Page 12 of Vampire Runner

Ambrose, sitting at the head of the table with his chin resting on his steepled fingers, catches my eye. Silently commanding me to lock down the fury that must show on my face. It’s more than fury. It’s rage. It’s pain. It’s devastation. It’s grief. It’s terror. A gods-damned hurricane inside me, threatening to rip me a part at my very seems.

I curl my fingers into fists, my knuckles going white as my nails dig into my skin. My jaw locks and I glare down at the dark oak table and struggle to control my breathing.

Cassandra hadn’t stayed quiet during the drive back from Black Death Beanery. Instead, she told me everything she’d discussed with Darcelle. I almost wish she hadn’t, but I’m glad she didn’t try to hide it.

As soon as we’d arrived, I’d told Ambrose that we needed to speak—all of us. While he called in the inner circle, Cassandra gave him the explanation. He’d said nothing, his face cryptically still.

I’ve admired his talent to maintain composure in the worst of situations but watching him take in the fact that Cassandra will die in a matter of days without blinking has me wanting to lash out. If it were Eloise in danger, he wouldn’t be this calm.

Eloise sits to his left, and Kasar across from her. Cassandra sits beside him next to me, and Deidre and Malachi across from us. Lan and his mother, Josephine, take two of the remaining seats at the side of the table, leaving the end vacant. Wren didn’t join her savage mate, tending to their daughter, Emily, at their home.

When I’m certain the hurricane is suppressed, I scan the faces of my fellow Nightshades. Every male here has known Cassandra since we met in Willow Creek. She saved every single male here with her actions that night, even if she betrayed me.

That icy fact hardens my resolve and I plant a hand on the table, pressing down and meeting every golden gaze at the table before speaking.

“If it weren’t for Cassandra, none of you would be here today,” I intone, the silence growing more profound as their attention is riveted to me. “We owe her this help.” I meet Ambrose’s hard golden gaze, knowing my own golden eyes holds just as much of a challenge. “You owe her.”

Eloise and Deidre frown, with Kasar giving his mate a slight shake of his head. Her frown turns to a scowl. Deidre has never liked secrets, which is why she excels as an investigative journalist. Eloise opens her mouth to say something, but Ambrose cuts her off.

“I agree.”

I jerk my head back as if slapped, so shocked I am at his frank words.

Josephine reaches out, laying her hand over mine and squeezing gently, drawing my gaze. Hers are golden orbs shimmering with the threat of tears while filled with understanding and compassion. I turn my hand under hers, grasping her in a quiet display of need. Josephine may only be Landon’s blood mother and she may be the one vampire we dare not cross even more than Ambrose, but it is because she holds us all in her heart.

Her husband’s love was matched with abuse, but despite that, she has made sure to shower those in her family real love. Unconditionally and without doubt.

Ambrose and Eloise may be the king and queen of the vampires, but Josephine? Josephine is the mother of us Nightshades. There is nothing we will not do for her. And not a single time has she abused that power. Not even when we could have punished her husband, brutally and violently, for laying his hands on her.

“Of course we will help Cassandra,” Josephine says, a gentle chiding in her tone. She reaches out with her other hand, beckoning my wife to take it. When Cassandra does, she smiles at us both. “Cassandra, you are one of us. You have been from the moment you became Ashe’s mate. Eris may have her conflicts with us, but she too has become one of us. To lose either of you would be too great a loss.”

My throat thickens at her words and I have to swallow back the emotions she’s conjured. Her soothing compassion and love for us dampens the acidic rage inside me, making it easier for me to think.

As if she knows what she’s done, she draws away after one last squeeze. She stands, sweeping her hands down her black skirt to smooth out any creases. She directs her next words to Ambrose.

“I will have tea, coffee, and food brought,” she announces. “No doubt this will be a long night if you are to plan how to save our witch.”

Ambrose inclines his head, an indulgent look in his eyes. He may appear in his late thirties and Josephine in her sixth or seventh decade, but he’s always considered her his daughter.

The moment she’s swept from the dining room deeper in the house, Lan rises as well. Before anyone can speak, Lan’s calling out to Deidre. “Grab your laptop and I’ll get mine. We need more information on this archangel. He was at the Memento Mori gallery opening, so he has a social presence in Topside. By the time we’re done, we’ll know what underwear he prefers.”

Deidre scoffs, but rises. “I’ll leave you to his underwear preferences.” She follows the blond vampire, the two of them already bouncing ideas on how to track the man’s movements and locations down.

Malachi coughs, a bad attempt at covering up a laugh. He shoots Kasar an amused look. “If he wasn’t mated, I’d warn you that Lan might steal your girl.”

Rather than react as explosively as he may have in the past, Kasar leans the dining chair onto its back legs, crossing his arms over his chest with a devilish smirk. The man’s jacket is a credit to his tailor with how the fabric strains against his muscles but doesn’t burst at the seams. “Even if he was, the way she rode my cock this morning?—”

“Gah!” Eloise interrupts him, her face turning beet red. Kasar’s smirk grows. “Shush. I don’t need to hear about my best friend’s sex life from you.”

The table snickers and not even I can suppress a slight smile. Eloise is no prude; no woman could be when mated to Ambrose d’Vil. It makes it all the more amusing to scandalize her. Malachi, especially, enjoys teasing her — so long as Ambrose isn’t around. Unfortunately for Malachi, Eloise makes him her primary target when trying to antagonize her mate. More than once, I’ve seen him hightailing it from the clan house to avoid the ire of a mated male. Malachi might lean towards good-natured teasing, but when it comes to getting a rise out of the king of vampires, he’s not stupid.

Personally, I’m convinced Eloise thinks it’s hilarious to see the general of the Nightshades’ force speed walk away. Speed walk, since of course no vampire male as old as Malachi would admit to running.

“Besides, we need to start planning how to save Cassandra and Eris,” Eloise continues, pushing past her embarrassment. She looks at Ambrose. “We won’t be able to actually plan something until Lan and Deidre get back, but there’s got to be something we can do in the meantime.”

Ambrose inclines his head towards her. “Indeed.” He studies us all, the calculations he’s running clear in his eyes. After a long moment, his attention snaps to Kasar as he stands. “We’ll need to get Aeternaphiel in a known location, which, if he is maintaining some sort of position in Topside’s social circles, shouldn’t be too difficult. Call in Rhys. We’ll need him.”

Malachi and I share stunned looks, and Ambrose doesn’t miss them. “He will come.” His tone is hard as steel.

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