Page 24 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
Atlas barked out a laugh but it was harsh, grating to his own ears. “As long as it’s not sex magic, I doubt it will matter. She could be able to spit fire or conjure pastries with a flick of her wrist, and she would still be considered a superior match.”
Veros chuckled before shaking his head.
“Do I hear laughter? That’s a rare sound within these walls.” Caedian tapped lightly on the open door, then walked into the study. He’d cleaned up after sparring with Atlas and looked fresh enough to go for another round. Not that the elite warrior ever needed down time. “What are we discussing?”
Atlas grunted, finishing off his drink. “My future wife.”
Then he poured two more glasses of thebovgkawhiskey. One for himself and one for Caedian.
“Yes.” Veros nodded in Atlas’s direction. “And apparently she’ll be able to conjure that raspberry chocolate cake you’re so fond of.”
Caedian’s face remained blank as he dropped onto the seat next to Atlas. He turned to face him. “Did you say wife?”
Atlas arched a brow. “You haven’t heard?”
“Oh, I have.” He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck, shifting uncomfortably. “I didn’t realize you’d found her already.”
“I didn’t.” Atlas took a final inhale from his stig, then tossed it into the hearth. The flames turned a deep violet from the skullcap, then returned to their normal fiery hue.
Veros smirked. “We’re simply going over some of the necessary qualifications.”
“I see.” Caedian swirled his glass, thoughtful. “And raspberry chocolate cake is a qualifier?”
“Might as well be,” Atlas muttered.
Caedian leaned forward, resting both of his elbows upon his knees. His gray gaze landed on Atlas. “How are you going to find this mystery female?”
“My father seems to think I should host a ball,” Atlas scoffed. The mere idea of being forced to dress in court regalia while being fawned over like he was nothing more than a walking sex toy was enough to make the alcohol warming his insides sour. “Because what better way to find my future bride than by choosing her from an overabundance of females all vying for my attention?”
To anyone else’s ears, his complaints might sound vain. But Veros and Caedian knew him, they knew he was more than the reputation he’d built for himself. More than the prince of pleasure.
“I wonder why the kralv is so intent on you throwing a ball.” Veros set his empty glass on the table, and a line of concern creased his forehead. “Seems a bit coincidental, if you ask me.”
“Yeah,” Caedian agreed, roughing a hand over his face. “Because it’s probably serving as a distraction.”
Atlas’s gaze slid to the door. He listened for any passing servants, any hint that the words they spoke would find their way back to the kralv.
Understanding his intent, Veros stood and quietly closed the door, then returned to his seat.
“Has it happened again?” Atlas asked, keeping his voice low.
Caedian sat back, nodding. “I’m afraid so, Your Highness.”
“Who was it this time?”
“Khiran Vespertine.”
Fuck.
Khiran belonged to the Morvayne, a clan of ancient and exorbitantly wealthy vampires known for their lavish parties in the underground of their estate. Not only that, but they produced and marketed a concoction that allowed anyone to be bitten without fully turning. Atlas had attended quite a few of their sexually charged festivities, had been given a personal tour of their extensive wine cellar, and was on a first name basis with Valaina, the clan’s leader. In fact, she’d almost convinced him to fuck her until her mate threatened to cut off his cock.
Would’ve been nice if she mentioned she was taken at the time.
“They won’t let this disappearance slide.” Atlas blew out a breath, shaking his head. Valaina would take the head of anyone who stood in her way.
“No,” Caedian agreed. “They won’t.”
Already seven immortals had gone missing. Khiran made eight. Not that any life was insignificant, but those who vanished so far had seemingly gone unnoticed by the general public. Khiran, however…
