Page 23 of Blood Caged

“Since my loyalty is assured, and you’re not prepared to share any more details, I don’t see why you needed to meet with me, Marlowe.”

He eyes me for a moment, then speaks. “I wanted to get the measure of you, Soren.”

“The measure of me?” I hate how casually he uses my name. As if we’re friends. This man is no friend of mine.

“Yes. I want to see what you’re made of. To see if you’re fit for this job. Maxwell seemed confident, but I… Well, I’m a hands-on kind of man.” He smirks. “I like to know who’s working for me.”

“Let’s get one thing perfectly clear right now, Marlowe,” I snarl. “I don’t work for you. My loyalty lies with my maker.”

“And by that token, it lies with me.”

Fuck, he’s a smug bastard.

“Yes,” I acknowledge. I don’t mean it, but I can feel Maxwell’s discomfort growing, so I say it for him. “So,” I add, “if this was what you wanted to know, then I gather this conversation is over?” I start turning to the door, knowing I’m pushing the boundaries of courtesy but unable to tolerate being around him any longer. The air around him feels toxic.

“One last thing, Lord Daire,” he stops me.

I pause. “Yes?”

“You’re sure you’re up to this task? The female has ways to bewitch a man. You may be out of your depth.”

“I’m not afraid of the witch,” I snap. “And I have no intention of letting her get to me on any level. On that, you have my word.” I glance at Maxwell as I say it because my promise is meant for him rather than the snake in front of me. The lines around Maxwell’s eyes soften, which is a small reward, but I’ll take it.

“Good. That’s all I wanted. You may leave.” Lucien waves a hand as if dismissing me.

I may leave?

Who they fuck does he think he is? Bringing me all the way here just to gloat and “get the measure” of me.

I manage a tight nod in the direction of my maker, then turn on my heel and walk out the door. I fight not to slam it behind me.

This is a monumental fuck-up. I can feel it in every cell in my body. My maker is dancing like a puppet on a string, and I’ve become just a cog in Lucien’s political machine. And I don’t even know what role I play.

My teeth are grinding as I stalk toward the door to the mansion.

Greater good? Change the course of history for our kind?

What bullshit is that? Our culture has strong codes, a clearly defined structure. And it’s all carefully interwoven with vampire integration into human society. If he’s planning to shift the balance of power, change the way we function, our entire house of cards could come tumbling down.

I have to find out what the fuck’s going on. And I have to do it before this madman destroys all of us.

8

Chapter 8

Mia

There’s a now-familiar gratingsound from the huge iron door, and instinctively, I withdraw to the back of the cell. A strange part of me almost wonders if it will be him on the other side.

Soren. The vampire bastard.

But it’s not. I haven’t seen him again since I arrived. The heavyset woman who shoves the door open is human. I figured that out the first day she came for me.

That was a week ago. At least, I think it was; there’s no natural light to judge the passage of time. I’ve been using my meals to give me an idea of whether it’s morning or night. The congealed bowl of oats seems most likely to be breakfast, and I’ve been guessing that the daily mound of rice and stew is probablydinner. Though if they wanted to mess with me, they could give me oats at night, and I’d be none-the-wiser.

“You’re up, princess,” the woman in the doorway says. When I don’t respond immediately, her dishwater eyes narrow. “What you waiting for? Engraved invitation or what?”

I nod once and head for the door, skirting her cautiously. I’ve already had more than one cuff to the head for moving too slowly. I turn left as we get into the hall, already knowing where we’re headed. Two male guards fall in behind us, heavily armed. Also human. It’s another thing that helps me figure out the time of day.

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