Page 135 of Fated In Blood

Do it. I don’t want to be the one who ruins our plans by thinking too loudly.

That cold, smothering sensation added an extra layer of confidence when we stepped into the dining room, vast enough to seat a hundred people. Tonight there were only seven guests. Eight, if you counted Bosch, who took up position by the door beside his guards, as if any of us were stupid enough to try and flee.

I clasped my shaking hands together, willing myself to stay calm. I’d prepared myself for the past hour, convincing myself I was ready to see Angel again, but I wasn’t.

My sister looked more beautiful than ever before, even with that cruel, calculating twist to her red lips that reminded me so much of Tyrell. Her gown was a sweep of emerald-green velvet, sedate as a nun in front, the back dipping well below the wings tattooed above the curve of her spine, where Tyrell’s hand splayed across her pale skin, right above where the V ended.

I own her, his satisfied smile said.She is no longer yours to claim.

Let it go, little slayer.Blake’s soft warning rang in my head as he moved us toward the table, brushing his hand over my tensed shoulder.This will be a long night. It’s far too early to let him get a rise out of you.

Malachi reclined in a chair on the far side of the table, long hair brushed smooth and a silky white shirt beneath a red crushed-velvet jacket. Collum was in fighting leathers, sizing me up with a satisfied smirk.

I tore my eyes away from my sister and gazed at Riordan, hands clasped tightly before him, his face so expressionless I couldn’t read him. But something was wrong.

I couldn’t put my finger on what had changed, only…there was a strange hum in my blood that put me off-balance. A tremor of foreboding chasing through me like a ghost. Seated between Malachi and Collum, Roirdan was dressed in all black, only the blue flecks in his eyes breaking the somberness of his funeral attire.

The table sagged beneath the weight of crystal and silver and porcelain, an ostentatious display, even for Tyrell, but I slipped into the seat Blake pulled out for me, directly across from Riordan. Tyrell predictably sat at the head of the table, Blake to my left, my sister to my right, and the moment we were seated, servants swept in from the alcoves with trays of delicacies, crystal goblets overflowing with blood.

“Don’t eat anything,” Blake warned softly. “Don’t drink, either.”

Red-stained goblets were set before us, food piled on plates, candles lit, then the servants were gone, as if I’d imagined them. Beneath the heavy tablecloth, I tugged my skirts higher so I could reach my weapon when, not if, I needed to fight my way out of here.

“I must say, I’d hoped you’d defy me just this once, Riordan.” Tyrell lifted his glass, and when the light hit the crystal it turned the dark fluid an angry shade of red. “But I am forever doomed to be disappointed.”

Riordan didn’t take the bait, only reached for his own glass and took a slow sip, the contents staining his lips. I couldn’t explain the quick stab of possessive jealousy that tore through me, or how much I wanted to leap over this table and knock that glass from his hand, but I balled my hand into a fist instead.

He hadn’t glanced my direction once, his gaze drifting from Tyrell to Angel, then to Malachi sitting to Tyrell’s right. I couldn’t tell if his avoidance was some kind of hint…or if he was finished with me now that he had the dagger in his possession.

“How are you enjoying your new life, dear?” I glanced away from Riordan to find Tyrell smiling down the table at me. “Is it everything you’d hoped it would be? If you find Crimson House tiresome, you are always more than welcome here.”

“I am good right where I am.” I peered over at Angel gazing up at Tyrell so adoringly I wanted to vomit. “This place is a bit gaudy for my taste.”

That creeping smile grew brittle before he reached across the plates of food and grasped Angel’s hand. “I wished to extend the invitation, since we’re family now. My beloved mate will be needing help in the coming months, and her sister would be just the thing to keep her spirits up.”

“What kind of…help?” I asked, clenching my fists tighter.

“Why, the arrival of our firstborn son, of course. A momentous occasion for any couple, but of course this birth has special meaning.” That cruel glint in his eyes sharpened. “Since you took Spencer from me, it’s only proper that Angelique provide me with another heir. You already look so radiant, my love, carrying my child.”

I was definitely going to be sick, right here, all over this table.

“Of course, in a few days’ time, you will have nowhere else to go, Evangeline…May I call you Evangeline? Once the blood oath is broken and Riordan and Blake are executed for their crimes, I plan to raze Crimson House to the ground.” He cut into the meat on his plate and popped the perfect square into his mouth.

“I expect you’ll fit in quite nicely. Collum, especially, is looking forward to having a female’s touch around…”

Without warning, Blake launched himself across the table, taking Collum down in a spectacular tackle that sent them both rolling across the floor. Tyrell, I noted, didn’t stop the attack, and I wondered if this, too, was part of tonight’s spectacle.

Blake ended up on top, fists flying so fast they were a blur, only the thick, meaty sounds of knuckles pummeling flesh telling me how fast he was moving. He was going to kill Collum before we even started our first course, and I was totally here for it.

Angel made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a sob, head hanging, shoulders shaking. I reached over and gripped her knee with my right hand, squeezing tight.

My left hand rested on the hilt of my knife, every muscle tensed to take down Bosch, who was ordering his men to secure the door. I would have gutted the fucker, but I never got the chance.

“Sit down.” Tyrell’s voice thrummed through the air, and Blake snapped upright to a standing position, pivoted like a marionette, then jerkily limped back around the table, dragged across the floor under Tyrell’s control.

Riordan’s knuckles were white, hands clasped together so tightly I heard joints pop.

Blake fell into the chair beside me, breath sawing in and out of his lungs. His hand trembled violently as he reached for his glass, lifted it shakily to his lips, and drank the entire thing in one gulp.

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