Page 8 of Crimson Mate
More important than agonizing over every detail and memory that assaulted my mind while I begged for sleep.
Memories like the way Zachariah’s laugh could lighten even the most gloomy of situations. The way it felt when his mating mark appeared on my skin—the profound sense of completion and exhilaration that chased away all previous fears when my father declared the match.
Things were so different all those years ago. Getting his mating mark didn't mean we immediately got to be together in every sense of the mating bond. We were to be wed, a traditional, boisterous ceremony to celebrate fate pairing the two of us together. I’d never known excitement like that, nor had I ever felt such heartbreak when he called it off.
I swallow the tangle of emotions clogging my throat as I slide back into my fighting leathers and armored corset, shoving my arms through my jacket with much more force than necessary.
God help any bloodmad vampire that got in my way tonight. I had a wealth of pent-up energy brewing beneath my skin, my fingers itching for the hilt of my daggers and my blood thirsty for release.
Maybe tonight I'd actually catch my target.
When I’d caught onto the scent of my old acquaintance Conrad months ago, I’d never imagined he would be behind the across-the-globe bloodmad creation. He’d been abrasive centuries ago, especially when I’d denied his courting intentions, stating we were better as friends, but he’d never been violent. Though, we’d lost touch centuries ago, and that amount of time can do strange things to a person.
I grab my satchel, ensuring it holds all the weapons I placed in there the night before. I’ve been up most of the day, unable to ignore the fact that Zachariah’s room is connected to mine, only a wall separating us.
A wall and a few centuries, that is.
It’s highly unlikely anyone would’ve snuck into my room and confiscated my things, but I couldn't be too careful. Especially when the king had a slew of magical beings at his disposal, including a witch-hybrid among them.
All of my weapons intact, I latch the bag and throw it over my shoulder, taking a step outside of my rooms at the first hint of night.
“You're awake,” a kind, feminine voice says the moment I open the door.
“Your Highness,” I say, immediately recognizing the queen. The small ruby and diamond crown atop her head is a clear indicator, not to mention the regal way she stands outside my room. I bow low at the waist before standing back up.
“Lyric,” she says, waving a delicate hand at me. “Though I appreciate your formality, I prefer to be called by my first name.”
I give her a soft smile, admiring her ability to play both roles so well. “I heard our king mated with a modern-day woman,” I say, shifting the bag on my shoulder. “I'm thrilled to hear the transition went smoothly.”
Lyrics smiles. “I don't know about smoothly,” she says. “But it was definitely meant to be. And despite being queen for some time, I'm still getting used to the formalities. So, Lyric.”
“Talia,” I say even though I'm sure Alek filled her in yesterday on who I am and why I’m here.
Lyric eyes the bag on my shoulder. “Going somewhere?”
I nod. “Before Zachariah wended me here without asking, I was on a hunt. I’m still at the king's disposal, should he need me or any information I have, and I will respect his wishes that I stay in this residence, but I do need to continue my hunt.
“Are you coming?” another voice I recognize as the witch-hybrid sounds before the gorgeous woman rounds the corner, eyes falling on Lyric and then me. “I'm starving.”
Lyrics smiles at the witch, then motions to me. “I was just about to ask Talia if she could delay her hunt for an hour to eat with us.”
“Ohplease,” the witch says, eagerness flitting over her features. “I'm dying to get the scoop from you.”
I pause, a little thrown by how casual these two are—the vampire queen and the vampire-witch hybrid. As much as my instincts are begging me to go on a hunt, there's no way I can deny my queen a meal request.
“Of course,” I say, and both Lyric and the witch grin at me. They loop their arms through mine and lead me through the residence, down elegantly decorated hallways until we reach a small, very informal dining area.
A table sits among the center of a cozy room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking lush gardens outside, white flowers still clinging to life despite autumn’s chill.
The smell of cinnamon and berries and brown sugar fill the space, making my mouth water as I eye the spread that sits on the table. There are muffins and pastries and fruits and meats and eggs—all the wonderful, delicious treats human food has to offer.
“I'm Jocelyn, by the way,” the witch-hybrid says to me after I've taken my seat across from Lyric, flopping down in a chair to my left at the same time she reaches for a giant muffin and pops a bite into her mouth. She moans around the bite. “These are absolutely divine,” she says.
“Talia,” I say in response, only reaching for an empty plate after my queen has filled hers. Lyric may say she isn't accustomed to formalities, but they’ve been ingrained in me over centuries.
“The huntress,” Jocelyn says, her eyes widening. “I have to say I'm absolutely fascinated by the history of the huntresses,” she continues. “Just like the hunters, there isn't a ton of written information about you out there.”
I nod while taking a bite of muffin, sighing. She's right, these are divine. “Well, our superiors have definitely worked hard to keep it that way,” I say after swallowing my bite. “Our organization would kind of lose its edge if there were books exploiting all of our practices and purposes.”