Chapter 8

The dress clings to me like sin.

Red silk, slit too high, neckline too low—like something designed to provoke a reaction. I’m not used to dressing like this. Maybe my sister Arya, but me? No. Especially in this goddess forsaken weather.

I smooth it down with cold fingers, then curse Aemon under my breath for leaving me with no other option. It was this or freeze in socks and a shirt that smelled too much like him.

Also, no underwear.

The halls echo with silence as he leads me toward the gathering. He hasn’t said much since I emerged in this dress—and no underwear. I open my mouth to say something about it, but then with just one lingering and unreadable long look that makes me feel less cold, he says in a low voice, “You’ll do.”

I shut my mouth. I guess asking for underwear is off the table.

The grand doors open into a room with gothic arched ceilings, lit by floating chandeliers made of bone and iron. Velvet drapes shudder in the breeze of cold stone air. Candles drip wax onto obsidian floors.

And then, there’s them. The vampires. They’re all here, so many like I’ve never seen before.

Some dressed in rich silks, others in sleek black suits. Cold, elegant faces turn. Sharp eyes gleam like polished garnets. I feel their staring before I see them—how their attention sharpens, like the scent of blood in water.

Some look at me like a meal.

And some—well, some murmur between themselves as they stare in a way that I almost forget how to walk.

My brain picks the worst time to remind me I’m not wearing any panties.

I can feel my cheeks blushing.

Oh, Goddess….

My spine straightens.

I’m not trained like the other humans here. As I glance around, I notice most of them wear designer collars and blank expressions. Pliable. They’re all in formal wear, perfectly obedient, heads bowed like they’re grateful to be here.

And me? Not at all.

I feel like a flame in the snow.

Unkempt. Untrained. Undeniably not theirs.

Aemon’s tall frame walks beside me, silent. He keeps a hand at the small of my back. Not touching per se, it’s just there. A presence. Or a warning. Because every time a vampire’s gaze lingers too long, they flinch away from him.

A vampire with silver eyes and short black hair steps too close. He smiles, teeth gleaming.

“New pet, Aemon?”

I tilt my head. “Pet? Oh no, I’m his bad influence.” I lean a little bit toward Aemon and murmur because I know they can hear. “Remind me, Aemon—what was the last rule I made you break?”

Laughter ripples nearby. But the silver-eyed one stiffens and slinks off.

Aemon doesn’t say anything, but I catch the hint of a smile at the edge of his mouth as his fingers press ever so slightly into my back. Maybe pride or a warning, or both in one.

But then he’s called away, another vampire, but it’s a female this time, draped in emerald silk with lips red enough to shame my dress. She touches his arm, and lingers there.

That emotion again.

Hot and sharp in my chest as her hand stays too long.

I don’t like the taste of it.

I cross my arms and lean against a pillar, watching them. I try to catalog as much as I can about this gathering. I’m alone, I don’t have a pack anymore. I need to be smart to survive here since I can’t tear them with my claws because I’m not a she-wolf.

Nearby, a human guy offers his neck with a dazed smile. A vampire bites with slow, deliberate flair like it’s a performance. Another drinks from a wrist, licking the blood like wine.

It’s all a show. Hierarchy dressed up in silk and blood. The guy groans... in pain?

Frowning, I realize I’m not sure.

Then everything shifts.

The room falls silent, as if someone snapped their fingers.

And from the grand stairway above, he appears.

Griffin.

He doesn’t walk. Griffin prowls. He is wearing a black suit and cold red eyes.

He stops halfway down the staircase and lets his gaze scan the room. Until it lands on me.

Like a blowtorch.

Heat floods my cheeks, and my knees threaten betrayal. I hate that he can do that just by looking.

Maybe it’s that famous vampire-alluring staring thing.

I glance sideways. Aemon is suddenly close again. His cold hand brushes before closing around mine. Protective. Or possessive.

I don’t know which burns more.

Griffin descends, takes his place on a throne moved to the center of the room. The moment he sits, the whispers begin again.

He raises a hand. Everyone falls silent.

“Tonight,” he says, his deep steel voice echoing through the room, “we welcome a new addition to House Draven.”

I stiffen.

“My brother has claimed her.”

Gasps. Murmurs. One vampire actually hisses.

Then Griffin adds, almost with a smug face, “And I have, as well.”

My jaw clenches.

“Her blood is... exquisite,” he says, voice curling around the world with a tiny smirk. “And too rare to waste on one mouth.”

Minutes later after everyone speaks again, a silver tray appears in front of me, offered by the brunette girl who came here with me. The chalices tremble slightly in her grip, filled with something thick and red and glistening like rubies. “It’s not human,” with downcast eyes, she whispers like that’s supposed to make it better.

Before I can say anything, I hear another female voice cut in, but the tone of the vampire is sweet as rot. “A show of respect, perhaps. Just a sip. Blood bags should have manners, you know.”

My fingers twitch.

I turn toward her.

She’s beautiful, of course. They all are. But this one is the kind of beauty that’s been sharpened into a weapon. Her gown glitters with intent, and her smile curves like the edge of a dagger. She looks at me like I’m exactly what she said. A blood bag.

My lips part to deliver something sharp—but then I hear it. Griffin’s deep voice. “Just a touch, little flower.”

The nickname slithers around my ribs. I hate that I feel it. That my stomach flips like it has no spine of its own.

I step closer to the tray, eyes on him. Slowly, deliberately, I raise my hand… then wave it just above the chalice without touching it.

“There,” I say, sweet as poison. “Touched it with my aura. That’s what you wanted, right?”

A few gasps scatter in the silence.

The female vampire lets out a high laugh, like I’ve just told a joke at my own expense. But Griffin doesn’t laugh.

He smiles.

A slow, amused tilt of his mouth that says he knew exactly what I’d do. That he’s been waiting for me to be difficult. That he likes it.

His gaze skims lazily over my skin. My silky red dress.

That gets him.

His smile deepens into something darker.

Something promising.

A slow, cruel thing that sends shivers down my spine.

Aemon is suddenly at my side again. “Walk with me,” he orders.

I go. The hallway is darker here, quieter. Still buzzing with the phantom heat of that room.

He pins me with a look. “You just challenged him in front of the entire court.”

I lift my chin. “Well, I’m not drinking someone’s blood. And this crest marking my skin isn’t a leash.”

His jaw flexes.

Then he steps closer, making me step back until I feel the stone wall at my back. One of Aemon’s hands rests near my head, and the other one is near my hip, not touching, but I feel the air shift. Feel the weight of what he’s not doing. The way the weight of his closeness.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, love,” he says, but it sounds more like a prayer than a warning as he stares at my lips, then his face shifts to my arched neck.

“Then tell me.” I tilt my chin up, arching even more my neck.

His breath hitches. His hand finally finds my waist. “Fuck. Just knowing that you aren’t wearing a damn thing under this sinful dress! I have to taste you,” he murmurs, his gaze making my skin feel heat in the cold hallway. “But later. In private. When there’s no one but us, love.”

His hand moves from the wall, and then I feel his fingers trailing the column of my neck.

“I’m starving for it, Blake. For you.”

I inhale sharply, my hands pressed to the cold stone behind me. “Why wait then?” What the hell am I proposing? I must have lost my mind.

Aemon leans in, his luring lips a whisper from mine. “Because if I kiss you now, I won’t stop.”

The tension coils tight. I slowly try to close the small distance between us as my eyes flutter shut.

Then—

“Aemon!”

We both snap to attention.

A tall and broad vampire stands at the end of the corridor, breathless. “There’s been a breakout. The purple haired she-wolf is missing.”

Aemon swears under his breath.

Then, another voice rings out from the main hall, but this one sounds terrifyingly calm. “Bring her to me.”

I don’t have to ask who.

Moments later, I stand before Griffin again. His red gaze rakes over me. “It’s time you proved your loyalty, little flower.”