Page 18 of A Game of Love and Betrayal

Valentina should know better than to pick a fight with a vampire already inflamed by the scent of blood.

Brynleigh released Hallie. The Fortune Elf stumbled back as a growl rumbled through the vampire. Somewhere outside of herself, Brynleigh was aware of the other women stepping back.

The guards were nowhere to be seen.

The Chancellor’s daughter didn’t move. She smirked as if she knew a secret no one else did. “You really have no idea who I am, do you?”

Valentina’s eyes glimmered with violence, and Brynleigh knew she should drop this, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from saying, “Other than a bitch?” Brynleigh snarled and drew shadows around her. “No.”

Valentina opened her palm. A flame flickered above her hand.

Instinctively, Brynleigh stumbled back.

Of course, Valentina was a fucking fire fae. Why not? That was the worst possible scenario. Just once, Brynleigh would like for things to go her way. Being in the Choosing with someone who could kill her with a flick of her wrist was a sick, twisted joke.

Vampires were essentially immortal, but three things could cause them significant harm and even death: silver, wooden stakes, and flames. Long ago, before electricity, vampires lit their homes with Light Elf magic to avoid fire entirely.

Despite her desire to remain strong, Brynleigh trembled at the sight of the small yellow flame. She hated that her stomach curled in on itself at the sight, and she despised the icy fear running through her veins.

She was a vampire, a true immortal that would never Fade, but this instilled fear deep within her.

And Valentina? Her horrible, red mouth twisted as an awful, mocking laugh left her lips. The sound was like nails running down a chalkboard.

Right then and there, the fire fae secured a spot at the top of Brynleigh’s “to-kill” list.

“Not so brave now, are you?” Valentina sneered and took a step towards Brynleigh.

The deadly flame was now a foot tall.

Brynleigh staggered back and slammed into a wall. She didn’t look away from the fire. Her fingers flexed, and she released even more shadows.

She prepared to fight.

If it came down to it, Brynleigh would do whatever it took to survive, including killing the Chancellor’s daughter. She was aware that wouldn’t go over well—honestly, she’d be lucky if she spent the rest of her immortal life in a prohiberis-lined prison—but she was being threatened. Rational thought had no place here.

“Ladies!” Matron Lilith screeched, appearing in the corner of Brynleigh’s vision. “Enough!”

A long moment passed before Valentina smirked. She extinguished the flame and rolled her shoulders. “Don’t worry, Matron,” she said in a sickly-sweet voice. “I was just showing my new friend what I can do.”

Boiling lava replaced the ice running through Brynleigh’s veins. “We’re not friends,” she snarled. “I’ll never be your friend.”

The fire fae simply shrugged and sauntered into the lounge as if she hadn’t been threatening to kill Brynleigh moments before.

Matron Lilith looked at Brynleigh and shook her head. She frowned. “You shouldn’t let her get beneath your skin, dear. It will only make things worse.”

Brynleigh knew she should answer—she’d been raised to understand the importance of manners, especially when dealing with one’s elders—but her control was rapidly deteriorating. She dipped her head, following Valentina into the Crimson Lounge.

The other women were discussing the shooting, but Brynleigh ignored them and headed straight for the bar.

The Death Elf who was wiping down the counter looked up as Brynleigh approached. “Miss?”

“Blood, please,” Brynleigh rasped, gripping the ruby countertop.

Thank Isvana, the elf took one look at her face and gulped. He ducked beneath the bar, pulling out two red bags. “Warm or cold?”

At that moment, Brynleigh didn’t have any time to wait for the blood to heat up. “Cold,” she replied. “Please hurry.”

The bartender nodded and ran a knife along the top of the bags. He poured the crimson liquid into a goblet and slid it over. “Here you go, miss.”

---