Page 9 of The Night Runs Red

“Oh, have I struck a nerve, Castor?” Renwick asked, a disgusting smirk stretching across his lips.

Around and around, the insults were tossed as if I wasn’t sitting at the table. Heat bloomed in my cheeks, and I wished the room would swallow me whole. Rion remained quiet throughout the exchange, using the time to study my father with interest. He cocked his head to the side before resting it upon his hand. “That is your daughter—your blood. You dare dismiss her so casually?”

My father snorted. “It matters not to me. She’s no longer my concern. What you do with her is your problem,” he said, leaning back in his chair. He swept his napkin across his lips and threw it atop his plate.

Rion moved fast, sidling up behind me before I could blink. I hadn’t known he had placed a blade against my neck until the metal dug into my skin. My aunt cried out as my uncle wrapped an arm around her, eyes wide as they observed the dinner knife along the tender skin of my throat. Brielle clasped her hand over her mouth in horror.

“So, you would not care if I slit her throat before you and drained her of her life? If every vampyre here feasted upon her flesh? The way she smells…” I shivered as he slid my hair over my shoulder and ran his nose along my neck. “One taste would not be enough. We would devour her until there was nothing left, pull every last drop of blood from her body.”

Every word from his mouth should have repulsed me, and in some part, it did. But another, secret part wanted to know what it would be like to feel the scrape of his fangs as they broke my skin once more—if he was allowed unrestricted access to my blood. Would he truly kill me? Would it be drawn out or quick?

Did I care?

“Lucius, stop this madness,” my aunt begged before turning her pleading eyes toward Rion. “I–We care for Calia. Deeply. Regardless of what my useless brother says or does not, she is loved and cared for by us, and if you so much as harm—”

Castor reached for the gun I knew he always carried, concealed or not, and aimed it at my father’s head. “If I kill him here and now, will that temper the insult he’s laid upon you and your family?”

My father raised his hands, sweat dripping down his temple as he laughed nervously. There were reasons he hated Castor as much as he did, but he was also terrified of my uncle. Castor could kill him before he even batted an eye. “I believe this has been blown out of proportion, D’Arcy,” he said, nodding toward the gun Castor held in his hand. “Perhaps my words were too harsh—”

“Get out,” Rion growled, letting the knife clatter to the dinner plate before stepping away from my chair. I let out a shaky breath, steeling myself. It took every bit of effort I had not to run from the room and cower, but I knew better than to take off in a room full of predators.

Especially now that Rion had drawn attention to my scent.

Jasper stood from the table. His golden eyes seemed to glow in the dim lighting, goosebumps flaring along my skin. As he stepped toward my father, I noticed his hand on his pistol as he scanned the room.

He reached out to grab my father, but the coward nearly knocked his chair to the ground in his attempt to escape. He said nothing as he stormed past Jasper, nor did he spare me a last glance before he fled. Every soul was quiet, even Renwick, who suddenly seemed content to sip his refreshments with a furrowed brow.

Castor sat, but instead of placing the gun back where it had been tucked away, he placed it on the table within reach. No one said a word. Even amongst the vampyres, he was offered a level of respect many others weren’t. He kissed my aunt’s temple before leveling a stare at my new husband. “I don’t mean to tell you what to do in your own home,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “But if you ever threaten my niece’s life like that again, I’ll ensure you spend the rest of yours regretting the day you laid a hand upon her. Is that clear?”

Rion’s chair scraped against the floor as he pulled it out and sunk into the plush fabric. Reaching forward, he grabbed the glass of whiskey before him and quickly downed it before grimacing and meeting my uncle’s glare. “Crystal.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

The rest of the evening passed by without further theatrics. Though awkward at first, our dinner ended with laughter and jovial cheers once our bellies were filled to the brim with exquisite food. As the clock struck two, I realized just how long the night had been. My aunt and uncle wrapped their arms around me tightly before departing. Brielle followed, making me promise to meet her for coffee within the week to hear all about the sordid details of my wedding night before pressing my mother’s picture into my hand.

I’d have nothing to divulge, but I kept that detail to myself.

My stomach dropped as the door closed behind them. I already missed the warmth I felt in their presence as I stood in the middle of the cavernous foyer with my arm wrapped around myself, wondering where to go from here.

The click of shoes against tile had me spinning around, staring up into Rion’s unblinking gaze. “Do you need me to show you to your room?” he murmured.

I searched for any trace of coldness in his tone, but found none. Instead, I lingered along the deep frown line between his brow and the way his eyes were a polychromatic pit of greys and blacks. They were unlike anything I’d ever seen—a reminder of the old films my mother loved once upon a time.

It seemed that Rion rarely showed emotion. Everything he did was calculated—each action had an explicit purpose—and he didn’t waste time on anything that wouldn’t benefit or interest him.

“Calia?” he asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

I ducked my head, composing myself. “That would be great. I wasn’t paying attention earlier when Hendrix showed me.”

“And why is that?”

We slowly made our way up the curving staircase leading to the second story of his home. The beautiful, deep green walls reminded me of the forest outstretched along the isle. The color carried throughout the hallways, accented with black crown molding and the smallest glints of gold.

“Have you seen this place?” I asked, taking in the tall ceilings above us. “It’s breathtaking.”

Rion said nothing as we ambled along the corridor. Still, the occasional prick of awareness along my skin told me he was watching. We stopped near the bottom of a smaller staircase which wound up to the third floor. Or perhaps it led to the tall tower which proudly stood watch over the Odesza.

I’d never been fond of heights, but something about that tower intrigued me. I’d always admired the architecture when I was in Kallistos, wanting to know just how far I could see out over the land and to watch the subtle waves across the river as the wind blew.

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