Page 58 of Filthy Rich Vampires: For Eternity

“Us?”

“Le Vergine.” She flushed a little, her eyes finding the floor.

It was so out of character for what I’d come to expect from her, that it took me a second to process what she’d said. It hit me like a blow to the stomach.

A handmaiden served for life. Some came willingly. Others were called for or sent by their families. They all arrived to court at a young age. In the past, babies had even been sent at birth. Most of the women who served in the royal guard had known little-to-no life outside the court. They all pledged their total loyalty to the Le Regine—along with a vow of chastity.

“I didn’t realize, Aurelia,” I said carefully. Clearly, she took that vow of chastity seriously.

“That’s why you’re still alive—and it’s Lia,” she said with a small smile. It fell from her lips quickly.

“Lia.” I savored the small concession. “If I had known—”

“If you had known, you would have treated me like every other vampire that’s come to this court for the last decade.” She tossed her braid over her shoulder, lifting her chin. The flush was gone, and if she was embarrassed by this revelation, she was doing a damn good job of hiding it. “I would either be a conquest or an object of pity. And I am fucking sick of it, so don’t go all gooey on me now.”

I blinked in surprise but finally managed to nod my head. “So enemies, then?”

“I prefer it to your pity.”

I held out my hand. “War?”

Her lips twitched as she took it. “War,” she agreed.

It would be better this way. If I was going to stick around and keep an eye on Julian, I didn’t need any distractions.

Especially not in the form of a gorgeous, deadly bodyguard trained to view my dick as a breach of contract.

Hating each other would be easier. But as she drew her hand from mine, our fingers lingered before breaking apart.

“Good evening,” I said around the lump in my throat.

Good evening? Was I her enemy or what?

Lia snorted, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement as she leaned down. Her face was a fraction of an inch from mine, close enough that I smelled the liquor on her breath—close enough that I considered how her lips might taste. “We’re enemies, Lysander.” Her breathless voice caught the attention of my dick. “Don’t get soft on me.”

That was not going to be a problem. I let my mouth curve into the smile that had dropped plenty of panties over the centuries. “Fine. Go to hell.”

“I’ll see you there,” she murmured. An instant later, she was sashaying out of the room, cloak over her shoulder.

I stared after her, rock hard, wondering what the hell I’d just done.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THEA

I’d dreamed about this moment. At night. While awake. Sometimes it was a nightmare that woke me. Other times, it felt more like a wish. But nothing could have prepared me for what I felt when I saw my mother.

Nothing.

Dressed in all black, she nearly blended in with the night. Any sign of illness was gone. No gaunt cheeks or sallow skin. She showed no sign of weakness. The piazzo was quiet, too far from the popular tourist areas for anyone to bother on a night this cold. For a moment, I thought I might be dreaming, but then snowflakes began to fall.

I was numb. In shock. The world around me went gray, dull as if all the color had been sucked away. Not by the night but the surprise. My tongue couldn’t form words. My mouth couldn’t form words. My mind couldn’t form words. I couldn’t think.

But Julian could.

Instantly, he was between us, his back to me as he faced her. Snow fell on his rigid shoulders and melted. His body remained tight, alert, and I felt the rush of adrenaline that swept through him—swept through us. He saw her as a threat. I reached for his arm, but he didn’t budge.

“Thea.” My mother’s voice rang across the pavilion. There was no one else around. No one else to catch the lilting music in her words. No one else to see what, even in the bleached world surrounding us, was so painfully clear. Because the only color here was her. Red hair the color of flames, glowing moonstone skin, and beauty that radiated in the dark. She was stunning and vital and more alive than I’d ever seen her. Her glamour entirely gone, and with it, any lingering doubt I’d clung to since she’d vanished.

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