The Vampires' Blood Mate: A Paranormal Reverse Harem Romance
Page 51
Weapons are strictly forbidden at these gatherings. Nobody here is armed. It’s a Shayde convention that goes back generations, brought on when a vampire family invited all its rivals to a banquet and slaughtered them after dinner.
Raven’s wearing the Daggers of Xerxes on her back. For her to be armed at this gathering, she would have needed dispensation from Astrid. She doesn’t realize it, but both Astrid and Kaleb have personally guaranteed the safety of every guest here.
On the other hand, the message is not lost on anyone else in the room. Good.
I can’t take my eyes off her. Tonight, she’s not shy. She’s not retreating from the fight. She blazes as bright as the sun, and she sends a very clear message to every single person in the room. I’m here. Deal with it.
My lips curl in admiration. Saber, Nero, and Zeke are lucky men.
“Thorsson.” An aggressive male voice interrupts my reverie. I look up to see Vincent Kevis scowling at me.
Fucking wonderful. Now I’m going to have to listen to him whine for the next hour about how he was next in line to be Commander of the Imperial Army. There is not enough slenti at this party.
Sure enough, he launches into his complaint. “I had seniority,” he snaps. “Why the fuck did you make Saber Hafsson the acting commander instead of me?”
Let’s see, where should I start? Patrik Kevis conspired with Gerra Clay to send assassins after me; Vincent is his only child. He would have known.
Or should I lead with Vincent’s failure in Deina? He’d undoubtedly been acting on Harek Levitan’s orders, but five thousand soldiers died as a result of his machinations. He’s got blood on his hands.
I settle for the simplest answer. “It was Astrid’s decision, not mine.”
“Bullshit. Everyone knows Astrid does whatever you want.”
If only. If that were the case, I’d be drowning my sorrows in a bar where no one will recognize me. I wouldn’t be in this mirrored ballroom where, everywhere I turn, I see the woman I can’t allow myself to have.
I drain my glass. Kevis’ words walk on the knife-edge of treason. “Do you know why you aren’t the acting commander, Kevis? Because you’re stupid enough to say those words out loud.”
I turn away from him and look for another drink. I’ve just found one when Kaleb Nedwa comes up to me.
Kaleb’s been on the Ruling Council since before I was born, and despite that, I genuinely like the older vampire. “Saber tells me he met her on Boarus 4,” he says, his gaze following mine. “I haven't been to the outer colonies in years, but a trip might be in order.”
There’s no point pretending that I don’t know what he’s talking about. “You’ll search a long time before you find somebody like her, Kaleb. Raven is… unique.”
“So it appears.”
He tilts his head to one side. “Should I ask why Harek Levitan isn’t here?”
Family Nedwa has put one of their own on the Ruling Council for generations. Kaleb was steeped in Shayde politics from the moment of his birth, but he hates it. He’s still damn good at it though. The real question is, how much have his spies discovered?
“The General is presently indisposed.”
“Indisposed,” he repeats. “Indisposed the same way Gerra Clay is currently indisposed?”
I give him a sharp look, and he returns it with a bland smile. My lips twitch. “No comment. On a different note, you haven’t changed your mind about retiring after Astrid’s coronation, have you?”
He shakes his head. “I've been a member of the Ruling Council for forty years, Ragnar. I've done my duty. I've seen too much, lived through too much. It is made me cynical and manipulative. The Empire deserves fresh blood. No, I’m looking forward to a quiet retirement. I’ve always wanted to learn how to play the sarod.”
“I didn't know you were musically inclined.”
He chuckles. “I'm not. It’s not going to stop me. One of the great joys of growing old is that you stop caring what other people think about you.”
I need to approach this next topic carefully. “I have a favor to ask.”
He raises an eyebrow.
I nod in Raven’s direction. “She's smart. She’s got a lot of heart. And without training, she won’t last a week in Starra. Before you retire, tutor her. Get her ready.”
The implications of my request hit him. “You don't mean…?” His voice trails away and a speculative look fills his eyes.
“You said it yourself, Kaleb. The Empire needs fresh blood.”
A slow smile forms over his face. “Saber made the same request a half an hour ago. I told him yes.”
I have to laugh. Of course, Saber would've put two and two together. He's not stupid. “Thank you. I am in your debt.”
“As I told Saber, a case of Corvallis slenti will settle it. Though, since Corvallis is Family Hafsson territory, I’ll have to find something else I want from you.”
Astrid and Raven are locked in conversation. Raven says something, and Astrid laughs. The eyes of every single person in the room are on them.
Raven has appeared out of nowhere, she is part of Saber’s bô, she is friendly with Astrid, and she wears the Daggers of Xerxes on her back. Power dynamics are being rewritten tonight, and the elites of Starra are taking note.
We need to double the guards on her.
The waiter comes by with a tray of slenti. I take two glasses. “If you'll excuse me, Kaleb?”
He nods serenely. Astrid sees me approach and cooperatively turns away to talk to somebody else, leaving Raven alone. I walk up to her. “Drink?”
She gives me a cautious look but takes the glass from my hand. “I'm afraid of spilling something on my dress,” she admits candidly. “The food looks amazing, but I’m terrified of eating it.”
I laugh quietly. “You look good. Red suits you.” She’d worn a red dress to Overlord Zimmer’s banquet as well, back on Boarus 4, the night she’d won the Night of the Shayde. And then she’d stolen my spaceship. She’s never predictable. Always interesting.
Her cheeks color. “Thank you.”
I incline my head toward a secluded corner where our conversation will not be overheard. She catches my meaning and follows me to it. I take a sip of my drink and search for the right words. “I'm sorry about last night.”
“Which part exactly are you sorry about?”
All of it. But even though I felt like an asshole all night long for hurting her feelings, I haven't changed my mind. Being with me is dangerous. She will face assassination attempt after assassination attempt. She will always be a target. She will always have to look over her shoulder. Always be alert, always be aware. She will never again have a moment of peace.
Being with Saber will expose her to some of that, but as Saber pointed out yesterday, he’s far down the line of succession. Not so with me. Until Astrid and Mazer get together and make babies, I am the heir to the throne. Being with me will come with an entirely different level of danger.
As much as I want her, I cannot do that to Raven.
“I shouldn’t have suggested that you owed me for Gerra Clay’s death. That was wrong of me.”
“You shouldn't have,” she agrees. “I owe you an apology as well. I shouldn't have said that you would compel me to sleep with you. You've never done anything to deserve that accusation. I'm sorry. I was upset, and I lashed out.”
I want her so badly. It’s painful to stand so close to Raven and not touch her. But nothing will ever happen between the two of us. I did more than shut the door last night. I slammed it, locked it securely, and threw away the key.
“Did Saber ever tell you why the two of us stopped talking?”
She nods. “You tried to warn him about Marya, and he thought it was because she was human.”
“Pretty much. I was offended that he thought so little of me. We both held on to our hurt feelings for too long.” I look down at her. “I don't want that to happen again. I don’t have very many friends. As Nasrim found out, it’s dange
rous to associate with me. But Saber is one of them, and I’d like to keep it that way. I don't want things to be awkward between you and me.”
Her blue eyes rest on me. “I don't want that either.”
I hold out my hand to her. “Can we pretend that last night didn't happen and start over? Friends?”
Say no. Tell me you're not interested in just being my friend. Tell me you want more. Tell me you want everything, little bird, and I will give it to you.
She places her hand in mine. “Friends.”
I tell myself it’s better this way. I almost believe it.
17
Raven
I don't have time to brood about Ragnar. I don't have time to relive last night’s ball, or wonder what Empress Astrid thinks of me. I don't even have time to fret about the miners on Boarus 4, about to be subject to another unfair blood tax increase, because, after what seems to be only a couple of hours of sleep, Nero’s shaking me awake.
I sit up, rub the sleep out of my eyes, and give him a bleary stare. “What time is it?”
“Five.”
“In the morning?” Why does Nero hate me?
The corners of his mouth turn up at my tone. “Yes, I'm afraid so.” He buys my forgiveness by handing me a cup of coffee. “We got nowhere yesterday,” he says. “Nobody in the Deeps will talk to a vampire. I searched everywhere for Mitch, but there's no sign of him. He's gone missing.”
Worry prickles through me. “Is he okay, do you think?”
He runs his fingers through his hair. It sticks up in every direction. “Probably,” he says. “The authorities have been sniffing around after the fire, and nobody in the Deeps wants contact with them. Mitch is most likely in hiding.” He sighs. “I could really use your help today.”
“Of course. Whatever you need.” I drain my coffee and swing out of bed. “Give me ten minutes to get ready, and we can leave.”
Nero's been awake long enough to make coffee as well as snag some pineapple buns from a vendor. The buns look delicious, and my stomach growls and my mouth waters, but I read the urgency on Nero’s face. He’s so rarely stressed, but tension fills every line in his body.
I can walk and eat at the same time. I grab three buns and stuff them in my pack. “Let’s go.”
We walk to Wyvern Tower. On the way, a human woman joins us. She is dressed in black from head to toe, the lack of color startling on Starra. Nero nods to her in greeting. “Raven, meet Shadow.”
“Shadow?”
She’s about my height. Her curly black hair is pulled back in a bushy ponytail. Her nose looks like it's been broken at some point in her life. Despite that, she looks like she would blend into a crowd.
I’m not fooled. I've met people like her on Boarus 4. She looks unassuming until you take a look at her eyes. There is a flatness in her expression. Detachment, the same kind of detachment I saw in Marya’s eyes. Shadow is a killer.
The woman shrugs at my question. “It's a nickname.”
“You can't go down to the Deeps with an entourage,” Nero explains. “Nobody will talk to you. So, a compromise. Shadow is your bodyguard. Don't go anywhere without her.”
“I’ll be good,” I promise. I’m shocked I’m being allowed to help. I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize that. “I’ll stick to her like…”
“A shadow.” Nero’s teeth flash white. “Good.”
We arrive at Wyvern and step into a chute. “We’re not the only ones looking for information, are we?”
He shakes his head. “We’ve got almost a hundred people working on it,” he says. “Humans, vampires. Anyone that can be trusted not to blab. It’s still not enough. More than four million people live in Sector Zero. We’ve told everyone we’re looking for some missing humans. Nobody really knows why.”
The chute lurches to a halt. We’ve reached Level 489. Nero taps my comm. “I won't be far away,” he says. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will,” I assure him.
Now that we’re here, Nero looks like he doesn't want to let me go. I give him a quick hug as the door slides open. “I don't like this,” he says gloomily. He gives Shadow a hard look. “If something happens to her, I'm holding you personally responsible.”
My bodyguard looks unintimidated. “Nothing will happen to her.”
I get out, Shadow in front of me, and wait until the doors close.
After my dress fitting yesterday, I spent some time on the InfoNet looking up information on the capital. Every tower on Starra has two thousand levels. Each level has the same basic layout. The area is divided into nine blocks. Two main streets run north to south and two others run east to west, bisecting them.
The blocks vary from tower to tower, and from level to level. Some blocks are residential hutongs, similar to the ones in Merin. Others are massive warehouses or retail establishments. Still others are factories, making everything from clothing to weapons.
While the main streets are relatively safe, everyone on the InfoNet agrees that once you enter a block in the Deeps, you’re on your own.
I walk north, heading toward Mirage, Shadow a careful half-step in front of me, her eyes flickering from side to side. It's dim here. The overhead lights flicker, and even though it’s technically morning, the overwhelming impression is one of gloom.
When we reach the club, I suck in a breath. Mirage had been massive, occupying almost half a block. Two days ago, it had been a hub of activity.
Not so now. The walls of the club are burnt. Glass is everywhere. There’s no-one in sight, but the hair on the back of my neck prickles. I'm convinced I’m being watched.
It’s eerie.
“What now?” Shadow mutters.
I pick a side alley at random. “This way.”
After an hour of walking, I'm getting cranky. A few times, I’ve seen groups of people in the distance, but as I near them, they melt away into the shadows. “Why won't anyone talk to us?”
“People saw you with Captain Calorio,” Shadow replies. “Words get around in the Deeps. Nobody will talk to you.”
I heave a sigh of exasperation. She could have said that to me an hour ago. “What do you suggest I do?”
She gives me an indecipherable look. “You could go back upstairs where you belong,” she suggests. “You tried your best.”
She thinks I belong upstairs? I fix her with an icy look. “I haven't done my best. I’m not going to turn back. So, you can either help me do something useful, or we can wander around for hours, getting nowhere.”
“Captain Calorio will not approve of what I’m going to suggest,” she says reluctantly. “But you won’t find a prison in the four-hundreds. If you want to get anywhere, you’ll need to head much lower.”
Zeke’s warning about the Lower Deeps ring in my ears. It’s almost a separate world down there.
“Is it dangerous?” Am I walking into an ambush? I want to make a difference, but I’ll achieve nothing by heedlessly throw myself into danger.
“For a vampire, yes. For a human, less so. The worst that can happen is that someone takes a fancy to you and doesn't like hearing the word no.” Her teeth bare into a feral smile. “I can handle that.”
I have no doubt of her skill. I reach a decision. “Okay. That's where we'll go.”
We cross to the nearest chute. I look at the buttons and see that the lettering on Level 63 is almost worn out. A lot of people go there then. That’s a promising sign. Swallowing my nerves, I hit it. “How do you know so much about the Lower Deeps?” I ask her as we start to move.
“I was born there,” she replies. “Spent my childhood on Level 35 in Nightshade Tower. I go back from time to time.”
“So, you're an expert.”
“There's no such thing. I know my way around Nightshade, but every tower is different.”
She's about my age. I'm curious about her. “You’re a part of Ragnar’s team, aren’t you? How does one go from the Lower Deeps to becoming one of the Prince’s guards?”
Oh wow. “How long ago was this?”
Her forehead wrinkles. “Twenty years, give or take. The Prince was fourteen. I was seven.”
“They let a seven-year-old human girl go up against a fourteen-year-old vampire?”
She chuckles softly. “It wasn't much of a fight. In the early days, Prince Ragnar was untrained. Soft. He foiled his first assassination attempt more by luck than skill.” Her voice turns admiring. “But he knew his weaknesses. They made him bleed in the Lower Deeps. They damn near broke every single bone in his body. But he learned to fight.”
We arrive at our destination and exit the relative safety of the chute. It's pitch black here, the darkness pressing down on us, smothering us. I reach for the torch that Nero made me pack, and turn it on, but the light barely pierces the gloom.
Before Ottar Thistle bit me, I would have been completely blind here. My vampire-bit senses help, but only a little. Shadow, on the other hand, glides forward as if she can see in the dark. Who knows, maybe she can. Nothing has the power to surprise me anymore.
We walk down one of the main thoroughfares. I think we’re heading north, but the darkness confounds my sense of direction. I can hear faint scuffles in the distance. Shadow’s steps don't falter, so the danger, if there is any, isn’t imminent.
We walk for what seems forever, though it’s probably less than thirty minutes. My eyes slowly adjust to the gloom. Judging by how worn out the chute button was, there should be plenty of people here, but once again, the level seems deserted. Faded flyers litter the road in front of us. Every window we pass is broken, and as we walk, we crunch over pieces of glass. Nothing moves.
I'm about to open my mouth and tell Shadow that this is a waste of time when I hear it.