilege.
Damnit, I knew Hellhounds could be protective, but that instinct had never really been triggered in me before. It was overwhelming, to say the least.
Ama nodded her head, looking enthusiastic—and a bit spastic, if we were being completely honest.
“Yes! After all, we need to build alliances and stuff like that, right?” she asked with so much enthusiasm I wondered if maybe she did like political shit after all.
“You should not have had so much caffeine,” Drayven muttered, glancing back at me and offering a nod as Ama practically floated ahead towards the doors that led inside. My eyes were absolutely glued to the pixie-like woman, who seemed to tease the Reaper with her very existence.
Would it be rude to ask what their relationship was? Somehow, I felt like it would be. Did I care? Yeah. Oddly, I did care what she thought of me. My chest tightened as I considered why the idea of her being more than just friends with him bothered me so much.
This was exactly why I probably wasn’t going to be a good king. Look how easily distracted I was! To be fair, Ama was an absolutely gorgeous distraction, but still.
“Who was that?” a familiar voice asked from beside me.
I shouldn’t have been surprised he was around. I didn’t have many friends from the other houses, and the House of Shadows was so far the opposite of Hellfire, it wasn’t even funny, but Adrien was a good guy.
He hid in the shadows a lot, kept to himself, and was fairly cold towards others, but he was someone who could be trusted. He’d been at most of the few events I’d attended in the capital before, and we usually ended up hanging out.
Of all the heirs, he was the most bearable. Although, that had changed now that I’d met Ama. She was far more than “bearable”.
“House of Death’s heir, Ama,” I looked at my friend, who was watching her with a curiosity that was frankly a bit unsettling. Despite our friendship, I still didn’t know a lot about Adrien, other than how dangerous he was. That was obvious from just being around him. He was insanely powerful without even trying to show it.
That protective surge of energy grew in my chest, and I suddenly wished he had never seen her. I wished that she wasn’t even here to begin with. I wanted her to be my secret. I’d hoard her away like my most prized treasure.
I nearly shook my head at that. I was positive the woman was never wanting for attention, and mine was probably nothing to her. Inconsequential.
Letting out a disappointed sigh, I removed the notion from my head and strode towards the doors. Adrien didn’t follow, and I briefly wondered why, but I never understood most of the things the man did. It was possible he didn’t even plan to go to the introductions.
As I entered the large estate, I noted that the gathering lunch crowd consisted of a large number of people surrounding each houses’ leadership, though not all of the heirs were present. My eyes were immediately drawn to Ama. Drayven hadn’t been lying—she did seem as if she had consumed a lot of caffeine, bouncing on her toes slightly as the two of them stood to the side of the crowd talking. No one seemed inclined to approach them. So, without meeting my parents’ gaze, I headed in Ama and Drayven’s direction. I could feel eyes following me and, as I neared them, Ama’s gaze snapped to mine.
“Wondered when you were going to join us,” she hummed, amused. “I was just telling Drayven that I was really, really hoping they had more than salad for lunch. I went to an event recently in our territory, and the main course was a salad. Can you believe that?!” The woman shuddered as if the thought was unthinkable, and I was almost damn positive I fell in love with her at that exact moment.
Honestly, I didn’t disagree with her. Having a salad as your main course was just wrong, but having a woman be so open about her love of food was a bit of a turn on.
Before I could say anything, the doors to the dining hall opened, and I steeled myself, knowing that these introductions were going to be a bunch of bullshit. I followed Ama towards the seats set aside for House of Death at a large table and grabbed one of the House of Hellfire seats that happened to be right next to hers.
Distantly, I felt my parents sit down beside me and attempt to gain my attention, but they were the last thing on my mind. I was starting to think that this whole thing just might be bearable after all. All because of Ama.
Chapter Fourteen
Ama
Everyone had their weaknesses. I didn’t have many, but the ones I did have were pretty noticeable. Like being a hybrid in a society that valued purity of bloodlines.
However, I had not expected this new weakness to form. A weakness for multiple princes. I was practically bouncing in my chair trying to not feel hyper-aware of how close the Hellhound prince was sitting to me. Drayven was right—I shouldn’t have had four of those damn energy drinks before coming to lunch. I had slept like shit and thought the drinks would energize me into a happy mindset…instead, they had just made me hyper and extra-anxious. Just like Drayven had claimed they would. Damn him. I hated when he was right.
I also hated that I could feel people staring at me.
Why had I assumed I would be able to eat lunch in peace before meeting the others?
Also, why the hell wouldn’t they have us introduce ourselves before we all sat down at a table together? Oh right, most people already knew each other. At least I had a basic understanding of who belonged to what house and their names from Otto’s lessons. I fought the urge to fidget in my chair at the thought of being so outnumbered by unknowns. Don’t look over here, I am just fine, promise, not embarrassing myself or anything…
“Ama, are you okay?” Damien’s voice was rough and caused my skin to break out in chills and my toes to curl. The Hellhound shifter had the type of voice you expected to hear the morning aft
er a fantastic night of sex. Slightly raspy and care free.
I looked up from where I’d been staring at the table in thought and saw the room bustling as people filed in and took their seats. From what I gathered, there were three spots for each house at the large, round table we were at: one each for the current ruling king and queen, and one for their heir. Thankfully, the organizers had thought to remove the queen’s chair for the House of Death—where my mother would have sat, had she been at all present. Instead, Drayven sat next to me in place of my father and I knew that the two of us were garnering attention at the table of seventeen.
“Of course, why?” I asked. The man clearly didn’t want to be here any more than I did, but his bonfire scent was absolutely intoxicating, wrapping around me and making this situation a tad more tolerable. Were his eyes really that golden, or was I imagining that?
I swallowed nervously, trying to not blush at how the man seemed to just fill all of the space between us so easily. He wasn’t even trying to hit on me or anything like that. He was just really large, and I could practically feel his Hellhound magic swirling beneath the royal facade, as if his nice clothes could hide what a dangerous predator he was.
“You’re talking to yourself.” His lip twitched, indicating his amusement as a bright blush formed on my cheeks and I darted my eyes away from his, knowing I’d be putty in this Hellhound's hands if he ever actively tried to flirt with me. His handsome face was a deep golden tan, contrasted by dark, messy hair that somehow managed to make him look wild and reckless.
“I didn’t mean to—”
Before he could finish his sentence, someone cleared their throat, and my gaze snapped to the figure standing across the massive circular table from me. I felt my eyes widen and my face drain of color. Then, I got pissed.
This asshole. He’d said he’d be here, but I hadn’t expected him to be at this table with the Monarchs.
“Nice to see you again, Princess.”
Mr. Sexy Asshole from the restaurant stood there, looking ridiculously hot in a pair of dress pants and a button-down shirt that should have looked stuffy but somehow added to his effortless look. His pale blonde hair was pushed back out of his unusual onyx and pearl eyes, which watched me with an intensity that didn’t match his casual words.
Had he been that large and muscular last time I’d seen him? The color rushed back to my face as I remembered the dream I’d had about him.
I wanted to know if we had shared that dream, but I wasn’t brave enough to ask him. No—I was scared of knowing his answer.
“Wish I could say the same,” I sniped back immediately, feeling Drayven tense next to me. Well, more than he already was, anyway. I nearly jumped when his rough hand wrapped around my leather covered thigh, giving it a warning squeeze. Which I ignored. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so snippy out loud, but hey, no take backs.
Mr. Sexy Asshole’s smile widened, “Oh I doubt that, although you didn’t have to spill a drink on me this time to get my attention.” I could feel people watching us, but I tried to block them out. Somehow, this banter with him made me feel more comfortable.
I scoffed, “Yes, that’s exactly what I was trying to do. Get your attention. You were just so ridiculously attractive that I was overwhelmed by my desire for you and decided that, instead of approaching you like a normal person, I should spill your drink on you. Is that right?”
“Sounds about right.” He shrugged, his eyes darting to Drayven beside me. He must not have liked what he saw, because he narrowed his eyes for a moment before pulling out his chair and sitting down.
“Colt, honey, you didn’t tell me you knew the House of Death’s heir.” A feminine voice had my eyes darting over to the smaller, delicate woman sitting next to him. She had the same pale blonde hair, and her perfectly fitted dress made her look all that much more elegant. A crown, similar to her son’s, sat atop of her head.
“We met briefly.” Colt shrugged, his emotions seeming to shutter as a man sat down next to him. The man’s gaze was far colder than the woman’s, and he looked me over before shifting his focus to Drayven, a look of disgust briefly flashing across his features before he steamrolled over both Colt and his mother.
“You must be the hybrid princess.” His eyes darkened as they focused on me once more, “I have no idea why your father would send you here. He's well aware that we don’t mingle with anyone not of pure blood. You being here is a disgrace to this entire Summit.”
Well, then. At least I was familiar with this type of situation. People openly hating me. I knew I needed to handle this with cold detachment and show that his words would not faze me. He was a bully, and bullies fed on knowing they were making their victims uncomfortable, be it physically or emotionally.
I smoothed my black chiffon blouse, which looked sleek against my red leather pants. Maybe I should have worn a dress to be more formal, but I had decided to only give into that level of formality for the actual ball. For now, I’d stay true to myself.
Damien let out a low growl, and I just patted his hand gently before leaning forward, my eyes on the King of the House of Fallen. “Listen, I understand you think your opinion of me is important. That you think you’re somehow knocking me down a peg. But let me be very clear: I don’t care what you think, and I would probably watch how you talk to me, considering you are not in the position of power here and have no chance of being so anytime soon.”
Mic drop.
Drayven cleared his throat and the man stood, looking furious—as if he was seriously considering murdering me here and now. Instead, he stalked towards the door. Colt’s mother followed, her face pinched, and my gaze slowly slid back to Colt. Fuck. What the hell was that look?
I hadn’t been scared of him before, but the way he was staring at me was so intense, it caused heat to prickle the back of my neck. I turned towards Drayven to break the tension and found the Reaper watching me with interest.
“You did well not backing down in front of everyone,” he assured me quietly.
I countered, “He’s just another person who hates me because of how I was born. I’m used to that and quite familiar with how to handle those people.” A shadow fell over Drayven’s features, and he seemed to consider something before nodding. I tried to break the weird tension that descended.
“Who was that, anyway?”
“King Celorn and Queen Kahli of the House of Fallen,” Drayven began, lowering his voice as he nodded to the two rulers on my left, “King Drax and Queen Emberleigh are Damien’s parents.”
“House of Hellfire,” I murmured, peeking over to where the two individuals Drayven had indicated leaned over talking to Damien in hushed tones. Soft violins and pianos had begun to play. Unfortunately, between the two, I couldn’t hear what they were saying to him.
The woman’s gaze snapped to mine, her amber eyes warming momentarily before shifting back at her son. Well, at least that was one person who didn’t hate me. I wasn’t saying she liked me, but she didn’t hate me, and that was a start.
“They hate King Celorn,” Drayven added. Ah, that explained it.
“Then you have King Roarke and Queen Ava.” His voice stayed low as he continued, and my gaze followed around the table, to the spot between Colt’s family and Damien’s. Immediately, my cheeks went up in flames because Finias was staring at me, openly. Drayven let out a sound from his chest, and I brought my elbow back slightly, scowling at him before looking back at Finias.
Except, he wasn’t looking at me anymore.
A man I could only assume was Finias’ father—the similar hair color and lean build were pretty telling—had a hand on Finias’ arm as he leaned down and whispered something. My gaze narrowed on the man’s grip, which was almost bruising. While I knew Finias was more than capable of defending himself, it made me uncomfortable to see how his father was treating him. It didn’t help that the woman standing next to him was watching her son with an indifferent, almost annoyed look.
When they took the
ir seats, Finias looked back at me, and my chest squeezed at the flash of vulnerability—and something far darker—on his face. He immediately sealed off the emotion and kept his gaze on the table in front of him, his jaw tight as he tapped his fingers against the wood surface. His words from the night before, talking about his parents, echoed in my mind, and I found my temper growing as I considered the possibility that they were hurting Finias.
I nearly jolted at the screeching sound of a chair being pulled out, and I looked around to find Colt’s parents had returned. Colt was still staring at me, but his parents were talking heatedly, and his sigh of annoyance was clear as day from across the room. I turned back to Drayven, not wanting to spend more time than necessary focused on that jerk.
“That is King Marcelo and Queen Anastasia from the House of Sin.” My gaze continued around the circle to find Nico sitting between two beautiful individuals. Damn. The House of Sin was unsurprisingly filled with painfully attractive people, and their heir, Nico was no different.
I had thought he’d looked good when I first met him, but it was nothing compared to how he looked now. His sharp jawline was shaved clean, and rich brown hair, accented with caramel highlights, lay around his golden face. The man was aesthetically perfect, and I could tell that, underneath the outfit he was wearing, he had a body to match. His golden eyes darkened when they met mine, his wink and sexy smile causing my breath to hitch.
Drayven’s hand, which for some reason was still on my leg, tightened, but he didn’t say anything. Or maybe he did...I really wasn’t sure. I was far too caught up in watching how the king and queen from the House of Sin were interacting with members of their house. They were married, right? I was sure they were, but the way they were acting...
Insurrection (Monarchs of Hell Book 1) Page 12
