Page 22 of Song of Night

“Lead the way,” I say to him with a tight smile.

Vyrin’s grin only widens, and he moves off through the crowd. I look down at Zara and nod ever so slightly, hoping I can portray some of what I’m thinking in that small gesture. She walks at my side as we weave through the partygoers, following the fae king to whatever devilry he has planned next.

As we travel back through the room, I notice that things are devolving rather quickly. It seems just minutes ago we were dancing, and people were eating and drinking and talking. Now there are people clustered together in various states of undress. I see a woman pressed up against a marble column, a man on his knees before her, face buried between her legs as another woman kisses her neck and sucks on her earlobe. Across the room a woman is bent over one of the food tables, her upper body crushing a tray of red fruit as a man with stag horns thrusts into her from behind. In the swan fountain, a half dozen people writhe in the pool of sparkling wine, their moans and the sound of skin slapping skin cutting the air.

Zara’s body is tight as a bowstring as we pass through the crowd. Vyrin guides us into a far corner of the room, back behind the elaborate staircase we’d come down. It seems hours ago at this point, though it can’t possibly have been that long. Can it?

In the alcove beneath the stairs the lighting is dim, punctuated by lanterns which hang on hooks around the perimeter. There are several velvet settees, and a dozen people are already crowded on them, spilling over onto cushions and fur rugs on the floor. The smell of blood hits me like a hammer, and a wave of hunger moves through me. Without meaning to, my grip tightens on Zara.

“Please, join your kind, relax and enjoy,” Vyrin says, gesturing for us to join the others.

There’s a small spot at the end of one of the armless settees, so I lead us over to it. Zara’s eyes meet mine questioningly as I sit down. It’s not big enough for both of us, so I pull her down into my lap. I wish I could talk to her in private. Explain that if we play Vyrin’s game a bit longer, we may get out of this evening unscathed.

But I can’t say what I want to say out loud. Luckily, I don’t have to. Zara must understand, because she just looks at me, and then slowly turns her head to one side so I have access to her neck. A growl rumbles through my chest unbidden. I don’t want to feed on her in front of all these people, let alone Vyrin. But I know I have to. Not only to keep Vyrin at bay, but because my hunger is leaving me little choice.

I want Zara so deeply it hurts.

My left hand slides into her hair, fisting the silky strands at the back of her head, and my right wraps around her waist. When I press my lips to the soft skin of her neck, she lets out a little sigh, barely audible. I can feel Vyrin’s gaze, heavy on us both, a leering voyeur as my teeth slide out. But I can’t keep my inner beast in check any longer.

When I bite Zara, she shudders against me. I can tell she’s trying to hold it in, and by the muffled sound she makes, it’s clear she’s biting her own lip to keep from crying out. For some reason this drives me even more wild. We couldn’t be in more danger than right now, in this palace, with this wicked and twisted king watching our every move, but all I want to do is throw Zara down on the fur rug at my feet and enter her in every possible way.

She is more dangerous than all the fae combined.

Why does she hold this power over me?

Her blood rushes into my mouth, intoxicating as always. Where my arm wraps across the front of her body, I can feel one of her breasts, and how her nipple hardens against me. I let out another growl, and this time she can’t suppress the moan that ripples up from her throat. Everything else falls away, and Zara consumes my existence. My reality is her skin, her hair, her essence. The sound of her breathing and the smell of her body reacting to mine.

When she suddenly shrieks and jerks back, I pull away from her neck, my senses shifting from pleasure to danger in an instant.

The man sitting next to us on the settee has his teeth embedded in Zara’s wrist, drinking from her. We’d been so wrapped up in each other that I hadn’t even sensed him turning around. Rage roars through me, and I shove the man off of Zara so hard that he tumbles onto the floor. Standing, I encircle her with both arms, my eyes promising death to any who approach us.

Laughter cuts through the red haze of my fury. Vyrin makes a placating gesture. “Calm down, Asher. We all share here in the blood den.”

“I. Do not. Share.” Each of my words cuts like an axe.

Zara is bleeding freely from her wrist, and the expression she levels on the man who bit her is enough to send him scurrying from the room.

“I think your little blood servant can take care of herself,” Vyrin says jovially. “Sit back down. Enjoy the festivities.”

“We had an arduous journey today,” I growl. “I trust our gracious host will show us to our room now.”

Vyrin pauses for several heavy heartbeats, his jade eyes burning into mine, and then he inclines his head. “Of course. You are my honored guests.”

Lord Kell appears abruptly at the edge of the room, as if he’d been following us all along. Which he probably had. He makes a small gesture, expression impassive, and we follow him back up the stairs. As we walk, I pull off my leather jacket and wrap it around Zara’s arm, cradling it against her body with one hand as my other wraps protectively around her shoulder.

We travel to the floor above us, where Lord Kell opens a door onto a large room with a balcony overlooking the sea. “These are your quarters for the night. There’s a servant stationed at the end of the hall should you require anything.” He gives us one last dismissive look, then strides back down the hall.

As soon as he’s gone, I shut the door behind us and bolt it. Not that it will do much good if Vyrin decides to break it down later. I turn to Zara, shaking with fury as my pent-up emotions rise to the surface. “Are you okay?”

She nods, lips drawn tight, jaw clenched. “I’m fine. It surprised me is all.”

I place my hands on the outsides of her biceps. “I will kill every single one of them. I promise you.”

Zara cocks her head to the side slightly. “As long as you leave some for me.”

The look on her face is fierce and deadly, a goddess of carnage and wrath. I realize my hands are still gripping her bare arms. It’s an intimate touch, something I shouldn’t really be doing since she’s not mine anymore. And I’d forgotten for a short time that she never really was.

I spin and begin to pace the room, a storm of emotions brewing inside me. It’s luxurious, like the ballroom below. I’m surprised they haven’t housed us in the more spartan side of the castle. The floors are pale marble, a seafoam green, and the walls are painted with murals of seaside villages and ships riding waves, beset by sirens and kraken. The crown moldings are painted a pale gold, and the ceiling is set with mirrors of various sizes and shapes, circles and seashells and waves.

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