April
I don't hear anything. Nothing seems amiss. But Nik is tense, on high alert, and that is enough to put me on edge as well.
We are crammed in the narrow stairwell leading up to the penthouse, my body pressed tightly against his. His arm has snaked its way around my waist and holds me steady.
"Nik?" I whisper, feeling like I shouldn't even dare to breathe.
"We're leaving, now," he states and I feel him prepare to run. But then a shadow looms at the bottom of the staircase. An imposing man I haven't seen before.
Nik turns, putting himself in between me and the newcomer.
"He's waiting for you in the penthouse," the newcomer says, voice deep. "You best go up."
Nik is as tense as possible in front of me, but when he speaks there isn't even the slightest hint of strain in his voice. "Of course. I'm glad he's here."
Who? Who the hell are they talking about?
Nik turns and takes my arm. "Come on." He tugs me up the staircase, the newcomer following close behind.
We enter the penthouse and I immediately see a man lounging back on the couch, a glass of red wine in his hand. At least, I think it's wine...
I have seen this man before, at the charity ball all those nights ago.
"Sebastien," Nik greets. "I'm glad you made yourself at home."
From the kitchen, a woman steps out and she and the man who cornered us on the staircase guard the hallway. Blocking any attempts to escape.
We're trapped.
I look up at Nik, praying that he's got some clever way to get us out of here, but he is focused entirely on Sebastien.
"You and I have had our differences over the years, Nikolai," Sebastien says. He has a French accent and wears a three piece suit, his midnight hair gelled back. "You've always thought you were better than me."
"That's not true," Nik replies. "I've always known I was better than you."
Sebastien grins, but it is strained. "Despite the fact that I'm older."
Nik shrugs, sliding his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "Older is overrated."
"Well, I might have to agree with you there. The Council of Elders seems to have lost its way," Sebastien says. "All this talk of peace with the werewolves. Tell me you're not buying into it, Nik."
"You've always hated the wolves. Who was it they killed again?"
Sebastien's face goes steely. "My Kindred, in the fourteenth century. She wasn't even twenty-five and they tore her apart, left her body scattered."
Nik makes a slightly disinterested sound. I blanch at the description. That's horrific.
"Peace with the werewolves is futile. They're animals and inferior beings and we both know it. And she..." Sebastien points straight at me, "is a symbol of this supposed peace."
"She's just a human, Sebastien. Nothing more."
"She's Kindred and a mate. We both know that isn't nothing."
"It's a coincidence."
Sebastien chuckles, shaking his head. "Come on, Nik. You've been alive too long to still believe in coincidences."
Nik says nothing to this, so Sebastien takes another long sip of his drink.
"When was the last time you stayed here?" He asks conversationally, like we're all old friends.
"A few years ago, during the pandemic," Nik replies.
"God, human blood tasted terrible during that didn't it?" Sebastien jokes. "It was like drinking metal."
Nik smirks. "It wasn't half as bad as during the Plague years. That was torture. I considered switching to animal blood just so I could avoid the human stench."
My lips set in a hard line. Is this a front he is putting up or is this the real him? I can never tell.
"Here," Sebastien nudges forward an open wine bottle on the glass coffee table in front of him. It doesn't have a label. "Have a taste. She's from Spain, the daughter of a famous runway model. She's exquisite."
"What?" My gasp is like a clap of thunder in the otherwise quiet penthouse.
Nik shoots me a look that tells me to shut the hell up.
Sebastien's beady eyes pin onto me. "Better yet, why would we drink from a bottle when we have this gorgeous, untapped Kindred right here? We both know Kindred blood will always be superior to other humans."
Nik wears his cool, smug facade well, but now I see a crack in it. His mouth tightens, his hands curling into fists. "I've said this before, Sebastien, and I'll say it again: she's mine."
I feel the two vampires behind me shift impatiently and fear invades my every breath.
Sebastien hums, leaning back once again. "Well, if she's yours," he says, "then feed from her."
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. "What? No."
"Be quiet," he tells me flippantly, taking another sip from his wine glass. "Go on, Nik."
Nik turns his head to look at the vampires blocking the exit and then his eyes drop to me.
"Don't," I breathe, taking a step back. But I have nowhere to go, nowhere to run.
"What do you want, Sebastien?" Nik asks, some of the fake friendliness from before slipping away.
Sebastien slams down the wine glass on the table, hard enough that a fissure runs up the side of the cup's stem. "I want you to feed on her. And I'm wondering why she isn't already claimed. Since when do you ask for an invitation, Nikolai? The great Red Conqueror I remember took what he wanted and he certainly never asked for permission. What happened to that man?"
The Red Conqueror? What on earth is he talking about? All of this is a reminder that there is so much about Nik that I don't know. Beside me, he is as still and stiff as a statue. He doesn't move an inch—his chest doesn't rise with breath, his eyes don't blink. He looks more undead right now than he ever has.
"Go on," Sebastien encourages. "Or I'll take her for myself."
There is a tense moment of nothing. And then Nik turns toward me.
I shake my head, holding my hands up. "Nik, please." I tremble with terror.
"He's right," Nik says, his voice devoid of any warmth, any affection that it once held. "I'm done waiting."
"Don't do this," I beg him. In an instant, he is right in front of me, his hands clamping on my sides to hold me in place. I try to pull away, but he's too strong. His left arm snakes all the way around me and he pulls me flush against him. "Nik, stop!" I shove at his chest uselessly.
With his right hand, he lifts my hair away from my neck, brushing it back. Then he stops. And pain bleeds into his stormy eyes...At least, I think it does. He is trying to silently tell me something, but I don't know what. I can never read him properly. He is, as he always has been, a mystery to me.
His head dips down, our cheeks brushing together.
"Don't struggle," he tells me quietly. "It'll only make it worse."
"Nik," I choke as his lips touch the side of my neck.
A gentle kiss, almost like an apology.
His grip on me becomes utterly unyielding, till I am completely immobile against his hard body. And then his fangs sink into my skin.
Pain blooms, a shout leaves my mouth, but there is pleasure buried in there too. It seeps into my bones, an ache that ricochets through me with teeth-chattering intensity.
I can feel my blood leaving my body as he drinks in long draughts. The penetration of his fangs in me and the lapping of his tongue feels so intimate and sensual.
Desire curls low in my stomach, my knees giving out from beneath me. He holds me tightly enough that it doesn't matter.
After I don't know how long, he detaches. I am weak and pliant in his grip. He raises a finger and smears some of my blood across my neck, then places me back on my feet, holding me until I feel steady enough to stand.
Still, when he lets go and steps back, I sway dangerously. My head is spinning from blood loss.
I look over at Sebastien who has stood up from the couch and is staring at my neck with hunger in his eyes. I sense the two vampires behind me shifting closer as well.
Sebastien steps around the glass table, breathing heavily. Distracted.
And that's when Nik attacks.
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