Page 86 of Blood Match

I swallow hard and nod, hoping my nervousness isn’t too obvious. “I’ll do my best,” I manage to say, wondering just how much Gran has told her. Although knowing my grandmother, it would have been just enough without compromising my situation. I’m sure she’s as reluctant to share my secret with others as I am. A witch with a vampire? It’s a freaking disaster.

Not that I’m with, with him. It’s a business arrangement. Magic for blood. That’s all.

Liar.

My skin is still tingling with the memory of his touch.

I force myself to focus on the matter at hand. As the group continues to discuss strategy, I can’t help but wonder what awaits us behind those imposing doors. And whether he’ll be there, watching me just as closely as I’ll be watching him.

Dammit, Rowan! Stop thinking about the man!

As we enter the room, I’m struck by its grandeur. Towering columns of polished marble line the walls, supporting a vaulted ceiling adorned with faded frescoes that must be as old as the building itself. A massive oval table dominates the center beneath the warm glow of concealed lighting.

But that’s not what has my attention.

My eyes are immediately drawn to him. Darick. He stands tall and imposing among the other vampires. He’s beautiful in the way that a predator is beautiful – breathtaking and deadly. His chiseled features seem carved from marble, perfect and cold and utterly disinterested. It’s as if he’s totally unaffected by my unexpected arrival, the pale blue of his eyes barely flickering as they move over me.

I wish I could say the same for myself. I take in the sight of him as if he’s a three-course meal and I haven’t eaten in weeks. He’s wearing a crisp black button-down, open at the throat, beneath a tailored gray suit jacket that clings to his broad shoulders. It makes my breath catch as I think of how I was clinging to those shoulders just a couple of hours ago.

I force myself to look away, taking in the other vampires. There’s a tall woman in a white tailored suit whose regal bearing says she must be their leader. Beside her, a man dressed completely in black with jet-black hair and cunning eyes watches us with barely concealed hostility. I count six vampires in total, each radiating power and danger.

We take our seats, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. The silver-haired vampire – Grand Elder Arabella Ravenscroft, I learn – inclines her head slightly toward Seraphina.

“High Priestess,” she says, her voice cool and measured. “We welcome you and your delegation.”

Seraphina returns the nod. “Grand Elder. We appreciate your willingness to meet.”

Suddenly, Darick’s voice fills my head.

“What are you doing here?”

I stiffen, my hands clenching under the table.

“Get out of my thoughts,” I project back fiercely. “You know the rules!”

“I asked you a question.”

I stare studiously ahead of me, refusing to let him in. I imagine a heavily padlocked door slamming shut, barring his access. It seems to work because the silence in my head is immediate. Across the table, I notice him shift in his seat, his features setting with barely concealed rage, his eyes narrowed on me.

He’s pissed.

Too bad.

Gran’s hand finds mine beneath the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I glance at her, seeing the silent support in her eyes. Taking a deep breath, I try to focus on the meeting, but I can’t shake the acute awareness of Darick’s presence across the table.

Arabella moves forward slightly, her eyes on our High Priestess. “What is the purpose of this gathering?” she asks, her voice smooth as silk but with an underlying edge.

Seraphina doesn’t hesitate. “We’re here to address the recent attack on one of our most sacred rites, a Starlight Vigil,” she says firmly. “It was a grievous violation of our long-standing agreements.”

Arabella’s expression softens slightly. “We deeply regret any harm that has come to your people,” she says, sounding genuinely concerned. “Such actions are not condoned by the Assembly.”

Before Seraphina can respond, the dark-haired vampire cuts in. “The witches have no right to jump to conclusions,” he says icily. “This could easily have been the work of rogue elements. We can’t be held responsible for every vampire’s actions.”

“Lucien.” The Grand Elder fixes him with a look. “Let them state their case.”

I feel a surge of anger at his dismissive tone, but Seraphina doesn’t rise to the bait. She continues as if Lucien hadn’t spoken.

“Beyond this recent attack, which you deny responsibility for,” she shoots a look at Lucien, “we must address the ongoing issue of witch abductions,” she says, her voice steady but forceful. “This has been a problem for centuries, forcing our people into hiding. It’s time we get to the bottom of these incidents.”

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