Page 75

Lachlan

It's been years and years since I was last inside House Sanguine's stronghold in the heart of New Orleans, and nothing's changed. Sanguine is the most eternal of all the houses, in that they'll probably outlast every single one of us like roaches. And in that, their decorating sense still seems rooted in sixteenth-century Romanian ideals.

"This is so weird," Vivienne mutters from where I've tucked her into my side.

"You're not wrong," I tell her.

Amidst the gothic arches that seem to grace every doorway and the overwrought ornamentation, there are sprinkles of Creole and Cajun culture all over. A taxidermied alligator at least six feet long hangs suspended from one of the high ceilings, teeth plated in gold and a crown of candles burning on his head.

My bear is on high alert, the rotting, floral scent of vampires setting our teeth on edge. A growl rumbles low in my chest, aching to get out. I pop my neck, turning it both ways, trying to summon the strength I'll need to get through tonight without savaging any of House Sanguine. The last thing I want is for Vivienne's chances at survival to be hurt because I couldn't control myself around a fucking bunch of uptight, arrogant vampires.

"Is it always this dark in here?" Vivienne asks me, squinting in the dim candlelight. "Smells weird, too."

She scratches absentmindedly at her neck, and the growl comes out of me at once.

"Don't draw attention to that," I tell her. "You're already appetizing without leaving a red patch there."

"What?" she says absentmindedly, staring at the members of House Sanguine who mill about in the ballroom just ahead.

"The only red I want on that neck is the marks of my kisses," I say, and then instantly regret it, snapping my mouth shut with a click.

"Oh," she says, looking up at me with something like surprise in her eyes. "I had no idea you were such a good actor," she says. "Could have fooled me."

I hate that she thinks I'm acting. That she thinks that the way I feel about her isn't wholly real, when the mate bond and the tug I feel to her is the most real thing I've felt maybe in my entire life. Feels disrespectful. Morally repugnant, even. I may not have known Vivienne for very long, and this attraction, this need for her, borders on worshipful in a way that is more than alarming. Because how is it that I can feel so strongly for a person that I've only known for a few weeks?

Which just goes to show how stupid the mate bond is. Because despite knowing that—despite knowing that there's no happy ending for us, that her death and insanity is the only possible outcome—I still want her.

I can smell her fear, and I realize I'm growling, and tamp down my protective instincts.

"You'll be all right, lass," I tell her, hating myself. Hating that this is what my life has become. Hating that the Eternal Society is going to take away my only chance at eternal love.

Vivienne deserves so much fucking better than this. Better than them, better than House Sanguine, better than this entire life that she's pledged herself to without knowing any better. Not that there was any way she could have avoided it.

Anger replaces the fear, which replaces the sadness, until all I am is fury. The bear raging in me to get out. To defend his mate. To rip the throats and heads off every single one of these fucking vampires, and then to get Vivienne as far away from these motherfuckers as I possibly can.

"You're shaking," Vivienne tells me. "Is there something I need to know about?"

I really hate myself, because she deserves to know. She deserves to know exactly what's going on with me and with her, and with the potential of our future together. But the last thing she needs right now is to think about anything but the task at hand and surviving this night.

"I'm fine," I lie through my teeth.

She gives me a long look, an arched eyebrow so beautiful I could weep with the joy of it, before shrugging slightly.

"Fine, be like that," she says. "Not my circus," she mutters darkly.

Julian St. George has drifted far ahead of us, and all manner of House Sanguine members float around on the inside, dancing a dance older than me, older than House Midnight, to music they've played for centuries.

The bear inside me is fighting with every bit of strength he has to get out, to rip limb from limb, to tear heads from necks, and rend the clothing of these foul creatures from their bodies in a display of loyalty and brute violence for my mate, to show her that we are worthy of protecting her.

It takes all of my strength to keep him locked up deep inside me.

It's gonna be a very long night. I smile grimly. Either that, or a very short, extremely bloody night.

Twenty-Eight

Vivienne

There are no words to describe the crowd in front of me. For one, it's much larger than I expected, and much more diverse. Vampires and people of every shape and size, every possible ethnicity, all dressed in beautiful shades of blood-red and black. The expensive swish of satins and silks is the only sound before the fabrics fall silent, chastened by the stillness of their wearers. The thing that everyone in House Sanguine has in common is their unearthly beauty and their preternatural stillness.