Page 27 of Stalked By Seduction and Shadows

“If we can prove to the kingdom that Durian is breaking the treaty and using his clubs to do so, can’t we at least seize his property? And him, for that matter?” Cedar asked, our newest member at the inner circle’s table and my protégé.

Like most of us, he’d been turned in his late twenties. But he was less than a century old, whereas everyone else at the table had multiple under their belt. When he’d turned, he came into an impressive amount of fire magick and proved himself a keen fighter and sharp mind. Though my clan was ruled by loyalty, I also ensured that merit warranted paths to upward mobility.

All eyes moved to him, and he swallowed, trying and failing to hide his quickened pulse.

“That greatly overestimates King Earle and his council’s regard for the treaty and my rule,” I said curtly. “We do not yet have full autonomy from the kingdom.”

I gritted my teeth. King Earle, the Vampire King, was not only born, but was also nearing one thousand years old. At this point, it was hard to call what he was arrogant more than it was wholly indifferent to anything or anyone that did not serve him and his current desires. It was my determination that the king was no longer fit to rule. And if the whispers that washed up on Valentin’s shore were to be trusted, some of his council might agree with that assessment.

Valentin was not the only place in this realm that was hurdling toward upheaval.

For a moment, I thought of Little Flame, entirely unaware that the natural state of this world was war, in some form or another. She hadn’t been alive long enough to learn this truth. She didn’t know what I did—how to recognize the patterns and read the signs that repeated over and over throughout history. To her, the future was this pristine, untouched field of possibility. She didn’t see just how tightly she was already constrained, how much of her life had already been determined.

I was a proponent of revealing reality’s harsh brutality to all beings as soon as they were capable of grasping it. But despite all logic, all of my lived experiences and immortality’s apathetic veil of unchangingness, I wanted Scarlett to keep seeing the world the way she saw it, right now. I didn’t want her to know what I did.

I wanted her to keep burning with all the hope and grit and defiance in the world.

“The only thing that will work to our advantage here is that Durian claiming to be Lillian’s chosen will supremely piss off King Dickface,” Uriah said.

I threw him a sidelong look. “Watch that language when the dignitaries arrive. You’re not nearly pretty enough to go to war over.”

Uriah clutched his chest. “Ouch.” He grinned. “Though pretty enough implies you do think I’m pretty.”

I smirked, resting my hands on either arm of my chair as I gazed out over my inner circle. Each vampire in my clan had their own distinct tattoo, indicative of their talents and magick. Uriah’s was a web of sharp edges and geometric patterns, able to leap from his skin and slice clean through flesh like blades. Cedar’s tattoos were black flames that crawled up his torso to his neck. Mason’s took the shape of waves and droplets, a sea of darkness similar to my own. We fought well together.

We all did. And I had the uncanny certainty in my bones that no matter what moves we made, violence would reach the streets of Aristelle. It would reach greater Valentin and all of Ravenia too. The heart I’d thought had long frozen over cracked just a fissure, knowing that war would occur in Scarlett’s lifetime, robbing her of the full, untethered life she deserved.

As soon as I stepped foot in Aristelle’s most lucrative and expansive club, Odessa, I was greeted by several of my top staff.

“Rune,” my head manager said with a nod.

These people knew by now to address me as Rune and only Rune. My first name was far more intimidating and sinister than any honorific.

“Is there anything we can do for you?” he asked. He was a wolf shifter, a member of one of Aristelle’s most notorious and long-standing packs.

Broad-shouldered and all muscles, he’d been nothing but effective in maintaining order in this den of depravity.

“No,” I said. “You all may take your leave.”

They all nodded, getting out of my face so I could finally survey my clan’s biggest asset. The night was young, but mortals and vampires still spread out all across the main room, heading up to the balcony or down to the sex dungeons below. The mortals were drinking alcohol or witch elixir, and the vampires were mainly drinking the mortals.

All consensual, of course. Our staff were all hand-picked for their beauty, though some were merely there to tease as they served drinks and food. Others were hired courtesans, paid to seduce and share their blood freely with our wealthier patrons.

Then there were the bouncers, composed of trained vampire hunters and turned fully capable and willing to maim or kill anyone who stepped out of line. Restraining those under bloodlust was our first line of defense, but there was the occasional perpetrator who didn’t deserve any benefit of the doubt and needed to be made an example of. Usually, vampires who thought that because a mortal was a sex worker, that meant they had no limits or ability to refuse certain acts or patrons. Or born vampires who came looking for trouble.

Tonight, everything appeared as it should. The main room was dimly lit and opulent, designed to imitate the inside of a classical, luxurious palace, perhaps one the gods would’ve inhabited when they still roamed the earth. Glittering chandeliers hung from the golden ceiling, warm, dim witch lights floating high above. The onyx marble floor was covered with various carpets, and the seating ranged from casual dark wood stools and tables to cozy, low leather couches and plush loveseats.

I walked slowly through the area, pulling all focus on me. The chilling, crushing weight of my power had heads turning before I’d even entered their lines of vision.

“Hey,” a bouncer barked. “Take it downstairs.”

My eyes landed on the reprimanded couple, two wealthy regulars, a shirtless vampire man and a dark-haired human woman tangled on the floor. His hand was around her throat, and she was grinning, her eyes glazed over with the unmistakable haze of elixir. She pressed her thighs together, and the vampire man gave her neck one last squeeze before pulling her into his arms. As he carried her toward one of the winding staircases, my gaze snagged on the swing of those dark curls.

I thought of Scarlett, and all of my shadows awakened at once. The ire on my face must’ve been downright murderous, because as soon as one of the servers met my gaze, she audibly whimpered and scurried away. She stumbled, barely catching the tray of empty glasses balanced on her flat palm.

I sighed, rolling my neck. Time and distance. The years would pass, and soon she would be merely a hazy memory, nothing but a peculiarity of my unending existence.

“Hey.”

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