Page 54 of Blood Match
Istride into the ancient vampire Council headquarters, my senses pinging. The imposing gothic facade seems colored with a thousand secrets. If these walls could speak…
I slow my pace as I arrive in the meeting room, aware of Arabella’s absence. Damn. I could use an ally right about now.
The others arrive in quick succession. Victor Valmont, Isabella Montague, Alaric Stone… Lucien, that smug bastard, is already seated at the head of the boardroom table. The power play isn’t lost on me. I clench my jaw, refusing to react.
What the fuck is he up to?
As I move to take my seat, I notice the subtle reactions of the other vampires. Their eyes widen slightly, nostrils flaring as if catching an unfamiliar scent. I catch snippets of whispered conversations.
“…his aura…”
“…something’s different…”
I ignore them, sliding into a chair and fixing Lucien with a steady gaze. “Will Arabella be joining us?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral.
Lucien’s lips curl into a cold smile. “This is a matter that doesn’t concern our Grand Elder. Today is an unofficial advisory committee meeting.”
I raise my eyebrows, alarm bells ringing in my head. This isn’t right. Are they operating outside the Blood Assembly’s rules? I hold my tongue. Better to see how this plays out.
Marcus takes the seat beside me, another breach of protocol. I feel a surge of gratitude for my friend’s silent show of support. It’s clear to everyone that this isn’t an officially sanctioned meeting. Having him take a place at the table shows them we’re aware of it too.
The air crackles with unspoken suspense as I wait for Lucien to reveal why he’s gathered us here. I grit my teeth as he opens the meeting, his audacity grating on my nerves.
Who does he think he is?
He’s not even the highest-ranking vampire here. I exchange a quick glance with Marcus, seeing my own irritation mirrored in his eyes.
For a minute or two, Lucien drones on about recent vampire-witch conflicts, his words colored with false concern – as if he himself wasn’t behind the whole shitstorm.
“The witches have requested a meeting,” he announces, surprising me, “and our Grand Elder has agreed.”
A murmur ripples through the room. I keep my face impassive, but my mind races.
Why didn’t Arabella tell me about this?
“We must be on our guard,” Lucien continues, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on me. “Some among us may not be…up to the task.”
I feel the weight of the others’ stares. Lucien’s lips curl into a smirk. “How are you feeling today, Lord Drake? You’ve seemed…unwell at our recent meetings.”
“I’m stronger than ever, Lord Marlowe,” I counter smoothly. I’m not lying. I feel like I could rule the world.
“Is that so? Because—”
I don’t hear the rest of the sentence as I feel a tug at my awareness. A warm female voice.
“Fine, I guess. Just confused.”
I stiffen.
For fuck’s sake! It’s her, dammit!
And with the sound of her voice comes the memory of her scent, her taste. My mouth waters, and my fangs extend. I blink hard, fighting for control.
Too late. Lucien’s eyes gleam with triumph. “You see?” he says, addressing the room. “Even now, his strength slips. Many of you have noticed, have you not?”
“You must admit, you have not been yourself lately, Lord Drake.” Isabella is regarding me with a calculating expression. I return her cool stare.
“I believe that Clan Sanguis has much to be concerned about,” adds Lucien.