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I don’t understand. Not really. None of this makes sense. I wish I were snug back home, not here. And by home, I mean my first apartment from the beginning of the year. It was teeny, but bright and cheerful and mine. I wish I were there, nine months ago, and that I’d never even heard of Colton. That I blew him off when he sent me flowers and never talked to him in the first place. That I’d never felt the force of his fists or the brunt of his temper and that I’d never needed to know what it was like to live in fear. But those are useless, stupid wishes, and they can never be true.

So I don’t say any of that, and I don’t turn around and head out the way I came. Instead, I gulp nervously and respond, “I understand.”

Gaspard l looks at me with a forbidding expression, unreadable and unnerving. Then he says, “Wait here. I’ll introduce you to the Commandant. Then I’ll come back for you when he’s ready.”

He doesn’t wait for my response, merely slides through the door, the polished wood closing behind him.

So, with fear and hesitation in my heart, I wait.

Chapter 4

Julian

This meeting is a bore. They always are. They're just a way for the members of my Fraternity to vie for more power and prestige in my eyes. To flaunt their wealth and prowess and move up the chain of command. None has yet to truly impress me tonight, but I listen to their petty squabbles and veiled threats to each other with an indifferent ear. It is, at least, something to do. Being a vampire can be tiresome in its unending life. I’ve seen it all before, and I’ll see it all again. The key is to keep busy, or you’ll begin to fade and eventually walk into the sun. I’m not at that point yet.

The door to my council room opens, and my right hand, Gaspard, enters, carefully closing the door behind him. That, in and of itself, is strange. Usually, he would just let the door swing closed on its own, as anyone would do. What is he hiding?

He walks along the edges of the chamber while the others trade verbal jabs. Peripherally, I hear Leander make a cleverly disguised insult toward Raul’s mate. Raul isn’t the brightest in any room, and so he keeps talking about the profits of his art gallery without realizing he’s been gravely insulted. Gaspard makes his way to me and leans down.

“She’s here, Commandant.”

Ah, his lost love’s friend. The one who is in some sort of trouble. I remember Jade. She is a firecracker of a witch, and being with her was the first time I’d seen Gaspard truly happy. I encouraged the match, as much for the reason of seeing my comrade content as I did because it made him vulnerable. Gaspard has always been loyal since I turned him and saved his life. But I haven’t lived this long by blindly trusting anyone. Having a pressure point I can squeeze on him in the event that his loyalties ever turn against me would be useful. Alas, the relationship didn’t last. Gaspard never told me why Jade left him, only that he needed an NDA written up so that she couldn’t betray our secrets. She signed it and left without so much as a backward glance for her former lover. That she’s returned and embroiled herself with us again just for the sake of her friend speaks volumes about this person. I expect a bright, bold firebrand, just like Jade.

Still, I murmur back to Gaspard, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

If I listen to the plight of this friend of Jade’s and possibly render her aid, Gaspard will be in my debt. He’s offered up his marker, an IOU sealed in blood magic that I can cash in at any time, for any reason, and he must comply. I could ask him to bring me the head of his pretty little Jade, and he’d be helpless to say no. It gives me ultimate control over him. I don’t know what Jade promised him for him to take such a risk, but he has. The witch has him more in her thrall than I previously thought.

He nods, one sure, swift motion. He’s a vampire of few words, Gaspard. When he does choose to speak, he always means what he says.

“Then show her in.”

“Yes, Commandant,” he replies. He makes his way back to the door, and I clap my hands together, once, silencing the rest of the table.

“We have a guest, my brothers,” I say. I call them my brothers, though there are a few women at the table too. It’s a force of habit from my previous life, but it has always stuck, and my people expect it of me. “A human with a request. We will listen to her, and I will pass judgment. She is uninitiated with our world and will stay that way unless I choose to grant her request. Understood?”

“Understood, Commandant,” comes the reply from around the table, as I knew it would. These are my most loyal soldiers, the ones who are welcome at my table. Their fear of and devotion to me run equally to each other, and I expect no dissension from them. Any troublemakers in my organization have long since been dealt with.

Gaspard gets to the door, opens it slightly, and with my preternatural hearing, I clearly hear him say, “They’re ready for you.”

The door opens wider, and I get my first look at Jade’s friend. To be frank, I am disappointed. She is a mouse. Definitely not my type. I like bold, beautiful women with curves I can sink my hands into. I’m from the Dark Ages, after all. Bigger women will always be more attractive to me. This woman looks like skin and bones. Her cheeks are hollowed, and her collarbones stick out unattractively. She is dressed in a silver dress that is too big for her, and her hair is bedraggled from the rain outside. Her body language is frightened, her steps into the room unsure, her eyes cast down. This is no fiery Jade. She walks to the end of the long table I sit at the head of, led in part by Gaspard. When she is in place, she gives my right hand a tremulous smile and stands still. The room is deathly quiet, unnaturally so, in the way that only a room full of vampires can be. No one breathes as we all wait for her to begin.

Then she looks up, eyes locking with mine, and I am stunned. Her eyes . . . like the welcoming blue of the Mediterranean Sea. They almost look purple in the dim light of the Council Chamber, sitting in the shadows of her face. The rest of her looks, well, pathetic, but her eyes are special. I have never seen their equal.

“Greetings, Commandant,” she says formally, and I am surprised yet again. Her voice is clear and crystalline, yet somehow sultry and commanding. There is more to this mouse than meets the eye, and I find myself becoming intrigued, a rare emotion when one has lived as long as I have.

“What is your name?” I ask, finding myself genuinely curious about the answer.

“Andromeda Smith. I prefer Andi, though,” she answers, sounding confident in her reply, even as her body language is still nervous.

Andromeda. A princess from myth. I don’t know why she would prefer the plain and ordinary Andi when she has the name of a queen. I let her words linger in the air for a moment, taking the time to see how she reacts to an uncomfortable silence. She keeps my eyes, but her arms come up around her as if she is warding off a chill. Definitely scared, but fighting through it. There’s something strangely strong about the woman in front of me, even if she is a mouse. Strong, but fragile. Brittle, like she is holding herself together by sheer force, but one solid knock would break her. I wonder why I don’t like that thought and frown.

“Tell me, then, Andi,” I finally say, breaking into the silence, “why have you come here? What are you looking for?”

She shifts nervously and closes her eyes for a second. Strangely, I immediately miss them. Odd. Jade told Gaspard that she was human, but is this Andi actually some kind of enchantress, moving men with only her cerulean gaze?

When she opens her eyes again, her gaze finds me once more. She has yet to acknowledge the presence of anyone else in the room, and I find that fact pleases me. It is almost as if we were alone.

“Nine months ago,” she begins, her voice echoing lightly in the small space, “I met a man. He seemed like a gentleman, and I was drawn into his world with promises and pretty lies. Things were good for almost five months, and I thought that I’d found a prince charming. But in the last month of our relationship, he became controlling, hard to please, and, in the last week, violent. I only let him hit me once before I left, and I thought that would be the end of it. But it wasn’t. He started stalking me, both by himself and through PIs. I can’t get away from him. He’s everywhere, like some kind of phantom. He takes turns love-bombing me when he finds me and leaving terrible, graphic threats. He has even broken into my apartments and left things, just to let me know that I can’t keep him out. He’s rich and powerful, and the police won’t do anything to stop him. I—I can’t keep doing this. Soon I’ll have to leave the city, just to get away from him. But all my dreams are here. I never feel safe, never know when I’m going to see him again, never know when he’s going to escalate . . .”