Page 27 of The Serpent's Bride
She wanted him.
That much was painfully clear.
Don’t worry. He only sees you as a piece of meat. Interchangeable with all the others. You’re nothing special to him.
She repeated that to herself as a mantra as she drifted to sleep.
Nadi decided that “sexy but understated” was going to be her vibe for the evening. It was easier said than done, considering the clothing options that Raziel provided for her were…less than modest.
A red lace blouse that cut down past her cleavage and a pair of too-tight black pants that draped over boots were what she wound up choosing. For a few reasons—one, the pants wereincrediblyhard to get on, so hopefully anybody who slipped drugs into her drinks would find themincrediblyhard to get off. Pants were a working woman’s clothes—she expected everyone else would be wearing dresses, but she couldn’t care less.
Two, she could slip her hairpins into her boots. Never go into an unknown situation with known enemies unarmed.
Three, she was wearing Raziel’s colors—a reminder to all those at the party exactly who she “belonged” to, as sickening as it was.
And four, she rather liked how she looked in blood red. It was a good reminder of why she was there.
She was going to murder them all.
Every. Last. One.
Taking a breath, she adjusted her hair in the mirror one final time before heading out of her room for the first time that evening. She’d heard the commotion in the house and knew that she was arriving “fashionably late” to her own party.
But seeing as nobody had come to fuckingfetchher, it seemed fair.
The thump of the live jazz music reverberated through the floors as she headed down the hallway and then the stairs to where the rabble was the loudest. About thirty or forty people had come to attend—a mix of vampires and humans.
The grand dining room had been decorated and rearranged for a party, the brass inlay in the walls polished, and no elegance was spared. An ice sculpture of a large, bat-winged creature glinted in the amber light of the electric fixtures where it stood surrounded by food and alcohol. Everyone was dressed to the nines, sequins and jewels sparkling like the ice as they moved.
And there was Lana—draped over a man next to her that Nadi recognized as Azazel. A third cousin to the family, and, according to Nadi’s research, Lana’s favorite…pet, for lack of a better word.
He was slim and almost painfully beautiful—with sharp features and bright orange eyes that seemed to catch the light like that of a wolf in the darkness. When he laughed, revealing his fangs, it only made the comparison more apt.
He was dressed in a pair of skin-tight pants, a thin white shirt that was mostly unbuttoned, revealing his various tattoos, and what could be mistaken for ritualistic scars.
Cruelty ran in the family.
Nadi walked up to them, smiling shyly, and lifted her hand in a slight wave. “Hey, Lana.”
“Thereyou are!” Lana leapt from the sofa to throw her arms around Nadi in a hug. “I was wondering if my brother had tied you to his bed to make sure you couldn’t attend. Everyone! Meet Monica—our soon-to-be sister-in-law!”
The group that had been sitting around Lana—all business partners of the family—half-heartedly greeted her. It was clear they weren’t interested in her in the slightest, save for the lingering stares at her…assets.
Making small talk with a bunch of vampiric mobsters wasn’t high on her list of shit to do that evening, anyway.
“You weren’t kidding.” Azazel smiled at her, crimson-painted lips pulling into a faint, sardonic curl. “The bastard got lucky with this one.”
“Let me get you a drink. What would you like?” Lana was already heading toward the bar. “Talk fast or I choose for you!”
“Uh—old fashioned,” Nadi called after her. “And no drugs.”
“Pah! No fun.” Lana huffed in fake indignance. “Butfine.Since you’re thebride.”
“Not a fan?” Azazel asked as he scooted over on the sofa and patted the spot next to him.
There wasn’t a point in pretending it wasn’t inevitable. Nadi sat down next to him, smiling cheerfully and shrugging. “The chemical stuff isn’t for me. I prefer natural.”
“I’m sure Lana brought everything.” He chuckled and draped his arms over the back of the sofa—right behind her. When he started to curl a strand of her hair around her finger, she couldn’t help but go a little tense. “Afraid? Of little old me? You’re sweet.”
