by Emily Shore
I started to move away, but no doubt they were indulging my curiosity. They already knew I was there.
Less than a second later, they cornered me. “Hey there, little human,” declared Geoffrey while they both flared their nostrils and breathed in my scent.
Michael took a few curls of my hair and fingered it. I didn’t move. “Gotten quite attractive over the past year, hasn’t she?”
“Quite attractive,” Geoffrey agreed while approaching and adding the comment,
“I'd also say brave, considering her little demo tonight. But she’s always been like that, haven’t you, Reina?” Geoffrey dipped his head toward me.
I didn’t shrink back. I didn’t feel like shrinking back.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I thwarted them, staring them down with my Medusa glare. But instead of my mother’s stone-turning eyes, mine were more like purple fire.
Michael chuckled a bit. “No, why would you be? Because you’re one of us, right?” He pushed on my shoulder a little, and I felt the cold lash of his palm. Incensed, I could hardly do more than hiss before he toyed with the silver threads dripping from my capped sleeves.
“Still think you’re going to be queen over us, your ladyship?” Geoffrey leaned in so I had to press my back against the wall.
A single sweep of Michael’s finger across my throat. “I’d say she’s too used to us.
What do you think?”
Geoffrey nodded and bared his fangs. I didn’t flinch once. Not even when he opened his mouth to bite.
Chapter Five
Skip
“I'd advise you to step away from Miss. Caraway immediately.” Both vampires turned to face the new figure, who wasn’t done with his speech. “Allow me to rephrase that. Step away from Miss. Caraway and give her the courtesy of an apology.”
I couldn’t make out who the voice belonged to, but I didn’t have to. Not when both Geoffrey and Michael turned around and apologized.
“Now, take the blood bags and dump them over the terrace.” Once they’d finished spilling the blood onto the ground, Skip directed them, “You’ll forget about this and join the party.”
A withering sigh eased from my mouth as I clutched my bare arms and approached the vampire.
“Never would’ve imagined Stefan White would’ve come to my rescue.” The most powerful vampire at Le Couvènte High. The one all the high-ranking clans wanted.
“Skip, please,” he requested and stepped out of the shadows, folding his hands behind his back. That’s when he must have eyed the gooseflesh on my arms and removed his dinner jacket to drape it around me.
I glanced down at the jacket before remarking, “Gentlemanly, too. You’re just a regular
knight in shining armor tonight, aren’t you?”
Skip shrugged before turning around so he stood next to me, his shadow protecting me like a sentry tower thanks to his height. Hmm…I wagered around 6’5 or 6’6. Skip was the sort of vampire who shouldn’t speak to a human, considering his family predated ancient history, more noble than the Caraways; his parents were queen and king once, too. Even the gluttonous darkness couldn’t devour his decadent attractiveness with his hair falling down his chest―gold and silver as ice shimmering from sunlight.
I looked into his juniper eyes glittering with mirth before posing another question, “How do I know I’m not in more danger now?”
“You don’t. Now, do you?” Skip responded, voice bordering on teasing.
At least he was honest.
“Why did you come outside in the first place?”
“Silver blood auction doesn’t really interest me.” A smile tugged at my lips. “Nice jacket.” I tugged at the jacket’s edges, willing it around my frame closer. “Baron Pasmina?”
Skip chuckled. “Guanashina, actually. You know your fabrics.”
“Comes with the territory of having a fashionista brother.”
I inhaled the suit. Whatever horrendously expensive cologne graced his skin and clothes, I picked up on spice peppered by fresh hints of woodiness.
“Glad you approve. It cost about as much as my first car, but don’t worry.” Skip leaned in so his sweet breath dazzled the side of my face as he finished, “Feel free to sweat as much as you want.” A cheesy line, but it still made me blush.
I shouldn’t be alone with him. My blood scent was soaking the air as easily as a teabag in naked water. And I was frightfully aware that Skip, with his unbridled talent, could persuade me to do just about anything. It was shocking that Heath hadn’t already shown up.
I kept the conversation on Skip. “So, why aren’t you enjoying the silver blood fountain?”
Skip threaded his hands together and leaned over the terrace balcony to explain, “After my father passed, his own silver blood was expelled and bottled for my family. My mother gave it to me when I turned sixteen, and I plan to drink it with my future wife on our wedding day.”
“What future wife would that be?” I wondered, all innocent curiosity, while smoothing my hands along one of the balcony’s marble pillars. Okay, maybe a hint of flirting. I was only human.
“I’ll let you know when I find her.” He was serious not playful. I appreciated him not embarrassing me. “Your display inside was rather impressive. Out here as well.”
“Thank you for your help.” I turned to the side so I faced him.
Skip nodded. “My pleasure. You needed it even if you didn’t seem to. You looked like you were ready to bite one of them.”
“I just couldn’t make up my mind who.” I chuckled.
“I would’ve enjoyed seeing it, but I thought it better to intervene.”
And intervene he did. Everyone in Le Couvènte theorized Skip would become the next King like his father before him. His Queen would have to be someone quite exceptional. Not that I’d had more than a fleeting thought since a Queen chose her King.
I started to remove his jacket and motioned to the door. “I should go back inside.”
“Did you know there’s an old stone stairway that leads directly up to the roof under the towers?” Skip came off the wall.
“And something about this stairway fascinates you?”
“Compels me,” he corrected and touched my arm. Light and non-persuasive. “There’s a beautiful view of Le Couvènte at the top. Care to accompany me?” He extended his hand, white as a doll’s cheek, and for some reason, I didn’t hesitate. Whether it was his persuasion, I couldn’t tell, but I yearned to follow him.
It was only when we reached the stairway that I glanced back.
Skip squeezed my hand, reassuring me, “Your brothers are still in line for the silver fountain. If they look at the terrace, they will still see you standing there.”
I shook my head out, marveling at his ability. That he could persuade the mind to see what it wanted even from this distance. Skip urged me forward. Like a shadow holding onto its ghost, I followed him. Beautiful view indeed from this landing. Right under a pincushion of spires and towers that had yet to crumble. From the turreted ledges, I could almost imagine ghost horses shaking transparent manes along the hunting grounds to the east. To the west, vineyards ached of brambles and weeds from neglect while hundreds of faithful sentry Redwoods with branches like lush wings protected our city. In their midst was Le Couvènte glittering like stardust sprinkled on a million crowns. With the silvery full moon haunting the sky above, the view was fit for a king’s hall.
I leaned over the edge and smiled, lifting my eyes upward and breathing in a fresh gust of air. “Hmm…” I stared up at the moon, contemplating, “I could never give up sunlight or moonlight.”
Skip paced toward me until he turned and propped the backs of his elbows on the ledge, hovering low until he was eye-level with me. “Once I tried to stare at the moon for longer than a moment. It was one of the best moments of my life before the pain in my retinas turned excruciating. We pay a high price for our advanced genetics.”
“But one that’s worth it.”
“Depends on who you speak to.”
I shook my head, denying. “Flying must be worth the price.”
Skip smirked, glanced down at the ledge for a moment, then nodded. “Have you ever been flying, Miss. Caraway? Surely, your brother or father…”
“It’s Rin. And no…my family doesn’t take unnecessary risks.”
“But you believe you may fly someday.” It was more a statement than a question.
I pursed my lips and stared at the ground far below me, at all the darkness between. “I’ve dreamed of flying. Of becoming a wolf. I dream of many things.”
“Perhaps those dreams will come true someday,” prompted Skip before his fingers tiptoed across my wrist, white and soft as moonflowers. “After all…” He tilted his head toward mine and whispered, “you are the girl who’s supposed to surprise us all. The girl of prophecy.”
I could feel his breath mingling with mine as I responded, “I haven’t surprised many since my birth.”
“True, you are rather average.”
I arched my neck back and puffed a laugh. “Don’t you know? Average is unique again. Should be at least. Seems like everyone has some tragic backstory these days. Some disability or diverse angle.” I gripped the balcony and stretched my arms out, swinging my body just a little. “Well-adjusted, red-blooded girls with good families…we’re not trending. And I don’t care.” I side-eyed him.
I was all too aware of my privilege. Of my royal blood. Of my loving family. Of my human uniqueness as far as Le Couvènte was concerned. Never having a tragic background didn’t make me any less worthy. And my overall privilege and my bond to both races could shake the foundations of Le Couvènte.
“Growing up as the only human in your family must have come with challenges,” Skip put forward, gesturing.
A withering sigh escaped my mouth. “More for them than me.” The most I’d done over the years was wear some odorizer and learned breathing techniques and self-defense. It wasn’t like my parents could force me to change my blood.
Skip’s forehead dipped toward mine while his green glass eyes rode mine like a glittery carousel. “What do you want, Reina Caraway?”
“I want to become the queen who burns blood and shatters stars and sets hearts on fire.” I wanted to unite the clans and packs forever.
Skip’s fingers pressed the underside of my wrist, turning it over so his eyes wandered across the naked skin. I held my breath as he raised my wrist to his face, drawing my pulse
to his nose where he closed his eyes and inhaled slow and deep.
“Perhaps you’ll get your wish.” Suddenly, he opened his eyes to gaze back at me. “Your blood is intense. Not subtle. Perhaps everything inside you knows you are meant for great things.”
I pondered my nightmare and waking up in the vineyard. Was it more than a predator? Was it my body or mind trying to tell me something?
After another moment, Skip released my wrist so the cold could embrace it. My skin turned stale and numb as a rose left in the snow.
Tucking my hand behind the side of his jacket, I stepped away from the ledge and motioned back to the stairs. “I should get back. Heath’s probably worried.”
“You couldn’t be in safer hands. Allow me to return you to the party much faster than taking the scenic route.”
My hand paused along the inner stairway wall when I heard the sound of fabric ripping. Bones crunched. Fingers of wind, scented by redwoods and Skip’s cologne, rifled through my hair. Spinning around, I gazed, stunned, by the pair of great, black wings striking the air, flirting with the night, seducing my eyes. The rush of wind from Skip’s wings caused his jacket to slip from my shoulders and tumble to the ground. Reigning in my gasp because a vampire’s wings were both private and personal, I strode toward Skip until my footsteps collided with his wings’ shadow. And then, I studied one wing’s edge framing the side of my body. Just a mere breath from my skin.
The last time I saw Heath’s wings was when I was little. But vampire wings only grew stronger with time. Muscle defined Skip’s along with a network of silver veins. Both awed and hesitant, I lifted my arm, my fingers straying toward that wing. I glanced at Skip once to judge his reaction, but he only stared, scrutinizing my movement. As soon as my hand skimmed across the wing’s edge, it pulsed. I almost jerked back. Instead, I curved my fingers around it. It felt soft yet strong ― layers of skin housing muscle tissue. I marveled at the elaborate network of blood vessels and thin muscles all connected to two long bones jutting out from his shoulders with narrower ones protruding from them. After pressing down, I spread my fingers and traced the inside surface of the wing for a couple seconds. Until the wing recoiled.
“That’s enough,” Skip warned.
Shrinking my hand away, I blushed. Shuddered a moment later when Skip stepped forward, wound a hand around my waist, and propelled my face close to his chest while his wings curled around me. As soon as his right hand joined the left to raise me off the ground, sudden terror engulfed me. But Skip’s hand urged my chin upward, eyes beguiling me. Persuading me?
“I’m very good at this,” he said, voice calm as a cradle prayer.
I held my breath.
He crouched. And jumped. His wings beat upward before crashing down to smite the air. Undulating and curling, they repeated the motion again and again until I realized he wasn’t just lowering us to the ground: he was circling the Chateau. I reminded myself to breathe. All I felt was the rush of adrenaline. All I saw was the ground whirling, dervish-like, and the gray stone of the Chateau blurring around me. Paroxysms of wind rifled my hair thanks to the assault of his wings. More than anything, I wanted to turn around so my back was against his chest. To extend my arms and pretend they were my wings. I wanted his hands and feet to be my stepping stones, not my prison.
When a rough patch of wind caused Skip to plummet a few feet, my arms instinctively rushed to grab his neck. But Skip leaned over to murmur low, “Sorry for the minor turbulence, your highness.” It was a sultry whisper, tempting and predictive.
Three lifetimes of seconds later, his feet landed on the ground, anchored in one motion. All the inertia propelled me back, but Skip’s steadfast hands tightened on my skin. His fingers must have left prints on my naked back. I bit back a squeal when they collided with the bruises.
“Turn around so I may look you in the eyes before I kill you.”
I recognized the challenging voice. And wanted to scream. When Skip shifted with the grace of a monarch, I wished I could shed my skin and become just fur and paws and animal instinct. Heath stood before the open doors of the Chateau. Spectators watched from the lobby as he removed his glove and chucked it to the ground.
“Step away from my sister, Stefan White, or I’ll rip your heart from your chest, still warm and bloody.”
Chapter Six
Second Dream
“Heath, stop this now!” I demanded and marched toward him.
Skip’s wings retreated into his skin at the same time that he lowered his upper body to pluck the glove from the ground. Duels were quite common in Le Couvènte―centuries’ old tradition dating back before the city existed.
The first thing Skip tried to do was return the glove. “I don’t want to fight you, Mr. Caraway. And fortunately, your unique talent of reading my intentions should assuage any misled assumptions.”
Heath narrowed his eyes while mine darted back and forth between the two vampires and the rest of the on-looking crowd that had gathered. Trying to appear confident and not aggravated by the invasion of privacy, I stapled my hands to my sides and stared my brother down.
“However good your intentions…” Heath finally dictated after reading Skip’s mind, “You should have notified me. I don’t give a tinker’s damn how experienced a flyer you are, if you ever touch my sister again, I will not retract my challenge. And I will win.”
As much as I wanted to forget this moment, everything in me desired to show everyone I was fit to be a monarch. Fit to
suck the poison of embarrassment. And own it. I didn’t pale or blush.
“I apologize for putting you through any discomfort, Miss. Caraway,” Skip addressed me in a velvety voice that shamed Heath’s and eased any negative attention on me. “I trust it won’t hinder the rest of your evening, and I will see you at school.”
Expressing himself like a true king, Skip nodded, turned around, broke into vampire speed and disappeared into the night. All eyes lingered on me, including Vince who stood in the Chateau entryway surrounded by other vampires. I recognized some as young members of his clan.
“Great party!” I commended him and blew him a kiss.
“You’re invited anytime.” Vince touched his chest and bowed his head. I couldn’t tell if it was a mock bow or not, but I accepted it either way. It was time to leave.
Heath gritted his teeth once we were in the limo. “So, did you conveniently forget that you’re a human when you went on your self-indulgent, moonlight rendezvous?”
I stuck out my tongue. “He was a perfect gentleman. And I had no idea he was going to fly me back until his wings were already open. It would’ve been disrespectful to refuse.”
“Just answer me one question: was he persuading you?”
“No.” I shook my head but steadied my gaze on Heath and mentioned, “But he did persuade two vampire dealers threatening me to dump the blood out and get lost.”
Heath grunted while Brian whistled low and coughed out the words ‘humble pie’. My oldest brother brandished his eyes on the wolf and blackmailed him:
“Keep talking and I’ll tell Mom about your little side trips to the Sierra Packs.”
“Heath!” exclaimed Brian, alarm in his wide eyes. “You swore you’d never tell a soul, and now you broadcast it to Miss. Tattletale?!”
“The Sierra Packs? Really?” I guffawed at the mention of the mountain packs, the closest stronghold of wolves to our city―some who were once leaders in Le Couvènte but relocated deep into the Sierra Nevada mountain range.