by Rebecca Main
Jakob could only stare. He cast his gaze upon every inch of their new home, in awe of its fine detail. Wordlessly, he stepped further inside. “How did they accomplish such a feat?”
“The Dark Court has its ways,” Max said candidly, coming to stand by Jakob’s side. “They prepared accordingly for the eventuality of our victory.”
“They did this all in a fortnight?”
"There resources are vast when combined," Max said with a small smirk. He then pulled from his pocket a small box and pressed it into Jakob’s hand. The younger stared dumbfounded. “There is one last lesson for you to learn, my son. Family first. Always."
Jakob held back tears, a thick knot lodged in his throat. Home. A family. His eyes slipped closed as something feverishly hot ran down his cheeks.
The vampyré thought he had it all, at last, but the mark upon his arm would prove otherwise.
Chapter 9
Present
Tinctures from Jax that taste of bitter berries heal my injuries in record time. But so does the arrival of the full moon the following night. Even from far below the Earth's surface, its appearance relieves me of my lycan curse. When I awaken, I transform.
My room is too small to prowl around, but it’s the only place I feel comfortable in my wolf's body. I long for the forest and its fresh air instead of this prison cell. I long to run with my pack.
Lord, how I long.
My mournful cry reverberates through the room. The aching song stops only when I catch sight of my reflection in the standing mirror at the corner of my bedroom. Golden eyes stare back at me amidst a coat as dark as night, and they are filled with sadness.
Until this moment, true loneliness has yet to plague my plight. I have done so well keeping my head above the water. Yet the sight of the lone wolf staring back at me shatters the illusion.
A restless energy settles in my stomach like a stone, forcing me to the ground. I lay my head across my paws, a desperate whine creeping out from my canine throat. I spend the remainder of my evening in silent contemplation of my uncertain fate.
What if they never find me?
What if I can’t get back to my pack?
What if I die here?
What if the soulmark drives us mad? Or worse, we succumb to its unearthly pull?
I transform back to my human form sooner than intended, my thoughts a raging storm inside my mind. I do not wish to taint the sacred experience of shifting into my wolf form with such morose musings. And yet, I fear it already has.
++
Dinner is an unusual affair. The idle chitchat rounding the table an altogether unfamiliar experience, when I am used to silence reigning over our meals. My eyes, still a brazen gold, watch the table’s occupants. A smirk tilts my lips every now and then as I let my gaze linger and watch them squirm.
“I had no idea a wolf’s howl could be so penetrating,” Jax comments.
I slant him a knowing look across the table, our moments of tentative comradery not yet enough to warrant tender feelings toward the sorcerer.
“Really?” I flutter my eyelashes, goaded far too easily into sarcasm. “I had no idea.”
His eyes narrow. “You’ll be pleased to know you struck fear into a fair number of supernaturals hearts.”
“You know I am."
Sebastian snorts behind his glass of blut wein, and I catch his eyes roll toward the heavens. His curly brown hair is slicked back within an inch of his life. I receive a nudge and an impish grin from Ruby who prepares to add her own commentary, when Vrana sets his own glass down with a distinct crystal thunk.
“Enough of this mindless chatter,” he says, his voice laden with authority. “I want to hear an update on everyone's progress. Jax, how are you faring with the Habsburgs?”
The sorcerer rocks onto the back legs of his chair, toying with his steak knife between deft hands. “I meet with Rudolf and his valet tomorrow to discuss the stars.” He waves the knife in a casual circle as the faintest of smiles grow on his lips—a smile that is without an ounce of kindness. “I’ll examine his ring then.”
“And is he the last?”
“No, Sisi is in one of her bouts of melancholy. Maria Christina is the only one she’ll allow near, and she’s refusing to drink from the vein again.”
“I heard the new sorceress, Valdora, is treating her?” Ruby asks, sipping her blut wein. "You've met with her, have you not? I swore not long ago I saw you with her. If I recall correctly, she has the loveliest hair! It's quite long and pale... with red tips on their end. Is that right, Jax?"
Color infuses the length of Jax’s neck. “Indeed, she is—”
“Which is why he can’t get near Sisi,” Nova interrupts with a vicious smirk. “He’s not on friendly terms with Valdora anymore, are you, Jax? I believe it’s Courtney now, or is it Genevieve?”
Ruby snickers, and even Sebastian spares a hint of a smile at Jax’s obvious discomfort.
“Making the rounds with the nonvampyrés is an interesting way of finding the rings,” Nova says.
“Every move I make serves its purpose," Jax counters quickly, a pleased expression leisurely making its way over his face. "Jakob knows this. Besides, I know better than to get in bed with your kind, Nova. One bite and everyone vampyré would soon be clambering for me.”
“Enough,” Vrana declares as Ruby falls to giggles. “Finish with the Habsburgs. I want this ordeal sorted before the meeting of the Celestial Court.”
My head whips to the side, eyes wide as they stare at Vrana. “The Celestial Court? They're meeting? Why?”
“Don’t get any ideas in that pretty little head of yours,” Vrana answers smoothly. “You won’t be attending, and as such, will be unable to speak with the North American lycan representatives, the Blancs.”
I sink into my seat, striving for nonchalance while inside I seethe and hurt. Another opportunity to make contact with my pack taken away from me before I can make use of it.
Sebastian sets down his glass and politely clears his throat. “Unfortunately, Jakob, she may be required to attend. All members of the Royal and Greater Households must attend. Or so I've heard.”
Vrana says nothing in return, though his glower says it all. When his gaze shifts to me, I avoid it, even though the weight of it is like some heated caress. I take a shallow breath, the soulmark along my wrist prickling with his discontent.
“Jax, when will my necklace be restored?” I ask.
Hazel eyes cross to Vrana’s silvery-blue ones, a trace of a question lingering along his brow. “Soon, I should think. Of course, finishing the third set of spectacles and Jakob's decoy rings is my first priority,” he responds coolly. Liar, the wolf whispers in my mind. Jax's heart might keep its natural cadence, but his body gives other “tells” to his dishonesty—the increasing speed of the knife twirling between his fingers, the bitter note to his scent, and the way his gaze flicks briefly to his left.
“It isn’t a priority,” Vrana confirms. “And don’t plan on making it one, Jax. Your time is better spent achieving our end goal than worrying about this link between Irina and me. Is that understood?”
I gape at Vrana, my head whipping to the side so quickly I fear whiplash. “You can’t be—” Serious.
But he is. The warning in his glacial eyes is unmistakable, and my protest falls painfully short. Retribution would be delivered with a merciless hand should I say a word in rebuke, and a flush of anger skirts over my skin. Staring once more straight ahead, I silently fume, registering little of the conversation that follows with Jax.
“Ruby, what is your progress with the Gunwyns?”
“Well! But I, for one, am glad that hulking beast, William, does not wear one of his family's rings. I would hate to try and pry that off his finger.” She gives an exaggerated shiver. “Though, it would be terribly exciting to tangle with him. Just think of all the blood.”
“Never mind the fact that he would crush you,” Nova dr
awls. I glance at Ruby to see her reaction and hold back a grin. Then turn my attention back to the Inuit vampyré.
The best part of watching the two women spar is to see Nova lose her cool.
“Is that concern I hear in your voice?” Ruby purrs, her sights set on Nova.
The young vampyré freezes momentarily. “No.”
Ruby releases another purr and bats her eyelashes. “I promise to let you tend my wounds when I’ve finished with him. You can even lick his blood off my skin.” Ruby’s drops to a husky and far too seductive voice for someone who looks barely eighteen.
Nova visibly swallows and takes her time composing herself. “I’m on a rather strict diet,” she says.
“Mmm.” Ruby nods in faux understanding, her voice still pitched low. “I’m sure an exception can be made, can’t it, Jakob?”
The question is rhetorical, but still, the young vampyré casts a helpless look Vrana’s way. He does nothing, and a flush creeps up Nova’s throat.
“No, thanks.”
She should not have backed down, I think. The wolf agrees. Sensing her weakening, Ruby leans across the table. “We can take him together if you like? Gut him and bath in his blood.” I choke on my wine, incurring a number of amused stares and one of relief from Nova. “Something I said?”
This time Ruby’s molten almond eyes turn my way. I give a hoarse laugh. “A bit much, don’t you think?”
“Hardly, Irina.” Ruby settles back in her seat and runs her fingertips up my arm to draw my hair on end. “I see we still have some work to do on your personal skills,” she notes. I tug my arm out of her reach.
“I’m going for a more caustic approach,” I inform her. “Except, of course, when on Sebastian’s arm. In which case, I plan to be moderately affable to his attention.”
Ruby gives an approving nod, the feathers in her hairpiece bobbing gently with the motion.
“If you’re quite finished,” Vrana says, voice pitched to a dangerous lilt. “I believe we were discussing the matter of our family’s redemption.”
Sebastian bows his head, his chestnut curls falling waywardly into his mocha eyes. “Of course," Sebastian says, all business. "As Ruby said, she has fared well with the Gunwyns. They may be crossed off our list. None of their rings possessed our family's magical sigil. As for the matter of the Krovopuskovs, we’ve only managed to inspect one of their rings. Kazimir and Kolya wear the other two, and they’re not pleased with the interest we have shown in their household.”
Vrana wears a pensive frown, then stands to retrieve more blut wein. I scrunch my nose at the opening of a new decanter, the sour smell offensive to my oversensitive senses.
“The Krovopuskovs have always been bullheaded. They despise and relish in the ways of the Dark Court… a set of closeted bourgeoises. The entire lot of them.”
Nova clears her throat. “I can do it. I've already finished with the Pulzin Household.”
We all stare at Nova in wonderment, but it is Ruby who breaks our silence. “All of them? You’ve inspected all of them? How?”
“It’s different in the Pits. I might not be able to win a ring, but sometimes I can wear one for a brief amount of time as my prize for winning,” she gives a short shrug. “Besides, I don’t try and hide that I want a ring. My strategy is mainly talking a bunch of shit about Jakob and how I get no respect from the family. They like the drama of it all, but then I have to listen to the same speech over and over again about how respect is earned. Same bullshit, different people; it works every time.”
Silence again, though something like amusement sifts through me.
“I do hope you haven’t been dragging my name through the mud too much,” Vrana says.
He walks around the table and pours more blut wein into Ruby and Sebastian’s glasses.
Jax cocks a brow at me and lets his gaze linger on the bottle of Nebbiolo nearby. After I give him a short nod, I pass him my wine glass.
Nova spares Vrana a mean smile. “Just enough.”
Wine glass restored to a healthy amount, I bring it to my nose and inhale its bouquet to mask the scent of blood in the air. It’s wonderfully earthy, with brooding hints of leather and rose in its depths.
Vrana takes his seat. “Very well. You may take over the Krovopuskovs. Ruby, begin on the Mubarks. Tread carefully. Omar has made his interest quite clear in our family, and I do not want that interest piqued.” Ruby nods. “I've spent my time inspecting the Delacroixs stock of rings, but to no avail. It may be our rings are hidden away, but nevertheless, we shall continue to cross out all avenues. Is that understood?"
Our acknowledgments are given in murmured affirmations and bowed heads.
“Good," Vrana says. "Everyone keeps to their tasks. As for our pair of lovebirds, they shall make their debut in the Cellar."
++
A single gold-caged elevator is the only entrance and exit allotted to the Cellar. The likes of which is operated by an old man with haunting, hollow eyes and parchment paper skin. I stare past him and down into the array of supernaturals who occupy the large space. The walls alternate between honeycomb shelves filled with wine bottles and monstrous fireplaces like our apartment suites with tall, wide mouths.
A delicate haze seems to encompass the circular room. Scents of amber and jasmine swirl from incense pots, mingling with the coppery scent of blood and aromatic wine. But there’s something else to the air. Like some low electric current tracing patterns across my skin and making my nose twitch. Magic.
Supernaturals fan around half moon tables and stack themselves in leather chairs. One long bar dominates the back wall, and I immediately take notice of its three patrons.
Claire, with her snow-white hair, sits on a barstool. Her shoulders hunched forward, and she has a lonely look to her eyes. She’s dressed far nicer than when I last saw her, donned in an evergreen jumpsuit with a shining gold chain belt. Even her hair holds volume and a lovely sheen to it. Yet, despite the upgrade to her wardrobe and styling, it cannot hide her discomfort among the others.
At the other end of the bar sit two women. Their backs are held pin straight, and their dark, red hair is curled in the same old Hollywood fashion. The Roux sisters. Tonight they wear different outfits, an aid to any who typically have trouble telling the two apart.
As if aware of my regard, one turns to spare a look at our entrance. The beauty mark on the cheek clues me in on which sister I stare at—Briar. She settles her striking gaze upon Sebastian, a fact we both take note of. I steal a peek at Sebastian through my thick, dark lashes and catch the way his Adam’s apple bobs under Briar’s inspection. His shoulders roll back, and though he feigns disinterest, I see clearly the way his gaze keeps flicking back to her.
“You know,” I murmur as we step out of the elevator, our leisurely gate made in the direction of the bar, “it’s rude to stare at other women when the one you’re with is on your arm.” I give a light squeeze to Sebastian’s bicep and steer us toward an unoccupied armchair.
Sebastian sits, then helps me settle along the thick armrest. The leather gives a slight groan to our combined weight, but our proximity is paramount to our scheme.
“I’m not,” he replies.
I arch a brow, unimpressed. “Well, she keeps stealing glances at you. Perhaps I should have a chat with her?”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” he says. I follow his gaze to the group of rowdy patrons crowded around a rectangular table.
“Who are they?”
“Shifters, can't you tell? They often accessorize with pieces of jewelry as a show of their worth, so to speak.”
“I’m not quite sure I follow,” I speak the words softly as I study the group.
A chorus of laughter bursts from their rankings, a strawberry blonde with startling blue eyes emerging from the middle. She settles next to a lanky man, her arm looping around his back as she throws her head back in laughter.
“Often shift
ers prefer to be paid for their services in enchanted items or magical objects. The households here in the Dark Court are privy to an assortment of enchanted and spelled jewelry, thus making it a worthwhile exchange.”
“What kind of services?” I ask.
Sebastian settles a hand on my leg, brushing aside the silky material to press his cold hand against the warm skin of my thigh. I fuss with the clasp of my large cuff bracelet to mask my slight unease. “It depends on the animal they shift into. Some are better suited for finding things or tracking down people. While others are good for hunting down information. Of course, it’s always nice to have the larger shifters on retainer as well, purely for their strength.”
The blonde still has my attention. She prowls her group, peeking her head in between their bodies to see whatever is happening. There is a confidence about her that is appealing to watch, yet I can't help but notice her swagger is tinged with something predatory.
“What’s she?” I ask after a minute.
My question catches Sebastian off guard, and he quickly turns his head to whom I speak of. A sigh slips from me as I spot who captured Sebastian's attention so quickly.
“Were you staring at her again?” I whisper, dipping my head close to his.
“I wasn't,” he responds sharply. But at this range, there is no hiding the very brief appearance of pink coloring the apples of his cheek. “I believe that is Miss Baum. She's an owl shifter.”
I roll my eyes at his misdirection. “Do you really—” A startled gasp curdles from my throat at a sudden phantom pain in my stomach. I slip sideways into Sebastian’s lap, cradling my middle as I struggle to catch my breath.
“What’s wrong?” Sebastian whispers in my ear as he pulls me closer.
“I don’t know,” I whisper back, hiding my face in the crook of his neck. I grit my teeth against an equally painful and abrupt sensation radiates down my back. “Something’s wrong. Magic, I think.” Another attack.