Chapter Fourteen
Ama
Everyone had their weaknesses. I didn’t have many, but the ones I did have were pretty noticeable. Like being a hybrid in a society that valued purity of bloodlines.
However, I had not expected this new weakness to form.
A weakness for multiple princes. I was practically bouncing in my chair trying to not feel hyper-aware of how close the Hellhound prince was sitting to me.
Drayven was right—I shouldn’t have had four of those damn energy drinks before coming to lunch.
I had slept like shit and thought the drinks would energize me into a happy mindset…
instead, they had just made me hyper and extra-anxious.
Just like Drayven had claimed they would. Damn him. I hated when he was right.
I also hated that I could feel people staring at me.
Why had I assumed I would be able to eat lunch in peace before meeting the others?
Also, why the hell wouldn’t they have us introduce ourselves before we all sat down at a table together?
Oh right, most people already knew each other.
At least I had a basic understanding of who belonged to what house and their names from Otto’s lessons.
I fought the urge to fidget in my chair at the thought of being so outnumbered by unknowns.
Don’t look over here, I am just fine, promise, not embarrassing myself or anything…
“Ama, are you okay?” Damien’s voice was rough and caused my skin to break out in chills and my toes to curl. The Hellhound shifter had the type of voice you expected to hear the morning after a fantastic night of sex. Slightly raspy and care free.
I looked up from where I’d been staring at the table in thought and saw the room bustling as people filed in and took their seats.
From what I gathered, there were three spots for each house at the large, round table we were at: one each for the current ruling king and queen, and one for their heir.
Thankfully, the organizers had thought to remove the queen’s chair for the House of Death—where my mother would have sat, had she been at all present.
Instead, Drayven sat next to me in place of my father and I knew that the two of us were garnering attention at the table of seventeen.
“Of course, why?” I asked. The man clearly didn’t want to be here any more than I did, but his bonfire scent was absolutely intoxicating, wrapping around me and making this situation a tad more tolerable. Were his eyes really that golden, or was I imagining that?
I swallowed nervously, trying to not blush at how the man seemed to just fill all of the space between us so easily.
He wasn’t even trying to hit on me or anything like that.
He was just really large, and I could practically feel his Hellhound magic swirling beneath the royal facade, as if his nice clothes could hide what a dangerous predator he was.
“You’re talking to yourself.” His lip twitched, indicating his amusement as a bright blush formed on my cheeks and I darted my eyes away from his, knowing I’d be putty in this Hellhound's hands if he ever actively tried to flirt with me.
His handsome face was a deep golden tan, contrasted by dark, messy hair that somehow managed to make him look wild and reckless.
“I didn’t mean to—”
Before he could finish his sentence, someone cleared their throat, and my gaze snapped to the figure standing across the massive circular table from me. I felt my eyes widen and my face drain of color. Then, I got pissed.
This asshole. He’d said he’d be here, but I hadn’t expected him to be at this table with the Monarchs.
“Nice to see you again, Princess.”
Mr. Sexy Asshole from the restaurant stood there, looking ridiculously hot in a pair of dress pants and a button-down shirt that should have looked stuffy but somehow added to his effortless look.
His pale blonde hair was pushed back out of his unusual onyx and pearl eyes, which watched me with an intensity that didn’t match his casual words.
Had he been that large and muscular last time I’d seen him? The color rushed back to my face as I remembered the dream I’d had about him.
I wanted to know if we had shared that dream, but I wasn’t brave enough to ask him. No—I was scared of knowing his answer.
“Wish I could say the same,” I sniped back immediately, feeling Drayven tense next to me.
Well, more than he already was, anyway. I nearly jumped when his rough hand wrapped around my leather covered thigh, giving it a warning squeeze.
Which I ignored. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so snippy out loud, but hey, no take backs.
Mr. Sexy Asshole’s smile widened, “Oh I doubt that, although you didn’t have to spill a drink on me this time to get my attention.” I could feel people watching us, but I tried to block them out. Somehow, this banter with him made me feel more comfortable.
I scoffed, “Yes, that’s exactly what I was trying to do. Get your attention. You were just so ridiculously attractive that I was overwhelmed by my desire for you and decided that, instead of approaching you like a normal person, I should spill your drink on you. Is that right?”
“Sounds about right.” He shrugged, his eyes darting to Drayven beside me. He must not have liked what he saw, because he narrowed his eyes for a moment before pulling out his chair and sitting down.
“Colt, honey, you didn’t tell me you knew the House of Death’s heir.
” A feminine voice had my eyes darting over to the smaller, delicate woman sitting next to him.
She had the same pale blonde hair, and her perfectly fitted dress made her look all that much more elegant.
A crown, similar to her son’s, sat atop of her head.
“We met briefly.” Colt shrugged, his emotions seeming to shutter as a man sat down next to him.
The man’s gaze was far colder than the woman’s, and he looked me over before shifting his focus to Drayven, a look of disgust briefly flashing across his features before he steamrolled over both Colt and his mother.
“You must be the hybrid princess.” His eyes darkened as they focused on me once more, “I have no idea why your father would send you here. He's well aware that we don’t mingle with anyone not of pure blood. You being here is a disgrace to this entire Summit.”
Well, then. At least I was familiar with this type of situation.
People openly hating me. I knew I needed to handle this with cold detachment and show that his words would not faze me.
He was a bully, and bullies fed on knowing they were making their victims uncomfortable, be it physically or emotionally.
I smoothed my black chiffon blouse, which looked sleek against my red leather pants. Maybe I should have worn a dress to be more formal, but I had decided to only give into that level of formality for the actual ball. For now, I’d stay true to myself.
Damien let out a low growl, and I just patted his hand gently before leaning forward, my eyes on the King of the House of Fallen.
“Listen, I understand you think your opinion of me is important. That you think you’re somehow knocking me down a peg.
But let me be very clear: I don’t care what you think, and I would probably watch how you talk to me, considering you are not in the position of power here and have no chance of being so anytime soon. ”
Mic drop.
Drayven cleared his throat and the man stood, looking furious—as if he was seriously considering murdering me here and now. Instead, he stalked towards the door. Colt’s mother followed, her face pinched, and my gaze slowly slid back to Colt. Fuck. What the hell was that look?
I hadn’t been scared of him before, but the way he was staring at me was so intense, it caused heat to prickle the back of my neck. I turned towards Drayven to break the tension and found the Reaper watching me with interest.
“You did well not backing down in front of everyone,” he assured me quietly.
I countered, “He’s just another person who hates me because of how I was born. I’m used to that and quite familiar with how to handle those people.” A shadow fell over Drayven’s features, and he seemed to consider something before nodding. I tried to break the weird tension that descended.
“Who was that, anyway?”
“King Celorn and Queen Kahli of the House of Fallen,” Drayven began, lowering his voice as he nodded to the two rulers on my left, “King Drax and Queen Emberleigh are Damien’s parents.”
“House of Hellfire,” I murmured, peeking over to where the two individuals Drayven had indicated leaned over talking to Damien in hushed tones. Soft violins and pianos had begun to play. Unfortunately, between the two, I couldn’t hear what they were saying to him.
The woman’s gaze snapped to mine, her amber eyes warming momentarily before shifting back at her son. Well, at least that was one person who didn’t hate me. I wasn’t saying she liked me, but she didn’t hate me, and that was a start.
“They hate King Celorn,” Drayven added. Ah, that explained it.
“Then you have King Roarke and Queen Ava.” His voice stayed low as he continued, and my gaze followed around the table, to the spot between Colt’s family and Damien’s.
Immediately, my cheeks went up in flames because Finias was staring at me, openly.
Drayven let out a sound from his chest, and I brought my elbow back slightly, scowling at him before looking back at Finias.
Except, he wasn’t looking at me anymore.
A man I could only assume was Finias’ father—the similar hair color and lean build were pretty telling—had a hand on Finias’ arm as he leaned down and whispered something.
My gaze narrowed on the man’s grip, which was almost bruising.
While I knew Finias was more than capable of defending himself, it made me uncomfortable to see how his father was treating him.
It didn’t help that the woman standing next to him was watching her son with an indifferent, almost annoyed look.