The man steepled his fingers over his lips as he awaited Dominic’s response. I frowned, staring at his hands. He wore silver-colored nail polish.
Dominic wasn’t looking at the man. His gaze had unwaveringly set and fixed on me. Without my night blood, I couldn’t call upon the mental and physical connections between us to discern his thoughts, but I didn’t need to read his mind to know what he was thinking. He was angry. Arguably more angry than I’d ever seen him, and I’d seen him murderous.
He’d expressly ordered two of his last, most loyal vampires to keep me away. Yet here I was, and they’d escorted me personally.
Dominic had a choice to make: he could either order me to leave or introduce me to the scary, silver-nailed vampire, but we both knew that those options weren’t really choices at all. He couldn’t order me to leave, because as his night blood, I had the right to be here. The vampires would question his anger, and eventually they would question my night blood. We would both be exposed for the frauds we were and punished, tortured, and killed accordingly.
I smiled—because what else was there to do in the face of certain death—and waited on Dominic’s next words.
Dominic cleared his throat, but when he spoke, his voice still scraped like gravel.
“I am honored to present Cassidy DiRocco, the newest night blood to the New York City coven. Cassidy DiRocco, I present you to Lord High Chancellor Henry Lynell Horrace DeWhitt, Master vampire of London and Lord of all vampires.”
“Wow, Lord of all vampires. Not just North America or the Western Hemisphere. To what do we owe this honor?” I asked, and God help me, I tried to sound sincere, I really did.
Dominic froze. If it hadn’t been for the glow of his reflective, nocturnal eyeballs, he would have disappeared like a chameleon into the wall behind him from the suddenness and completeness of his stillness.
Lord High Chancellor Henry’s gaze turned on me so fast, the length of his thick, dark, chestnut-colored ponytail whipped over one shoulder. A shock of white streaked from hairline to tip, no split ends in sight, and I wondered idly, despite the danger and tension of the moment—or perhaps because of it—if his hair was natural or if he used a straightening iron. He stared at me in silence with his very human, strangely normal, unreflective eyes, and then turned back to Dominic. “Is she serious?”
Dominic opened his mouth.
The vampire sitting at the Lord High Chancellor’s right hand interrupted before Dominic could defend me. “I assure you that nothing Cassidy says is serious. Her sarcasm is an armor even I have found impenetrable.” She smiled sadly. “Rene adored her for it.”
I gaped at the second person I recognized in the room.
Bex.
Being a Day Reaper looked good on her. Her eye no longer bled to white toward the pupil nor reflected with that otherworldly glow. Her yellow-green iris was as beautiful as I remembered, but like Lord High Chancellor Henry’s, her gaze was strangely human. She wore a bedazzled, dark purple eye patch, which matched the purple and black dress that clung to her every curve, over her missing eye. And her curves were considerable. Bex normally wore jeans, cowboy boots, and flirty, barely there tops in an attempt to humanize herself and entice Walker. From the looks of her and her company, she had different priorities now that she was a Day Reaper that had nothing to do with acting human.
She eyed me just as thoroughly, taking in my bedraggled appearance, cast, and scooter before her expression darkened at the sight of my wristwatch.
I struggled against the natural reaction to squirm under her predator’s regard.
She met my eyes and smiled coyly. “A pleasure, as always, Cassidy.”
I could think of dozens of responses, each more inappropriate than the last. Thank you for saving my life. Why haven’t you returned to your coven? Why are the Day Reapers here? Do you need help escaping them?
But even I, who’d made a name for myself in the journalism world for asking the hard questions when no one else would, couldn’t voice any of those questions now. Too many ears and eyes and twitching talons were honed in on us, waiting on my response.
Bex and Lord High Chancellor Henry were staring at me, along with the rest of their entourage around the long banquet table, their human eyes gazing from inhumanly perfect faces, deceptively creepy for their masked civility.
Dominic was staring at me, disapproval and fear sharpening his already pointed gaze, and stacked above him in the honeycomb-like rooms that lined the walls were his coven. Hundreds of vampires, several in each room, were gazing down on us, waiting with bated breath for the tone, delivery, and nuance of my response. What I said and how I said it would solidify the current of this meeting and determine whether my presence only rippled the water or drowned them in undertow.
Moments like this were delicate, like a carefully choreographed high-beam routine; one misstep would tip our delicate balance.
I met Bex’s eye and said the only thing I could say to her, the one thing I’d never had the chance to say because at the time I’d been dying and scared and grieving, too. “I’m so sorry about Rene. I wish I could have done more, but I never even saw it coming. If I had just—” I lifted my hands and let them fall back to my sides in a helpless gesture. “I could say ‘if’ about a lot of things, but the one thing that still kills me when I think about my visit to Erin, New York, is Rene’s unnecessary death. I’m so very sorry for your loss.”
Bex blinked; the long lashes of her carefully shadowed and lined eye swept over her cheek like the flutter of a butterfly’s wing. Just as I used anger to hide my pain, Bex used beauty and sexuality to hide hers, and she looked stunning.
“I have many regrets about my time in Erin, New York, as well,” she said. “Your visit and losing Rene being two of many, but I appreciate your condolences.” She turned to the Lord High Chancellor and grinned again—a salacious, sexual grin that made the gloss of her shimmering lipstick sparkle temptingly. “That, my Lord, is about as much sincerity as we’ll get out of our little Cassidy DiRocco.”
“I’m always sincere. You just don’t always like what I have to say,” I said.
Lord High Chancellor Henry stood and was suddenly in front of me in one smooth motion. He was taller than I’d expected. Most of his height was in his legs, and considering I was still sitting and short to begin with, I had to crane my neck at an impossible angle to meet his gaze.
“And what is it you have to say to me?” he asked.
I swallowed the instinctive scream that leapt through my throat at the suddenness of his appearance. “May I call you Henry?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Pardon?”
I held out my hand, hoping I wouldn’t lose it. “Most people call me DiRocco. Lord High Chancellor Henry Horrace DeWhitt—”
“Lord High Chancellor Henry Lynell Horrace DeWhitt,” he corrected.
“Right. I’m sure that’s not what your friends call you.”
“We are not friends.” The Lord High Chancellor looked at my hand, eyeing it as I might a critter that unexpectedly crawled out from beneath the bed.
I wiggled my fingers and forced a smile. “Does that mean we can’t be friendly?”
The Lord High Chancellor glanced back at Bex. “Surely, she’s joking.”
Bex waffled her hand in my direction. “Her humor and wit can be an acquired taste; if you allow her to live long enough, you may learn to like it. Or not. Even the most exquisite wine can’t agree with everyone’s palate.”
“You like the taste of her,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.
Bex licked her lips. “I do.”
“Lysander?” the Chancellor asked.
Dominic let the silence stretch into a cavern between us. He locked eyes with me, but I couldn’t decipher the fathomless depths of his expression. At one time, I could lock eyes with him and pluck the threads of his mind with my will, but even then, I’d only been able to glimpse a blush of his thought. He’d always kept his deepest, most cutting emotions buried
where no one, not even himself, could feel them.
I held my breath as the silence lengthened, wondering what words Dominic could possibly utter to bridge its breadth.
Finally, mercifully, Dominic broke the silence. “The future of this coven is tenuous, as the future of any coven is tenuous during any Leveling, but unlike my past Levelings, a contender has risen against me to usurp my rule. Her intentions align with those of a great many vampires, more than just the intentions of a minority here in my coven, but she is the first to have the means, support, and power to make those intentions a reality. If she comes into power, more of those in power will follow suit, and you will have a much larger problem to wrestle with than the acquired taste of my night blood.”
My jaw dropped.
The Lord High Chancellor disappeared from my side and reappeared with his clawed hand around Dominic’s throat. The skin around Dominic’s esophagus, under his chin, and behind his neck—anywhere the Chancellor touched—bubbled and steamed. The noxious smell of burnt flesh filled the room as the Chancellor’s claw embedded itself inside Dominic’s neck. Dominic was making strange, wet, struggling noises I’d never heard him make before, and although Dominic didn’t necessarily need to breathe to live, losing the use of his throat was still debilitating.
The Lord High Chancellor waited until his claw was solidly embedded in the meat of Dominic’s melted flesh, and then he ripped it out.
Dominic bowed over the table, a gaping hole where his throat used to be. Had Dominic suffered such an injury last week, he would have promptly healed and counterattacked like I’d witnessed him miraculously heal countless times. But Dominic no longer had the strength to defend himself. He remained firmly seated. He didn’t counterattack. He didn’t even move except to make horrible, gagging and coughing noises.
And he didn’t heal.
Ropes of dark, viscous blood poured from the wound, across the table, and onto the floor in a widening pool at our feet.
The Chancellor’s hands transformed from claws back to fingers, but the silver on his fingernails had taken on new meaning. His nails weren’t polished silver. They were actually silver.
I should have kept my distance—what defense could I provide against the Lord of all vampires—but being a bystander had never been my strong suit. As usual, I did what I shouldn’t do and scooted to Dominic’s side. I placed my hand on Dominic’s shoulder and gently squeezed the base of his neck, but if he noticed my presence behind him, he didn’t acknowledge it.
Without the table obstructing my view, I could see that it wasn’t choice that had kept Dominic immobile in his chair. His wrists and ankles were locked to the chair by silver cuffs, and all that remained of his arms, from the elbows down, was bone.
His skin had been boiled clean from muscle, and his muscles had been roasted clean from the bone. I shifted my eyes to the floor, not wanting to know but helpless not to look, and sure enough, twin puddles of blood and chunks of nearly liquefied, unidentifiable parts had piled beneath each chair arm—the remnants of flesh and muscle that had been burned from the bone.
I swallowed bile and tried not to breathe too deeply. I could only imagine the state of his ankles.
The Chancellor bent over Dominic and spoke directly in his ear. “If I were you, I wouldn’t concern myself with the destructive properties of anyone’s power but my own. Check your tongue before you speak, or next time, you’ll lose more than just your throat.”
The Chancellor straightened, adjusted his now blood-spattered dress shirt, and held out his hand.
“It’s a pleasure making your acquaintance, Cassidy DiRocco,” he said, as if he hadn’t just mangled Dominic’s throat between one sentence and the next.
“Lord High Chancellor Henry Lynell Horrace DeWhitt,” I said with a nod of acquiescence. I didn’t take his hand. We would not be friends. “I wish I could say the same.”
The Chancellor wiggled his fingers at me, as I’d done to him only moments before.
I pointed at Dominic’s wrists. “This is not friendly,” I said. I glanced at Dominic. “Looks to me like our guests have worn out their welcome.”
“They only just arrived,” Rafe murmured.
I started, having forgotten that we weren’t alone in the room.
“And what do you think, Rafe Devereaux?” the Chancellor asked, wielding Rafe’s name like an incantation. “Have we worn out our welcome?”
Rafe bowed low and deep in supplication. “I have no thoughts on the wear or freshness of your welcome. I only know that you have just arrived. Literally—” Rafe glanced at his wrist, “—twenty minutes ago.” Despite his formal, unflappable tone, Rafe wasn’t wearing a watch.
The Chancellor narrowed his eyes first at Rafe, then inexplicably at me—as if I could in some way be blamed for Rafe’s behavior—and then his eyes settled with disturbing finality on Dominic.
I squeezed Dominic’s shoulder in warning. His throat was still bleeding out, although, remarkably less than a minute before. I could lend him my support and loyalty, but without night blood or physical strength, I had nothing else to offer.
I clenched my teeth against my own uselessness.
The Chancellor tapped a silver-coated fingernail against his lips. “Why is it, Dominic Lysander, that you always seem to surround yourself with vampires whose throats I’d like nothing more than to tear out?”
Dominic’s mouth moved, but as he tried to speak, blood spurted from his torn throat.
The Chancellor lifted his palm for silence. “Please, you’re spraying everywhere.”
“If I may, my Lord?” Bex asked, raising a delicate finger in the air. “Lysander and I are allies once more, and I’d like to speak on his behalf.”
The Chancellor turned to her and nodded once.
“I, too, was one of those vampires whose throat you would have loved to tear out. I hid in my cave for decades, rejecting my birthright, rejecting all Day Reapers.”
“Are you defending Dominic or condemning yourself?” the Chancellor asked, raising an arched brow.
Bex blinked that one, perfectly lined, long-lashed, beautifully shadowed eye at the Chancellor. “I’m merely pointing out that I, too, was one of the strong-willed and stubborn, and here I am now, your strongest asset. Your deadliest weapon.”
The Chancellor stroked his chin. “Continue.”
She smiled coyly. “The best of our kind are not meek. We do not follow or surrender. And we do not fail. You may want to tear their throats out, but Dominic has undeniably allied himself with strong, brave, obstinate vampires. Not necessarily loyal,” she added, “but the best of our kind, nonetheless.”
“Your point is valid,” the Chancellor said.
Bex nodded.
Rafe nudged Sevris in the ribs. “Hear that? I’m the best of our kind.”
Sevris rolled his eyes heavenward.
The Chancellor honed his eyes on Rafe like two lasers. Best of their kind or not, Rafe was about to lose his throat.
Before the Chancellor could act on his impulses, I took his still-outstretched hand and shook it. “Friendly or not, you are our guest, and as the Lord Chancellor of all vampires—”
“Lord High Chancellor,” he corrected.
I had to physically force my eyes not to roll. “—it’s an honor to meet you,” I lied, thinking, Please, no more bloodshed.
His strike was lightning fast and just as debilitating. I’d prevented him from shedding Rafe’s blood, but instead, he’d chosen to shed mine.
His fangs pierced my wrist and drove deep through muscle and bone, so deep they punctured through to the other side. My mind remained clear—there was no orgasm like Dominic’s bite could induce; no peaceful, pulsing cloud like Rene’s bite had prompted; no grisly savageness like with Kaden and Ronnie—just an impersonal, nearly mechanical, stab, the quickest, easiest means to get to my blood. He sucked a long pull of it into his mouth. I tried to yank my hand free from his grip, but his jaw locked around my wrist, tighter than I cou
ld imagine a jaw could tighten without further breaking the skin.
He swallowed another mouthful, and I swayed on my seat. Dominic jerked at the cuffs that held him immobile, but his arms remained bound fast. He couldn’t help me any more than I could help him. I laughed to myself. Despite the enormity of his usual power, he was useless, too.
Oddly enough, it was my sense of humor that saved me. The Chancellor pulled back from my wrist, gave my wound an impersonal lick—healing me was obviously an afterthought—and cocked his head. “Something funny?”
I shook my head. “Not really. Just ironic.”
“Care to share?”
“Not particularly, but I will if it means you’ll stop sucking my blood.”
The Chancellor smiled. The cracks between each tooth were stained with my blood. “Do I frighten you?”
“Yes, but more importantly, I prefer to keep my blood in my body, where it belongs.”
“Hmm,” the Chancellor said noncommittally. “You were right, Bex.”
“Of course I’m right,” she said, examining the perfect points of her polished claws. They were dark red, nearly black, and more claw than nail even in nail form.
“Right about what?” I asked, knowing I probably didn’t want to know the answer, but asking anyway.
“You’re not a night blood.”
My heart dropped, and I glanced at Bex. God only knew how she’d known. Maybe she’d suspected all along after saving me, knowing how thoroughly I’d been drained of blood. Maybe with her enhanced senses—more enhanced than those of Rafe and Sevris and the others—she could smell my humanity, just like Dominic could smell the truth of my existence.
How she’d known really didn’t matter so much as the fact that she’d told the Lord High Chancellor and blown any hope we’d had of surviving this visit.
“So much for being allies,” I muttered.
She waved away my words. “Much has changed since we first met. I’ve changed.” She grinned. “You’re about to.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, confused and not wanting to show weakness, but like all predators, the vampires could sense my fear, no matter my bravado. They could taste the salt of sweat on my skin and feel the accelerated beat of my heart in that disjointed, over-sensitized way that they sensed everything. I was terrified, for myself and Dominic, and that was as much an admission of guilt as anything.
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