Page 44 of Queen of Vampire Hearts

I stumbled to the bathroom, absently noticing all my toiletries intermingled with his as if we were a real couple.His high-handedness should agitate me, but I was too hungover to care.

I struggled through brushing my teeth four times to get the lingering taste of moonshine out of my mouth before moving to fiddle with the shower. When the water turned hot, I stepped beneath it, letting out a wistful sigh.

The scalding heat relieved some of the aches in my muscles and made my head slightly less foggy. I looked down at myself, frowning at the appearance of several bruises on my legs. Was a night of drinking complete if I didn’t wake up with mysterious bruises? It didn’t help that being a natural redhead guaranteed they would show up at the slightest bump.

After a luxurious forty-five minutes, I turned off the water and exited the glass stall, feeling somewhat more human. There was a pile of clean clothes on the counter. Lucien must have brought them in. The action was so normal. I almost teared up. It was like we’d been together for years. I could not let myself get any more attached to this man.

Lucien had selected a pair of yoga pants and a black tank top with some of the raciest lingerie I’d ever seen. There was the Lucien I knew.I blushed as I fingered them. The bra was a series of straps and black elastic that would cup my breasts, barely covering my nipples. The bottoms were a thong, also black elastic, that would snap against my skin. They felt utterly wicked as I slid them on with a shiver, my headache lessening as I became more turned on.

“Phoebe, what are you doing in there?” Lucien called at the door, a smirk in his voice.

I blushed. Damn his stupid vampire-enhanced sense of smell. “Nothing!” I shouted back, but my voice cracked.

I yanked on the rest of the clothes, trying to calm my lustful thoughts. I had to stop thinking about him taking off the lingerie! With his teeth! Bad! His voice was next to the door when it came again. “You sure?” he asked smugly.

I whipped the door open, tempted to punch him in the face. “Yes.”

He was still smiling as I brushed past him, but Lucien stopped me by grasping my hand. He pulled it to his lips for a brief, sweet kiss, then walked in step with me toward the kitchen. I flushed at his tender gesture but kept my gaze averted, remaining silent for the walk. When we stood together in the kitchen doorway, I pulled my hand from his, wishing I didn’t see him frown at the loss.

Every trace of the previous night was erased. There were no lingering bottles or shot glasses. It was like a dream, except for the four miserable werewolves sitting at the breakfast table. A breakfast buffet was laid out. The plates were set off to the side, and even an espresso machine. If only the sight and smells were not giving me the immediate urge to hurl.

Gunnar, who was the first out last night, pushed away an untouched plate of food, slightly green at the sight. Viggo and Thurston were staring deeply into cups of coffee as if the answers to all the world’s questions lay within. Leif, who lasted the longest against me, had his head on the table and had covered it with a pillow, attempting to muffle all sounds.

Erik was deliberately clanging his silverware and plate as he picked from the buffet, an evil smile on his face the entire time.

Gunnar was the first to catch sight of us lingering in the doorway and croaked, “I didn’t expect to see you among the living,völva.”

I recognized the word as Old Norse forwitch. He started calling me that somewhere between the third and sixth shot. When I’d pointed out how much it sounded likevulva, a smile cracked his grim face, and the others had been unable to conceal their shock at the sight.

The other three men groaned, and a smile spread across my face. Even as my head pounded, I masked my hangover, refusing to show any signs of discomfort. I had a reputation to uphold, after all. I strutted forward to the buffet, filled a mug with glorious coffee, and piled a plate full of food. Lucien took a mug of blood for himself and swiped my plate. He put both down on the table and pulled a chair out for me, refusing to give me the option to sit elsewhere without causing a scene. Damn it! Why did he have to be sweet and thoughtful on top of being high-handed and controlling?

I sighed heavily and sat down. He took the seat next to me, bringing mine as close as possible to his until our thighs touched. Even that small amount of contact had me blushing and tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear. I was just going to pretend there was not a pack of lycans watching this exchange with blatant curiosity.I focused on my plate and nibbled on my bacon, trying not to taste or smell it.

Lucien was glaring at his own breakfast, blanching at the blood in front of him. If I didn’t know better, I would think his mug was full of that other life-giving liquid—coffee. Lucien took a sip and shuddered.

“Has it gone bad?” I murmured. Did blood go bad? He shook his head, taking another sip, his lip curling back from his teeth. “You don’t have to drink it, Lucien.”

“It’s fine,” he snapped.

Okaaay. That was the last time I worried about his diet.

Determined to ignore Lucien while he was acting like such a dick, I looked around the round table at everyone pretending they hadn’t heard the terse conversation between us. “Where’s Cassandra?” I asked.

A harried-looking Elijah burst into the room, clutching something in his fist. “She’s gone. She left a note for you, my queen.”

I brushed off my hands, reaching for the scrap of paper Elijah held out. The parchment was old, wrapped around a handful of…Red Vines? Thank the gods that immortals couldn’t get cavities, or Cassandra’s teeth would have fallen out already.

I unfurled the note, my brows furrowing as I read the words written in precise script.

Little does the new moon comprehend,

The era of false rulers is at its end.

What in all hells? I turned the sheet over, looking for something to explain the bizarre message. There was nothing but a small scribble on the back:Eat the Red Vines and perish.I gave the note to Lucien, who then passed it on to the wolves. Everyone seemed equally puzzled by it.

Lucien read the note once more before handing it back. “Best hold on to it and the Red Vines. You never know with Cassandra.”

Gunnar lowered one of the Red Vines he’d raised to his mouth. Lucien looked back at his mug of blood, swirling it with a grimace, dismissing the note and message. Unable to resist my natural curiosity, I asked, “How did you find her?”

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