Page 39 of Blood Bound

I’m about to retort when the door swings open. My words die in my throat as Lucien glides in, followed by Valerian, Arabella’s advisor.

What the hell?

“Grand Elder,” Lucien purrs, bowing deeply. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Arabella’s eyebrows lift slightly. “Lord Marlowe. This is…unexpected.”

I fight to keep my face neutral. Lucien’s timing is impeccable, as always. Too impeccable.

“My apologies for the intrusion,” Lucien continues. “But I felt compelled to share some rather urgent information.” His eyes flick to me, a hint of amusement in their depths. “Ah, Darick. How fortunate you’re here as well.”

“Lucien,” I growl, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “What an unpleasant surprise.”

Arabella’s gaze sharpens. “What information, Lord Marlowe?”

Lucien’s smile is all teeth. “It concerns our mutual friend here, actually. And his…shall we say, extracurricular activities?”

Goddammit!

As if things weren’t bad enough.

“Oh?” Arabella’s tone is deceptively light. “Do tell.”

I step forward, my hands itching to wrap around Lucien’s throat. “Whatever game you’re playing, Lucien—”

“Now, now,” Valerian interjects from his position near the door. “Let’s hear what Lord Marlowe has to say. After all, we’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

The look I shoot Valerian could melt steel. He merely smirks in response.

Lucien spreads his hands in a gesture of innocence. “I’m simply concerned for our kind, Grand Elder. Darick’s recent…associations have raised some eyebrows. I fear they may compromise our delicate negotiations with the witches.”

“You dare—” I start, but Arabella cuts me off with a raised hand.

“Elaborate, Lord Marlowe,” she commands.

Lucien’s smile turns fawning as he addresses Arabella. “Our esteemed colleague has been…shall we say, fraternizing with certain elements that could compromise our entire society.”

I tense as Lucien continues, “It seems Darick has developed quite an appetite for witch blood lately. Curious, isn’t it? One might wonder if there’s a particular reason for this newfound taste.”

Arabella’s gaze sharpens. “What are you implying, Lord Marlowe?”

“Oh, nothing specific,” Lucien says, his eyes gleaming with malice. “I just find it interesting that a vampire of Darick’s standing and…vitality…would suddenly require such frequent doses of witch blood. It’s almost as if he’s developed a dependency.”

I open my mouth to defend myself, but Valerian beats me to it. “It does seem rather concerning, doesn’t it? Perhaps Darick’s judgment has been…compromised?”

The urge to rip out Valerian’s tongue is almost overwhelming. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to remain calm. I can’t let them see how much this affects me. I can’t let them know the truth.

“Grand Elder,” I say, my voice cold and controlled, “it’s no secret that there’s no love lost between Lord Marlowe and myself. His attempts to discredit me are as transparent as they are pathetic.”

Lucien’s eyes narrow, but I press on before he can interject.

“These allegations are pure fiction, designed to deflect attention from his own questionable activities. If anyone’s judgment should be called into question, it’s his.”

“How dare you!” Lucien snaps, taking a step towards me. “You’re the one compromising our entire society with your witch obsession!”

I laugh, the sound harsh and mirthless. “Obsession? That’s interesting, coming from you. Tell me, Lucien, how many witches have disappeared lately? And how many of those disappearances can be traced back to your doorstep?”

Lucien’s face contorts with fury. “You’re treading on dangerous ground, Drake.”

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