Page 2 of Last Note
Not taking my eyes off Moël’s back, I walk past all the priceless paintings and artifacts we brought with us or have collected since we bought this house. They lose their meaning after so long, just scattered pieces bringing color and breaking the monotony of the white walls caging us in. What if we are deteriorating because we’ve been away from immortal blood and feeding on just humans for too long?
I’m pulled out of my rapidly depressing thoughts by the sound of Lucien’s footsteps behind me. My lips lift at the corners. In all his anger, he can’t stand not knowing what’s going on. My middle brother is known to this day for his spying skills and network of informants. That’s why the murder of our father hit him the hardest. Just like the rest of us, he didn’t see it coming, but he is the only one who took it as a personal failure.
A sigh escapes me. What a mess.
Moël swings the door to his room open, stepping aside to let us both in. As soon as we cross the threshold, he swipes his arm around with a flourish, wiggling his head strangely. It must be a gesture he picked up while spending too much time with the humans. I stop short, causing Lucien to bump into my back.
The room looks like a storm has passed through it. Drawers from the furniture are hanging open, and the closet door has tipped sideways on the broken hinges. His clothing is thrown around the room and covers everything, some of it hanging from the chandelier where it swings gently at the center of the ceiling.
“What the fuck…” Lucien shoulders his way past me, spinning in place to look around. “Someone has gone past our wards. You can’t be stupid enough to think a cat did this.” He glares at Moël.
“I saw the cursed creature running out of the room with one of my shirts covering it.” Moël’s nostrils flare. “Apart from the cat’s scent, I can’t smell anyone else. Can you?”
Lifting my chin up, I take a long sniff, but he is right. No other scent is present apart from the cat’s, at least besides our own. Unlocking my muscles, I walk around the room, picking things up between two fingers and moving them away. Lucien does the same, moving silently as he flashes from one side to the other, searching for clues. Moël just leans his shoulder against the door’s entrance, watching us grimly.
“A cat can’t do this.” Lucien finally stops in the middle of the room, his fists clenched at his sides. “Someone else was here, but they hid their scent.”
“Is that possible? No one has been able to hide from one of us, little less all of us together.” A line forms between Moël’s eyebrows.
“We should go feed.” They both look at me like I’ve grown another head. “The aggression is too high right now, and we need a moment to collect ourselves. You have your wish, Lucien. Let us go to that club you mentioned.”
They watch me skeptically for a few more moments but eventually spring into action. Slapping me on the shoulder, Lucien drags me along with him, probably so I don’t have the opportunity to change my mind. Things just got more complicated. This is not us going insane. Maybe we were finally found? Keeping a low profile will never last forever, and I know that. It just seems too soon. We are not yet ready.
I’m not yet ready to face the past.
2
“Lucien.” The bouncer nods at my brother, unhooking the rope to allow us to enter.
Apparently, humans know us by name now. Ignoring the hungry eyes of the females in the long line to our right, their necks straining to get a better look at us, I follow my brother. This is why I stay away from them. We are made to lure our prey, and their meager minds can’t understand the danger they are in. All they see is what their eyes will show them. No thrill, no chase, just a crook of a finger and you hold their life in your hand, or fangs as the case may be.
I have to squint when we enter the club, the bright, harsh lights flashing and spinning, burning my eyes. The loud bass of the music thumps inside my chest, disorienting me for a second, forcing my fangs to drop down. Moël wraps his fingers over my shoulder, his presence like an anchor helping me come back to myself.
“It’s hard the first few times. You’ll get used to it.” I hear him clearly over the too-loud music.
“This is why I hate listening to Lucien.” Grumbling, I see my middle brother grin at me over his shoulder. Asshole.
“Let’s go.” Moël nudges my ribs.
Following Lucien through the tightly packed bodies writhing around us, I’m glad humans can’t hear the low growl in my chest when I feel their hands on me. How the two of them can willingly deal with this every night is beyond me. Humans are food. It should stay that way. As part of the royal bloodline, we need immortal blood from time to time to keep our superior strength and powers, but when that is not available, humans will do just fine. We have no need to mingle with them.
“You shouldn’t play with your food.” My father’s words ring inside my head, startling me.
Reaching the raised platform lining the walls, I climb a couple of stairs, sliding in the circular leather seat. Finally relaxing my coiled-up body, I roll my shoulders to get rid of the stiffness. Lucien smirks at my discomfort, disappearing through the crowd as he heads for the bar. Moël glides next to me, scanning the packed club. Following his lead, I do the same.
Practically naked females wearing too much makeup rub against males with glazed eyes as they sway drunkenly to the beat. The stench of sweat mixed with strong perfumes and colognes burns my nostrils, forcing me to part my lips so I can stay seated. Leaning forward, I try hard to see what my brothers are seeing. What is the allure to mingle, hoping to fit in? We will never be one of them. Even I can see how badly we stand out from them all. Someone steps in front of me, blocking the view of the undulating bodies on the open dancefloor.
“What’s your poison?” A blonde woman in tight leather shorts and a red shirt that is barely covering her breasts bats her eyelashes at me, subtly pursing her chest.
Her blood is pumping through her veins, and the longer I keep my eyes on her, the faster her heartbeat becomes. All my senses center on the fluid passing through her, and I wince when I feel my fangs pierce the inside of my lower lip. Lucien might be right about one thing. I haven’t fed for too long, and this is the consequence of my laxity.
“Bring a bottle of our usual.” Moël winks at the blonde, startling her from her trance. Keeping the smile frozen on his face, he nudges my foot under the table.
She blinks at him stupidly. “The usual.” She repeats slowly.
I blink, as well.
“Oh, of course, Moël.” She flashes straight white teeth like she wasn’t staring brainlessly a second ago. “I’ll be right back.” Swinging her hips seductively, she disappears into the throng of people.
