by J. D. Brown
The King chuckled, but it sounded forced as color bloomed across his cheekbones. “May I have this dance?”
My throat dried and my tongue suddenly felt too big for my mouth as I blinked up at him. “Me?”
Brinnon’s yellow gaze lowered to the marble floor and then slowly rose, scanning every inch of my dress, my bust, my neck, my face. He held my gaze a moment, then cocked his eyebrow. “Please?”
I didn’t know what to say. After everything Maria just told me about the first dance... I looked at Jesu for help and regretted it immediately. His gaze narrowed to slits and his thin lips seemed caught somewhere between a growl and a grimace. Jesu took my hand and removed it from his arm.
“Go on,” he said through clenched fangs. “Dance with the King.”
I looked at Brinnon’s outstretched hand and hesitated. Then I realized everyone in the ballroom was staring at me. Even Princess Sara. Somehow, it seemed worse to reject the King on his big day, in front of literally everyone. I swallowed my nerves and smiled.
“I would be honored, Your Majesty.”
Brinnon released a small sigh as I took his hand. He bowed low and brushed his lips briefly across my knuckles. I had no idea what I was doing, but decided to follow his lead with a quick curtsy, praying all the while that the heavens would take pity and bestow some grace upon me.
We walked hand in hand to the center of the dance floor and then faced each other. Brinnon guided my left palm to his right shoulder, then clasped my right hand with his left. He pulled me into the first step.
Just like that, we were dancing; spinning in slow, wide circles. I wasn’t a ballroom dancer by any means, but my skirt was long enough to hide my awkward steps, so I focused on staying vertical. Forget elegance. If Brinnon wanted to look good, he should have picked a different dance partner.
Eyes followed our every move. I could feel them on my back. Whispers flew about the room, almost as loud as the music. I kept my gaze on Brinnon and tried to make sense of his choice, but his face—so much like his father’s—was the text book definition of impassive. I caved.
“Why are you doing this?” I whispered. “I know what this dance means. If you’re trying to hide your sexuality—”
His brow furrowed, and he pushed me—a little more forcefully than necessary—out into a one-handed spin. He pulled me against him in a flamboyant embrace that resembled a tango more than a waltz, his lips flush against my temple.
“I’m making a statement.”
I blinked, still trying to catch my bearings after that spin. “But I’m not going to marry—”
Brinnon bent me backwards in a dip. The room turned upside down as my gaze went to the faces of our disapproving audience.
“This is a game of chess,” Brinnon hissed while pulling me upright.
“Feels more like a carnival ride.”
“Ema, we are already united. We have already signed a document binding us together, until death do we part.”
“Fine, but I want a traditional white gown and a horse-drawn carriage to ride down the aisle.”
“This is serious,” he growled. “We have a problem. Tancred switched sides. He wants me to absolve the contract.”
“Wait, what?”
Brinnon slowed our steps with the music. The song was ending. “Wait for me in my chambers. I’ll explain everything.”
“What is there to explain? You’re the King, he’s the Second. Just ignore him.”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“But—”
The music came to a full stop, and the lights brightened. I winced as Brinnon pulled away and then bowed before his subjects. Maybe I was supposed to curtsy again, but I didn’t care. My gaze went to the crowed, searching for Jesu. I found Maria and Naamah first, and rushed toward them.
“The honest truth,” I said as I clasped onto Maria. “Did that look as embarrassing as it felt?”
Maria winced. “You dance quite well.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh yeah? Then why do you look ill?”
“Probably for the same reason you look all flustered.” Naamah scanned the room and then frowned. “We should go.”
I rubbed my cheeks. My face was burning.
“Come.” Maria took my elbow and guided us toward the main hall. I went willingly and kept my head down. Brinnon had already picked another young lady to dance with, but everyone was still staring at me, and a few of them looked like they wanted to scratch my eyes out. I didn’t care. I was more worried about what Brinnon had said. Tancred was on our side—or at least on the side of his sovereign. Why would he want Brinnon to absolve the contract?
Why now?
VALAFAR
Find the ring.
Find the ring.
Find the ring.
Sweat glistened over the beautiful plump arse as it bobbed rhythmically along my cock. I took another swig of brown liquid, grimacing as the alcohol burned a path down my throat, and then dropped the bottle. I could hardly see straight and lost the ability to feel my own dick hours ago.
“Everything okay back there, baby?”
Candi, or whatever her name was, grinned over her shoulder. She had red hair and the drapes matched the carpet.
“Yeah,” I grunted. But in truth, I was skirting that bad part of the night where I’d drank and fucked so much, it would take over an hour to come again. Candi pretended to like it—that was her job—but even numb out of my damn mind, the friction was getting to be a bit much.
“Why don’t you lie down,” she suggested. “Let me do the work.”
She’d already been doing all the work. I just stood on my knees like a toddler.
Pain whipped through my skull, enough to throw me off balance.
Find the ring.
Find the ring.
Find the ring.
“Shit.” I pulled out and sat on my heels, my head in my hands.
Candi crawled across the pink satin bedsheets and kissed my shoulder. Her strawberry scented lip-gloss was sticky and she smelled like cum. She reached for my manhood. I smacked her hand away. She looked at me, all attitude.
“Go find me a bump or something,” I said, waving her off as I scooted to the edge of the mattress. One of the sheets was partially twisted around my left calf.
“I got some Oxycodone in the other room,” she offered, sounding bored.
“Well go get it, sweetheart. And bring that Austrian bloke with you.”
Candi pushed off the bed and sauntered out of the room. God, she had a great arse. Firm. Her tits weren’t bad either. I pulled the condom off and tossed it aside before laying back against the satin pillows. My head pounded. The sire bond rattled through my skull like pennies in a tin can, pushing me to get up, to go back. I just wanted one night off; one night of drunken debauchery and bad choices before I had to risk seeing Brinnon’s face again. One night to forget the chasm in my heart.
Find the ring.
Find the ring.
Find the ring.
“Shut up.” I threw my arm over my eyes and growled. Nausea prodded somewhere low in my gut, but I refused the urge. My liver could take it. My head needed it.
The bedroom door creaked open.
“Finally.” I removed my arm and squinted through the neon bar lights filtering past the gauzy pink curtains, but it wasn’t Candi or the cute Austrian guy in the doorway. Adrenaline zinged through my system. I bolted upright and yanked the bedsheets over my privates. “Jesus bloody Christ, Dora, what the fuck are you doing?”
My sister stood with her arms crossed, hip jutted to one side, her brow cocked in that “you’re busted, mister” kind of way. Thankfully, the black leather corset she wore covered her tits, but the thong... I kept my eyes well above her neck.
“Heard you were here,” she said.
“Put some pants on,” I grumbled. “You look like a bloody whore.”
She scanned the bodies on the floor and sighed. “Well at least none of my prostitutes are dead. That
man in the corner, though...” She nodded to an elderly human who lay crumpled in the corner, his hands wrapped around a bottle in a brown paper bag like he was clutching a teddy bear. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember where I picked him up or who he was.
“Least he died happy?” The bloke actually did have a smile on his rutty old whiskered face.
Dora gave me a condescending look. “Cassi said he O.D.’ed on coke and that you’re demanding more drugs. Oxycodone? Seriously?”
“Cassi?” I wrinkled my nose and eased into the pillows as white-hot flashes of pain sliced the backs of my eyes. “Could’ve sworn her name was Candi.”
“I told her to keep the Oxy and take five. You’ve been at it all night.” Dora came into the room and sat at the edge of the bed. “Want to talk about it?”
“About Candi? If we must. Her carpet matches the drapes, did you know?”
Dora rolled her eyes. “Fine. If you won’t talk, I will.” She switched to our native tongue, which was a dead language. “I’m pregnant, Val.”
“Congratulations. Let’s toast over it.” I laid the sarcasm on thick. A pregnant succubus wasn’t news.
“The father is human.”
That got my attention. Something about human blood decreased the impossibly high infant mortality rate of our kin. I looked at my sister, sat upright, looked at her again, and then decided she probably wasn’t joking.
“Why?” I asked.
“Why?” She chuckled. “Why not? I deserve to be happy. I deserve to have a family of my own, and this is probably my last chance. Not to mention our species is dying.”
“Let it die.”
A look of shock wiped the smugness from her face, and her brow slowly rose. “Val, I know you don’t think of family and children as anything to be happy about, and believe me, I understand why, but—”
“But what?” I snapped. “I’m supposed to be happy for you anyway? Assuming the child even lives past its first year, how long exactly am I supposed to pretend to be happy, hmm? Until Mum finds out? Longer? After we bury its entrails and cement the tomb? Am I supposed to be happy then? Am I supposed to sing about how lucky you were to know such joy while it lasted?”
I stood, taking the bedsheets with me, and nearly tripped over the part that was tangled around my leg. I wrangled myself free, grumbling and muttering the entire time.
“I’m sorry,” said Dora. “I guess I thought you could help.”
“Help? Help?” I faced her and laughed. “If you wanted to keep this a secret then you shouldn’t have told me. For fuck’s sake, Dora, you know better.”
She scowled. “I thought Mum was leaving you alone.”
“Yeah, well, she changed her mind.” I turned to look for my pants when a bolt of pain hit me in the back of my head and everything went dark.
Find the ring.
Find the ring.
Find the ring!
My vision came back slowly, blobs of color with the angles all wrong. I shook violently, a frost in my veins that bit and stabbed and trembled all the way to my core.
“Valafar.” Dora was on her knees beside me. Apparently I was curled up on the floor, the rancid taste of bile burning my throat. She pushed my knickers into my hands and helped me sit up. “Was that the booze, or...?” She looked at me, but I couldn’t stomach meeting her eyes and angrily looked away while sliding my clothes on. Dora stood and took a step back to give me space. There wasn’t much of it with seven adult vampires passed out on the floor.
I managed to pull on my trousers, found my sweater, and then stood. Shame kept me from looking at my sister. I didn’t want her pity.
She was determined to give it to me anyway.
“Oh, Val. What is she doing to you this time?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” I said sternly, warning her to drop it. As usual, she didn’t.
“You are so much stronger than her. I wish you saw that.”
She was wrong, but there was no use arguing. I pulled my sweater on then used the sleeve to wipe my mouth.
“If you want me to call someone—”
“No.” I glanced around, looking for my knit cap. I noticed a bottle of coca-scented body spray partially hidden under the bed and my heart stopped in my chest. Where the hell could that have come from? I’d given one just like it to Brinnon when we were in Italy. Wear it when it’s safe for me to appear. It wasn’t really needed, I just liked the scent.
Dora followed my line of sight, but the bottle meant nothing to her. She sighed. “I wish you’d let me help.”
“Forget it,” I said, tearing my gaze away from the floor. “I got to go.”
“Are you sure?”
My cellphone chimed in my pocket. I fished out the device and read the screen. The name Mummy Dearest scrolled across the caller ID. I chuckled and shook my head.
“Oh I’m sure, sis. Enjoy your pregnancy.”
CHAPTER 9
“Ema, what did Brinnon say to you?”
There was a sharpness to Maria’s tone as we climbed the foyer stairs. For the first time in what felt like weeks, the castle alcoves were empty. Everyone was in the ballroom, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. The night was nearly over, and I wanted to be in Brinnon’s room before the halls filled with his family again.
I shook my head and picked up speed, taking the steps two at time as I passed Maria and Naamah. “I’ll tell you when I know. In the meantime, please tell Naamah what I told you about Lilith.”
Maria looked ready to follow me, especially when I pulled open the door to the prince and princess wing, but Naamah stopped his wife with a wide hand around her arm. She looked up at him as I ducked into the shadowy corridor and released a small breath.
Brinnon’s bedroom was all slate grays and royal blues with minimal furniture and not a speck of dust. That’s when I realized my dress matched. Maria had chosen a gown in royal-Alpan-gray. An image came to my mind from a different angle than I had experienced it. The vision was of Brinnon and I swaying across the dancefloor—in matching colors—like some kind of ballroom contestants. I smacked my hand against my forehead and crumpled against the foot of the four-post bed.
“Oh man,” I groaned.
Not only did Brinnon shock everyone by choosing me for his first dance, but it totally looked like we planned it. I covered my face with my palms and screamed into them. I could just imagine what Brinnon’s family must think, not to mention all the Council members who were present.
I lowered my hands and sighed. I was embarrassed, but what could I do? According to Maria, Brinnon was obligated to dance with every eligible woman in attendance. That would take a while.
All I can do is wait.
I stood and went to the bookcase, hoping for something—anything—in English. When my hopes were dashed, I took a slow stroll around the room in search of anything that might help pass the time. Unfortunately, what little furniture the King possessed was definitely not being used as table space. Nothing but a plain notepad graced the writing desk. A single candlestick and incense burner stood on the nightstand. That was it. I wasn’t one to open drawers and dig around like Valafar...
Wait.
Incense burner?
I went to the apple-sized tin and removed the top. Fluffy white ashes powdered the inside of the bowl. I pressed a fingertip against them. The white flakes crumbled, giving way to the soot beneath. My fingertip came back black, and I held it under my nose.
I had gotten so used to the scent of Adders Tongue—the walls in the guest wing still smelled like smoke—I hardly noticed it in subtle amounts anymore. But it was Adders Tongue in the incense burner on Brinnon’s nightstand. Or, more correctly, Adders Tongue that had been burned not too long ago.
The bedroom door burst open, and I dropped the tin cover in place before turning. Brinnon kicked the door shut and strutted into the room. His hair stood in angry tuffs as he yanked silk handkerchiefs from odd places in his shirt and pants pockets—his jacket apparently missing
completely. Agitation flashed in his yellow irises as he muttered to himself in German.
“Brinnon?”
He jumped, caught off guard, and then sighed. “Forgive me. I forgot I told you to wait.” He caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror and grimaced. “Give me a moment to... remove all this.”
He went to his closet, opened one door, and then unbuttoned his shirt and tore it from his body like it was made of poison. I averted my gaze while the Prince—King—changed clothes. The burning question of the Adders Tongue balanced on the tip of my tongue, but I thought it better to wait and hear what Brinnon had to say about Tancred. After all, Valafar was a million miles away doing God-knows-what. Tancred was here in the castle.
The bedroom door barged open again, and this time I squeaked in surprise. A man in a black tux with tousled waves of hair that fell just over his eyes walked inside.
“I am not doing that again,” he said. Then, noticing me, he stopped. “Oh, she’s here.”
The vampyre swept his hair back before extending a hand in greeting. I recognized him. He had been the one near the bookshelf in the foyer; the one who defended me from Brinnon’s sister, Auda. He looked different in formal wear, but his eyes, copper and earthly like old pennies, were the same.
“I’m Roman,” he said in a soft French lilt.
Hesitantly, I took his hand and let him give mine a good shake.
“There, now we are introduced.”
“What did you tell them?” Brinnon asked while closing the closet door. He wore cotton slacks and a blue polo shirt. He carried a comb and ran it through his hair a few times.
“That you had explosive diarrhea,” said Roman.
Brinnon froze mid-comb and looked horrified.
Roman rolled his eyes. “What do you think I said? ‘Pardon me, sir, pardon the King’. You realize no one really cares where you wander off to.”
Brinnon scoffed. “If you truly believe that, why don’t you be king?”
That got a dark look from Roman. The vampyre promptly shut his mouth.
“All right,” I said, standing between the two boys. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Roman, but your brother and I have something important to discuss.”
