by Becca Blake
Azalea nodded and rubbed her arm. “I’m sure I can handle it.”
His gentle treatment of her was a breath of fresh air after what she’d endured the previous day, and his calming presence put her at ease.
“Do you live up here?” Azalea asked as they neared the top of the stairs to the First District.
He snorted. “Do I look like nobility to you? Guards from our end of town see the other side of this gate maybe once a decade when they host a party, if we’re lucky.”
She wanted to ask him so many things—how long he’d been a vampire, how he’d come to Terra Nocturne. How he’d managed to hold on to some of his humanity and kindness despite what his people did to hers. But as they neared the top of the stairs, there was only one question she needed to know the answer to before her feeding with the most powerful vampire in the city.
“Should I be afraid of him?”
Nic stopped, his foot resting mid step in front of him. “You should be afraid of all of us,” he said quietly before continuing their ascent.
Just like in the Third District, two guards stood in front of the watchtower, which was identical to its partner deeper in the cave. The guards were dressed in fine armor that seemed to be more decorative than functional, a symbol of their status. The armor was embellished with detailed filigrees and accented with brilliant red capes. Their attire made it clear that they outranked Nic and the other guards at the twin watchtower, who all wore sleek black leather with no embellishments other than a line of red on the sleeves. The pair eyed Azalea and Nic warily as they approached. Their questioning gazes gave just as much scrutiny to her vampire escort as they did to her.
“What brings you all the way up here?”
“This elf says she was requested for a feeding with Lord Nero,” Nic said. “Captain Lucian directed me to take her to the castle.”
“That won’t be necessary.” A figure appeared from the shadows at the foot of the watchtower. “I will take her.”
If Lord Nero had been intimidating the previous night, tonight he was even more so. He was resplendent in a long, dark coat and a vest with silver embroidery that glimmered in the lamplight. He held out a hand for her.
Azalea dipped into a curtsy. “My lord, I apologize. I didn’t see you there.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d come.” He looked her over as though he still wasn’t sure if she’d really decided to come.
Instead of fleeing, Azalea willed her legs forward until she was close enough to accept his outstretched hand. His fingers closed around hers, sending a chill shooting from the tips of her fingers, up her arm, and spreading through her body.
“Your assistance tonight is appreciated,” Nero said to Nic in a tone that made it clear he was dismissed.
Azalea met Nic’s curt nod with a small smile. “Yes, thank you for getting me here safely.”
At Nero’s command, the guards opened the gate, and he led Azalea into the First District.
As the gates closed behind them, Azalea looked on in awe at the architecture of the First District, all arches and tall spires. Strange, creeping plants with glowing blooms covered the walls of many of the buildings, and she paused to stare at them. No plant life grew deeper in the cavern, let alone anything like these beautiful vines. They were the first plants she’d seen since she walked the world above as a child. They glowed as though tiny, purple leyline crystals were embedded in every flower.
“What are they?”
“Leystar vines,” Nero said. “Named for the glowing flowers that look like stars in the dark.”
It had been so long since she’d seen stars, she hadn’t made the connection. But now that she looked at the vine, twinkling along the side of the building and extending into the unlit darkness above, the resemblance was clear. “How do they grow down here with no water or sunlight?”
“They only grow along leylines. It is believed that they have something to do with the magic in the earth, in the leyline that runs below this city.”
Azalea ran her fingertips along the leaves, pausing to hover her hand above one of the glowing bulbs. The pale, purple light illuminated her hand. “They’re beautiful.”
“They are.” Nero plucked one of the small flowers, holding it gently between his thumb and his first finger. He tucked it behind her ear.
They continued up the main street toward the castle that loomed above the city, unmistakable for its size and beauty. She’d only ever seen it as a tiny spec in the distance, all the way across the city from where she lived. Up close now, she could see how the spires brushed against the top of the cavern far above them, each with an arched balcony overlooking the city. Huge windows stretched across several floors, glowing with pale light from inside. It was nestled into the walls of the cavern, almost seeming to merge with the rock in places.
“Here we are,” Nero said.
Azalea froze in front of the castle, unable to take another step. Inside, Lord Nero would demand the feeding he expected from her. As she imagined it, Darien’s body was atop hers again, smothering her under its weight, as her last attempt at feeding flashed before her.
But she wasn’t there anymore. That was last night. Tonight, she was in front of Lord Nero’s castle. He had assured her that she would be safe, that she wouldn’t be forced to do anything she didn’t want to. This was nothing like with Darien.
And yet, the blood surrounding her was so vivid in her memory that she could feel it slick on her skin even now as she ran a hand down her arm.
“I can’t do this.”
10
Azalea wasn’t sure what sort of reaction to expect from Lord Nero, but she expected something. Anger at her rejection, perhaps? Instead, he turned toward her with a blank expression that betrayed no emotion at all. He let her words hang heavy in the air until she felt the urge to continue speaking.
“I’d like to go home now.” Azalea pulled Miria’s green cloak tighter around her shoulders, more to ward off the company than any sudden chill. When Nero still did not respond to that, she found the confidence to add, “This was a mistake.”
She winced at the cool touch of his fingertips under her chin, which he lifted until her gaze met his.
“This was a mistake,” she repeated, though her voice wavered more this time. “I don’t belong here.”
“Nonsense,” Nero said. “You’re here at my request. If I say you belong, then you do.”
“You said I wouldn’t have to feed you if I don’t want to? That you wouldn’t force me to do it?”
“That is what I said, yes.”
“And you meant it?”
“I did.”
Azalea bit her bottom lip. “I don’t want this.”
“Then you have my word. I will not drink from your vein tonight.”
“So, I can go home?”
“You’ve come all this way, and it’s an awfully long walk back all alone. I would be so disappointed if you chose to go home without joining me for dinner.” As he tucked away stray strands of her hair, his hands lingered on the tips of her pointed ears.
“I’d be a fool to turn down dinner with the lord of Terra Nocturne,” she said, knowing it was what he expected to hear. “I’ll join you. As long as you keep your word.”
Instead of answering, Nero spun her around and pressed his body against her back. He swept her hair in front of her shoulder and leaned in, hovering his mouth just over the base of her throat.
She gasped. “You said—”
“That I would not drink from your vein tonight. And that is a promise I intend to keep.” He brushed his lips along the nape of her neck, pausing only to press a soft kiss against her throat. His breath, unnaturally cool on her skin, sent a shiver up her spine. “No matter how much you’ll wish I didn’t by the end of the night.”
She shuddered, and against her will, a tiny moan escaped through he
r lips. “I won’t,” she murmured, though her breathlessness betrayed her.
Seemingly satisfied with her reaction, he released her and gestured for her to start walking. She followed his lead silently, still shaken from the feel of him pressed against her.
He’d given his word, but how much was the word of a vampire king even worth?
Inside, a tall woman greeted them at the doorway. She was dressed in a silky white dress with black embroidered trim that flowed with every movement she made. Her rich, brown hair had streaks of honey blonde strands throughout, and her skin looked soft and smooth.
“Welcome home, my lord.” A warm smile accompanied the woman’s motherly tone.
“Thank you, Eryn,” Nero said. “Would you please take Azalea upstairs to be dressed more appropriately? She’s to join me for dinner within the hour.”
“Of course.” Eryn curtsied for Nero, then took Azalea’s hand. “Come along, dear.”
Two sets of stone stairs on either side of a huge doorway met at a landing that led to the second floor. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling far above. Eryn led Azalea up the right side of the staircase. At the top of the landing, the hallway stretched into a corridor filled with various statues and artifacts resting on pedestals. Azalea wanted so badly to stop and examine each one, to take time to admire the artistry, but Eryn rushed her through the hallway too quickly for her to do anything more than take quick glances as they passed by.
Eryn opened a door and ushered Azalea inside. “Wait in here, miss. I’ll be back.”
The bed at the center of the room was obscured by gold and purple curtains that draped down from the four posts. Azalea sat on a bench at the foot of the bed, sinking into the plush seating.
She didn’t have to wait long before Eryn returned, accompanied by another woman, a blonde elven girl who appeared to be much younger in appearance and demeanor than Eryn.
“This is Irena,” Eryn said, gesturing to the blonde. The pair of them wasted no time and spared no modesty in undressing Azalea.
“You’re so lucky!” Irena squealed. Her tumbling curls bounced about as she fussed over Azalea’s hair.
“You’re going to have a lovely time tonight,” Eryn agreed. “Come along—let’s get you dressed. You won’t want to be late for dinner.”
Azalea followed Eryn across the room to a wardrobe made of a rich, cherry-brown wood. Eryn swung open the wardrobe door, revealing fine dresses of all shapes and colors.
She eyed Azalea, evaluating her briefly before pulling out a long, black dress. “This one should do nicely.”
“Does he keep dresses on hand for all the women he brings home?”
Eryn scoffed. “Hardly.”
“This wardrobe belonged to his sister a long time ago,” Irena said, gathering Azalea’s hair.
“This will be the first time he’s fed from someone in centuries,” Eryn said.
Azalea’s head snapped toward Eryn, yanking her hair out of Irena’s hands. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said,” Eryn huffed.
“He never feeds from anyone—not that any of us have ever seen. He only drinks blood from a goblet,” Irena said.
“Why?” Azalea asked.
Irena shrugged. “I don’t think he likes to get close to people. Even living here in his castle, we don’t see or interact with him very often.”
Eryn turned over Azalea’s wrist, eying the nasty bands of bruising. She was kind enough not to say anything, but the disapproval was clear in her eyes. Before Azalea could pull her arm away, Irena hovered over her with a cream that matched her skin tone, covering up the bruises all over her body.
“But he’s good to you?” Azalea asked. The tension in her shoulders slipped away as she stepped into the gown.
“He is.” Irena rubbed a smoky black powder on Azalea’s eyelids while Irena fastened the back of the dress. “Lord Nero inviting me to work here is the best thing that happened to me since I was brought to this city.”
Stolen, Miria would say. Azalea could hear her friend’s voice saying it as clearly as if she were standing right next to her. No matter how kind Nero was to his serving staff, he still held every one of them in captivity. Miria wouldn’t forget that. Azalea shouldn’t forget it either. And yet, these elven women seemed genuinely thrilled to serve him.
“So if you don’t feed him, do you at least warm his bed?” Azalea asked, still not sure she understood.
“Never,” Eryn said.
“I wish,” Irena said with a wistful sigh.
That Nero never fed from or fucked his servants was a surprise to her. She always pictured the king of the city surrounded by a harem of beautiful elven women, all prepared to feed him on command. The vision of Lord Nero as a reclusive loner who never fed directly from mortals’ veins and never indulged sexual desires seemed strange.
“I haven’t given any blood at all since he brought me to live here,” Eryn said. “Which is perfectly fine with me. I never cared for those needles.”
Azalea pouted out her lips so Irena could smear a deep red lipstick onto them, which saved her from having to respond. Maybe Miria would be able to tolerate working for a vampire if it meant she never had to endure them taking her blood again.
Maybe. But it wouldn’t matter unless Nero invited Azalea to work in the castle and allowed Miria to come as well. And the chances of that seemed slim.
Unless she could find a way to capture his attention. She’d already done so when she killed Darien. If she could keep his interest, then maybe...
She didn’t have time to continue wondering about all of the maybes. The two women stepped away from her, looking her over the way she looked at her own illustrations when they were finished, searching for any missed or forgotten details that needed to be touched up. Eryn gave a satisfied nod, then showed Azalea over to a floor-length mirror on the other side of the room.
The sheer black material of the dress swayed across the floor, teasing hints of her legs as she walked. The neckline scooped down between her breasts, which were in danger of being exposed by a single wrong movement, and the back came down in an even lower V. They’d left the glowing flower from the leystar vine in her hair, which hung in thick, dark waves around her face. There was no jewelry to accompany the garment, leaving her neck bare—open and accessible in case Nero changed his mind about keeping his promise to her.
Even the bruising from the attack she’d experienced had been temporarily erased, allowing her to pretend, if only for a night, that it had never happened.
“Do you like it?” Irena asked.
The woman who stared back in the mirror looked nothing like her, with her perfectly polished face and stunning dress. Azalea had seen women like this as a child in Viridi, but after her relocation to Terra Nocturne, she never dreamed she would ever look this beautiful herself.
“Yes,” she breathed out, blinking back the tears that threatened to ruin all of the work Irena had done on her makeup. “I love it.”
“Good. Let’s get you back downstairs so you can join Lord Nero,” Eryn said.
Azalea’s feet wobbled on the heeled shoes as she walked. The shoes held her feet at an uncomfortable, unfamiliar angle, and it took her some time to find her balance. The bruising on her legs made every step painful. She wished they’d been able to find her a different pair of shoes to accompany the dress.
Eryn led her down the hallway, back toward the main staircase. At the bottom of the stairs, Nero waited for her, watching patiently as she descended.
Despite the pain from the unfamiliar shoes, Azalea couldn’t help but smile as she walked down, feeling like a princess of the court on her way to meet her prince. Nero was a king, after all, and in that moment, it was easy to forget her place in this society, to forget where she’d come from.
He met her gaze as he kissed her hand, the vision of a perf
ect gentleman. “You look stunning.”
Her cheeks warmed. “Thank you, my lord.”
Lord Nero led her through the huge double doors at the base of the staircase and into an enormous hall. At the far end was a throne of elegantly carved stone, elevated on a platform that overlooked the room. In the center was a long table set only for two, though the room itself had space enough for dozens of such tables.
He pulled out a chair for her, then took his seat on the opposite end of the table. As soon as they were settled, a serving girl approached with a pitcher full of crimson liquid in hand.
He eyed it, then shook his head. “Wine tonight, please. For both of us.”
The girl nodded, then disappeared through a doorway off to the side of the hall. She reemerged with a different pitcher, then filled both of their goblets.
“Thank you,” Azalea murmured.
She took the goblet and swirled the wine around. She didn’t usually drink, though she supposed it would be rude not to. She took a small sip and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was rich and flavorful, a smooth, pleasant drink that left a sweet taste in her mouth even after she’d swallowed. It was nothing like the stuff Miria drank, which tasted like piss as far as Azalea was concerned.
“If the drinks in the Third District tasted like this, maybe I would drink more often,” Azalea said.
Nero smiled. “Perhaps you should join me for dinner again so you can try more.”
Before she could respond, dinner was served. The serving girl returned with a plate piled high with a variety of meats, cheeses, and vegetables Azalea didn’t recognize and set it on the table in front of her. The first few savory bites were filled with rich flavor and strong spices, unlike anything she was used to eating. The taste was overwhelming, and she soon resigned herself to picking at tiny bites of the feast in front of her.
She observed Nero as he ate. From across the table, he looked like he could be any normal mortal lord. Elven, or human, but certainly not a monster. Still, the knowledge of what he was had her on edge. Even with a long table between them, she was terrified of him.
