Page 8 of The Night Runs Red

“Expectations?” I echoed, biting back a laugh. When his face showed no hint of joking, I paused. “I’m not a child to be managed. I understand how to act and can do so without supervision.”

“Not within my society. And as you are my wife, you will need to be ready for anything.”

“Believe me, I understand the expectations of being married to a man like you. No matter what you are, you’re all the same.” The day's exhaustion wore heavy on my body, and I couldn’t hold back my frustrations.

His hand shot out and gripped my chin tightly, pulling me forward until we shared breaths. He looked down at me as though he could crush me beneath his feet, but some part of that excited me. It made me want to fight—to push back and see how far I could take this.

His gaze landed on my lips, lingering momentarily before his stormy eyes met mine. “I will say this once, and only once. Tread lightly with that wicked tongue, Calia. We have an eternity together; it would be a shame to lose it so quickly.” His cool fingertips had the opposite effect, lighting my skin on fire where he touched. When I said nothing, he continued. “This evening will be intimate—family only—but that does not mean they will not test you to find your weaknesses. If you think you have none, think again. The smallest tick could be your downfall.”

He spoke as if my ruin was already set in stone. Maybe it was. The prospect should have been more terrifying than it was, but I couldn’t focus on anything else when he held me in his grip. I wasn’t afraid of dying; I was afraid of not living. And I didn’t know if I wanted to live without knowing how it felt to be used by him just once.

“How would you like me to act, then? What would be suitable for you, husband?”

Rion’s jaw flexed, eyes burning with a ferocity I’d never seen. Quickly, he let me go, and I fell forward in his touch's absence. Heat bloomed across my cheeks, and when he saw it, a smug smirk stretched across his lips that only fueled the quiet rage burning inside me.

“Oh, love,” he muttered, tapping on the glass. The door immediately opened, Hendrix pulling it wide and offering a hand for me to take. “There are many things that would suit me, but most would make a blush creep across your pretty face.”

Cool air brushed against my skin, and I closed my eyes against the emotions threatening to spill over. My nipples ached against the fabric of my stained wedding dress, especially as he stood tall before me and buttoned his suit jacket. A hard hand brushed against my arm, and I took it without question as we ascended the marble steps toward the imposing arched door. Thick lines of glimmering black metal ran down panes of frosted glass, illuminated by softly glowing light.

The doors swung open, revealing an expansive foyer. Above our heads, a matte black chandelier inlaid with sapphires flickered with warm lights, casting a glow down on worn hardwood floors. Cedar and vanilla filled my nostrils, a warm and inviting scent enveloping me in nostalgia. I couldn’t recall the familiarity, only that it grounded me.

“Hendrix will show you to your room. You’ll have one hour until dinner.” His eyes scanned my body, lingering along my collarbones and neck. “Clean yourself up,” he grumbled, leaving me alone, listening to his footsteps echoing down the hall.

CHAPTER SIX

Fifty-nine minutes later, after I’d spent most of it scrubbing blood from my skin, I found Jasper leaning against the wall outside my room. He smiled when he saw me, offering his elbow for me to take. Neither of us spoke as he escorted me through the manor and into the dining room. We were the last to arrive, Jasper silently guiding me to the seat next to Rion before taking his spot across the table.

My husband was at the head of the table, a large tumbler of whiskey sat in front of him. From the other side, my aunt and uncle eyed everyone with careful regard. They gave me a subtle smile as I took my seat, smoothing out the thin velvet dress laid out for me.

Quiet conversations carried on around me, but I paid them no mind. Brielle and I chatted, talking about anything but what happened today. Rion spoke to an older man with peppered hair. An angry purple scar ran across his neck, drawing attention away from the scowl that seemed permanently etched upon his face. Occasionally, my father glared at me from beside my aunt, but I refused to acknowledge him. He had no sway on my life after today.

Servers came and went, placing decadent meals before us while others refilled crystal goblets with a viscous red liquid. As everyone began to eat, Leonora cleared her throat, gripping her glass with a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you all for coming this evening.”

Her words were met with polite, half-hearted applause. No one here believed what she said, but if it made them feel better, who was I to judge? The man beside Rion smirked, raking his eyes over me as if I were a meal. “Well, we are all a part of this farce, are we not?” He held up his glass, in the light I saw it for what it was–thick, crimson blood.

Leonora's eyes sparkled as she laughed. “Come now, Renwick. This is not the time to discuss such matters.”

“If not now, when?” he countered, leaning forward on the table. The tension in the room drew tight as every person turned his way. His prominent eyebrows drew together as he sighed. “Is the point of this not to move forward for the better of our society? And does that not include seeing that our people are adequately cared for? We’ve been cast aside and treated like rabid animals for too long. We cannot even step out in the sun without dying.”

My father, unwilling to waste an opportunity to speak his mind, raised his wine to his lips. He chuckled before taking a drink. “I would think your midnight strolls are enough to keep your thirst abated, Renwick. The latest string of human disappearances was, after all, in your district, were they not?”

“Lucius,” my aunt warned, clasping Castor’s hand atop the table as she swiveled her head toward my father. Brielle did the same to me, finding my clammy hand and squeezing it below the table.

I knew that glint in my father’s eye, the one that swam with disdain and promised retribution. It didn’t help that he’d been guzzling bourbon all evening. Even from here, I could smell the way it lingered on his breath from across the room.

“And how many vampyres have your men murdered in the streets within the past month?” Renwick snarled, the grip on his temper snapping. I’d never met someone with the same short fuse as my father, but given the fury radiating from his body, I feared he’d met his match. “Your ancestor is at fault for this union.” He said the word as though it tasted sour on his tongue. “He cursed us all because he refused to share power, and his actions have continued to damn our children. Your daughter will never be worthy of our family.” He threw a shaky finger in my direction, his lip curling as he let loose a vicious snarl.

I felt every ounce of his hatred, and what surprised me the most was how I felt my own rising inside my chest. I wanted to tear his hand from his body and watch as he screamed. I’d never felt anything like it before, and even the thought made me uneasy. —

“Our ancestors? We are not the ones who—”

“Quiet!” Rion’s voice boomed across the table. The authority in his tone had me clasping my lips together even though I’d barely said a word all evening. All thoughts eddied away from my mind until I felt empty, the rage floating away like dandelion seeds in the wind. He stood, dark eyes traveling along the length of the room. Every person in attendance seemed to react, shrinking away from his stormy gaze. “The union between Calia and I is done. We are married, and there is no way around it.”

“You’re damn right. There is no going back,” my father grumbled. “Contracts have been signed, and she has been delivered.”

I closed my eyes as Renwick laughed. “Is that why you were willing to let her go without much thought? Because the bitch holds such little value to you?”

My uncle slammed his fist down on the table, causing the wood to quake. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

---