Page 110 of The Vampire's Bride

Eben hops down from the driver’s seat and looks at me and Valaric. “If you run into any trouble, I will be nearby.”

“Let us hope it does not come to that,” Damar says. He straightens and smooths a hand through his hair before turning his gaze to the manor. “Let’s get this over with.”

I loop my arm around Valaric’s as we walk up the pathway to the main entrance. Imposing, gargoyle statues sit on either side of the large metal doors, their life-like eyes made of blue and white marble seeming to track our every move.

Two human men, that I’m assuming must be bloodsworn, bow low as we approach. Their eyes flick between me and Valaric, curiosity furrowing their brows.

When they push open the massive entry doors, haunting music echoes along the stone walls.

The front hall is a gaudy spectacle of golden objects and furniture studded with jewels. In the center of the cavernous room is a massive statue of Lord Stryker himself. It’s tall and imposing, and perfectly captures the condescending gaze I remember from our meeting at the clothier’s shop.

“Stay close,” Damar mutters under his breath as his eyes sweep over the room. “And, whatever you do,do notlet down your guard.”

A servant leads us to a large set of metal doors, ornately carved with dozens of flying ravens. He pushes them open and the music swells even louder as it spills outside.

The ballroom is the epitome of decadent luxury. Golden chandeliers hang from the ceiling, their flickering candles casting an eerie glow across the faces of the gathered attendants. The air is thick with the scent of heavy spice with a trace of iron.

Gilded mirrors line the walls, reflecting dozens of elegantly dressed couples as they glide across the floor, keeping time with the hauntingly beautiful music. It seems that the rumors about Vampires not having reflections is yet another myth about Valaric’s people.

Long tables frame either side of the dance floor, and I notice several bloodsworn humans, their beautiful clothing as resplendent as those of their Vampire lords and ladies. Some sitdemurely on cushions at their Vampire’s feet, their eyes lowered. A few are even collared as if they were nothing more than pets.

The entire scene sets my nerves on edge. I am the only human here not bound by servitude, a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed as I walk arm in arm with Valaric, with Damar on my opposite side.

A hushed silence falls over the room as we make our way toward a raised dais. Several eyes track us, some of them shining with curiosity while others observe with a calculating gaze.

Valaric wraps a possessive arm around my waist as he glares at the crowd, a silent warning to stay away from what is his.

A bead of sweat trickles down my spine as worry wraps tight around my chest.

Damar leans in. “Try to calm yourself,” he says in a low voice. “I can hear your heart fluttering like a trapped bird in a cage. The scent of your fear will only serve to entice the others.” His intense gaze locks on mine. “Show them you are unafraid.”

“I’m doing the best I can,” I hiss.

The irritated look on his face tells me he doesn’t think I’m trying hard enough.

“It will be all right,” Valaric whispers, trying to reassure me. “I will allow no harm to come to you, Juliet.”

I have no doubt he would do anything to protect me. As my gaze travels over the room and the dozens of red eyes fixed upon mine, I hope he never has to.

When we reach the raised dais, a Vampire takes a seat on one of the gilded chairs, and the entire room falls silent.

A gold circlet crown nestles in his short hair, which is a striking cascade of red fading into silver white. Dressed in a deep red tunic and black pants, he stares down at us with an imperious look.

A human woman with long, flowing brown hair stands beside him. She appears to be around my age, somewhere betweentwenty and twenty-five years old. Dressed in a crimson gown that matches his tunic, her warm brown eyes flick up to meet mine before quickly lowering again.

“That is Prince Raine and his bloodsworn,” Damar murmurs under his breath. “We must bow.”

The prince?I’ve heard so many terrible stories about him. My heart taps a frantic beat as I execute what I hope is an acceptable bow alongside my husband and Damar.

“You may rise,” the prince’s rich voice cuts through the awkward silence in the room.

Drawing in a deep breath, I lift my head and straighten my back, slightly tipping up my chin to feign a courage I definitely do not feel in this moment.

A servant places a cushion at the prince’s feet for the human woman to sit upon.

Prince Raine looks at it and snarls in disgust. “Bring a stool for my blood wife,” he snaps. “Now.”

The servant scrambles to do as he says. When I look back at the prince, his crimson eyes are fixed on me, their burning intensity making me want to hide behind my husband.

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