Page 58 of Blood Bound

Chapter 18

Darick

I’m seething as I stalk across the dancefloor, bodies parting like a tide before me. I know there are curious stares, but I ignore them.

Goddamn woman!

I swear to God, she must have a death wish.

“Fuck’s sake!” I mutter under my breath as I push past a particularly burly vampire male. He takes one look at my face and immediately backpedals several steps, eyes lowered.

Marcus, striding a couple of steps behind me, makes a low sound of annoyance. “You need to get your head in the game, Drake.”

“You think?” I growl. I resist the urge to shoot a look back to the secluded alcove I just left. The place where we-

Stop.

I can’t focus on what needs to be done while I’m worrying about her.

I push through the ornate doors of the Salon Privé, Marcus close on my heels. It’s hushed within; the aroma of aged leather hits me, a contrast to the pulsing beat and sweat-soaked air of the main lounge.

Selene and Elias are already there, seated in plush, high-backed chairs that wouldn’t look out of place in a medieval castle. Their eyes snap to me as I enter, and I catch the slight narrowing of Selene’s gaze.

Shit. We’re late.

“My apologies.” I look around for a suitable chair. I’m still on edge, Rowan’s scent clinging to me like a second skin. “There was a…situation.”

Selene raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment.

Elias, ever the diplomat, gestures to the empty seats. “Arabella will be here any minute.”

I sink into the nearest chair, taking in the room. It’s a masterpiece of vampire aesthetics – modern luxury seamlessly blended with ancient touches. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over sleek metal tables and centuries-old tapestries. Along one wall, a chrome display case houses what looks like Roman artifacts.

Selene clears her throat, drawing my attention back to the matter at hand. “We’ve gathered some intel on Lucien’s recent activities,” she starts, but I’m only half-listening.

My mind keeps drifting back to Rowan, to the heat of her skin under my hands, the taste of her lips. I shake my head, trying to focus. This isn’t the time for distractions.

“Darick?” Selene’s sharp voice cuts through my thoughts. “Are you with us?”

I nod, straightening in my seat. “Yes, of course.”

“Arabella will expect us to have our stories straight, so you’d better get your head right.” She frowns at me. She doesn’t get a chance to chastise me further because the discreet door at the back of the room swings open.

I straighten as Arabella glides into the room, her eyes sweeping over us with barely concealed disdain.

“Well,” she says, her voice cool as a winter breeze, “I hope this meeting proves worth my time, Selene.”

Selene inclines her head respectfully. “I assure you, Grand Elder, we wouldn’t have requested your presence without good reason.”

Arabella’s gaze settles on me, and I rise, bowing my head deferentially. “And you, Darick. I trust you’ve finally found some real evidence to support your…accusations?”

I fight back a surge of irritation. “With all due respect, Grand Elder, we’ve gathered significant information—”

She cuts me off with a wave of her hand. “Spare me the theatrics. I fail to see why we couldn’t discuss this in my chambers. All this cloak-and-dagger nonsense hardly seems necessary.”

“Security concerns,” Marcus interjects smoothly.

Arabella arches an eyebrow. “And you think the Nocturne Lounge is more secure than my own sanctum?”

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