Page 122 of Hunt Me

“Yet, you are here.”

“I’m here for the coin. Why put my life in danger for thousands of gold coins when I can have so much more?” she asked, rubbing her fingers together greedily.

“You fucking whore!” Gregorio shouted. His face turned crimson, veins straining against his neck as he walked on his knees towards Matilda. Ezra captured him by the scruff of his neck, halting him from advancing further. And if that didn’t stop him, Luka’s blade to his neck did the trick.

“That is not how you address the Queen of Night Falls,” he voiced, pushing the sword further into his neck until blood beaded against the blade. Luka crinkled his nose as the scent of wolf tinged with vampire filled the throne room.

“You are a hybrid.”

“It seems I was correct,” Matilda voiced.

He ignored her and continued with his questioning. “Who is your benefactor? Is it Prince Lykaon?”

Gregorio smiled gruesomely and said, “You want it to be him so badly. It would be easier for you, am I right? I say it’s Prince Lykaon, and then you will slaughter my people before the sun rises. I won’t give you the satisfaction. ‘Tis true I don’t have possession of absurd wealth, but I did, once upon a time. It was bestowed upon me by my father, who loved my mother in secret.”

“And who might your father be?” Luka pressed.

“If there is one thing to learn about vampires, it is that they’re hypocrites. Rule for thee, but not for me.” Gregorio’s eyes slid over to Matilda before returning to Luka. “You’re just like him. Loud about your disdain and disgust for hybrids, but eager to make them.”

“What say you?” Luka growled, losing patience with every second his questions weren’t answered.

“I will answer your question, King Alesi. However, I must know something first. Why do vampire men bed other species?”

“You tread dangerous ground with that question,” Luka warned.

“Dangerous, perhaps. But necessary,” Gregorio said, lifting his chin higher. “You praise your women, and say they’re necessary to uphold a strong, pure lineage. Yet half your men sneak into the beds of wolves, witches,” he paused to glance at Matilda, “humans,” he drawled. “Is it because your women are as frigid in bed as they are to the touch?”

“Mind your tongue,” Luka said in low warning.

“I am only asking what no one else will. If vampire women are so revered, why do your men seek warmth elsewhere? Why do they hide their appetites like shameful secrets? Why do they create laws banishing the very beings they enjoy creating? Why do they promise the world, and give nothing but grief and desperation? Hm? Why did your father—our father—King Reynard seek my mother?”

The throne room collapsed into silence. The air thinned, as if they’d ascended toward the moon. Every soul in the room stilled, waiting for Luka’s reaction. Even the child that had been doing somersaults in Matilda’s belly had come to a sudden halt. The dukes glanced at one another in terror because they knew something irreversible had just been spoken aloud.

Luka stood motionless and unblinking like a marble statue. He simply stared at the man kneeling before him, as if his words hadn’t reached the part of his mind capable of processing information.

Eventually, there was a shift. Not a grand one, but a flicker—a tiny, involuntary narrowing of his eyes. He wasn’t angered. Not yet. He was simply suspended in disbelief.

Luka inhaled sharply through his nose and his shoulders stiffened as he straightened his spine.

“The men closest to death lie the most,” he whispered.

“Dead men tell no lies,” Gregorio rasped. “I can prove my claim.”

Luka shook his head. “I will not fall for your cheap tricks, and I certainly will not entertain your blasphemous claim.”

“Blasphemous?” Gregorio sputtered with a laugh. “You speak blasphemy with a human queen? Please tell me you jest!”

“Finish him, King Alesi,” Ezra interjected, sick of the mind games.

“I can prove my claim! My pendant! It was given to me by him!” Gregorio exclaimed. “It’s around my neck.”

Luka dropped his sword with a clatter and didn’t hesitate to snatch the thin leather necklace around his neck. He held it up, and his throat worked around the sudden buildup of emotion.

The gold pendant was small and unassuming to anyone else, but to Luka, it was a ghost from the past. His breath stuttered, and his pupils contracted, zeroing in on the golden disc. He knew the pendant — knew it very well.

For a moment, the throne room dissolved around him. He was a child again—a boy sitting cross-legged on the floor of his father’s study. Tired of being ignored by his father speaking to his advisors, Luka climbed into his lap and reached for the pendant dangling from his father’s neck. His father laughed, teased him for being bothersome, and allowed him to hold it. Luka sat quietly, tracing the engraving with curious fingers, while his father explained how precious the item was. And then, one day, it was gone. His father claimed it was lost, and young Luka found it peculiar that his father would lose something so treasured. He remembered asking his father about it, only to have the question swiftly dismissed. His father insisted he had more pressing matters to concern himself with.

Luka’s eyes lifted slowly, locking onto Gregorio’s face with undesired clarity. His disbelief cracked, slowly transforming to recognition and fear.