Dinner With a Vampire (The Dark Heroine #1)(82)
Author: Abigail Gibbs

The King’s gaze was fixed on me and as I watched, his eyes fell through to black, tinged with red – deep, lustful, lecherous red. The palms of my hands burnt.

Kaspar hissed and his stance dropped. Nobody but us would hear it over the music, but it grew as he backed towards me, on my tiptoes, about to be thrown to the centre of the ring.

Abruptly, Sky let go and I fell, lurching towards Kaspar, who whipped around, lunging towards me as his father did the same, hissing and snarling. I opened my mouth to scream, fighting to try and regain balance, scrambling away, half on my knees in a futile escape from two predators who possessed a hundred times my strength and speed. Tears soaked the front of my dress as I tried not to watch, still scrabbling backwards. They came ever closer, both blurs, just a foot away when the King reached out and grabbed the lapels of his son’s jacket, tossing him away with a single hand.

The King spoke whilst he reached down with the other hand, grabbing my arm and yanking me upright. His voice cut through the confusion, a low hiss at his other son, Sky. ‘He does not touch her, not even for this!’

All eyes were on us and I stopped struggling, feeling the blood colour my cheeks, which I cursed, knowing it just added to the allure. Standing behind me, the King took the opportunity to grab both my wrists in just one of his hands, yanking them above my head. With the other he swept the hair from my right shoulder, a quiet snarl coming from between his lips.

I could feel his breath, so cold it seemed to burn my skin as he moved closer, like the way my palms burnt. The vein in my neck throbbed uncontrollably, pounding against my skin as though it was desperate to escape, but I knew it was because my heart beat for two as it sped wildly out of control. A few tears leaked from the corners of my eyes and I scrunched them shut, not wanting them to see me cry.

‘Open your eyes,’ he hissed in my ear, and reluctantly I prised them open. I felt like demanding to know why I had to watch them watch me suffer, but did not have to as the crowd to one side of us jostled and swayed, parting a little. Sky darted to the commotion where Cain had appeared, wrestling with Kaspar, whose expression was one of a man knowing he was fighting in vain: lips parted, fists clenched, brow lowered; hopeless. Without a word, Sky grabbed his brother’s arm as Cain did the same, both clearly worried that he might dive forward.

I knew he wouldn’t. It was too late. His eyes met mine and I managed the briefest of smiles as the King tightened his grip around my waist, preparing to throw me back and bite. My eyes fluttered closed. I plunged towards the floor, his fangs sinking into my neck as the room, as wide, tall and high as a cathedral was filled with the echo of a scream, not faked, not acted, like they had instructed, but real. Very real.

FORTY-EIGHT

Violet

‘You okay?’ Cain asked, pulling a handkerchief from his breast pocket, dabbing at the wound that I could feel stitching itself together already. We were outside, the gentle breeze cooling the sweat that covered my body.

‘I think so.’

It was a breathless reply and didn’t sound okay but it was all I could muster. The previous few minutes (although, according to the clock set high in the wall, it had been half an hour) had shaken me more than I expected and restored the fear of these creatures – although restored didn’t seem to be the right word, because it was a fear that had never truly existed.

‘Good,’ he said, stuffing the handkerchief into his trouser pocket. He looked like he had more to say, but I interrupted him.

‘Where’s Kaspar?’

Cain shot me a weary glance. ‘Talking with the King. You would think two weeks in Romania would have taught him a lesson.’

My ears pricked up. Romania?

‘Don’t feel too sorry for him,’ Cain replied. ‘He spent it boozing it up at Sky’s summer castle with his old mates from Vampirs.’

Romania? So that is where Kaspar had been banished to over the previous two weeks; and there was something about ‘mates’ that made me uneasy – something told me they were mates of both genders. My heart sunk. He had wasted no time. Yet here I am, moping about, waiting for my Prince to return. It was pathetic. What did I expect? I’m just another notch on the post. After all, I’m human scum with a future I apparently don’t deserve.

Yet I couldn’t help but remember the way he promised to not let anyone hurt me – the way he had pulled me across into his lap on the way to London. He seemed like he cared in those moments, but then he would flip and the jerk would reappear. Talk about Jekyll and Hyde.

‘Do you want to go back in?’

‘No, you go ahead. I just want to be outside for a bit.’

‘Suit yourself. Shout if anything happens.’

Walking around the pillar I slipped into the small alcove beside the doors, a smaller replica of the balcony above, tonight lit up with lanterns rather than torches.

I knew being alone should unsettle me more than it did, but I needed time to think without being bombarded with more information.

I had barely spared two thoughts about my dream the previous night. I knew I should have because whatever this Prophecy was, it was providing an excuse for my father to put his plan to get me out of here into action. And Valerian Crimson had said the same thing. Dark Heroine.

I also knew how I should feel about that. Relieved. Hopeful. Exuberant. But I couldn’t reconcile those feelings – which I did feel, in moderation – with the growing attachment I had to Varnley which I had openly acknowledged to Kaspar by refusing the chance to leave.

Yet what is there to justify me staying here? Most people despised me for sleeping with Kaspar – who I couldn’t touch in any case, which, according to Cain and Jag, hadn’t seemed to bother him that much in Romania. To top that off, I had a voice and nightmares about very real events. This place is sending me mad.

I wiped my mind clean, focusing on the water trickling in the fountain as something pushed against my barriers and attempted to pry. It persisted for a minute, and then its touch fell away.

‘A penny for your thoughts, Girly.’

I let out a deep breath and with the air went my worries. ‘My thoughts are mine, Your Highness, and are worth far more than a penny.’

He chuckled. ‘There you go again, denying the Prince of the Realm. You really should learn not to do that.’

‘I did.’ I turned, coming face-to-face with Kaspar, finally, after fourteen long, arduous days. ‘But it landed the Prince of the Realm in Romania for two weeks, which I heard he was not too pleased about.’