Chapter 1 #2
Cal is still across the room, and because it’s who I am, I can’t stop myself from fucking with him a little.
“It’d be a damn shame if I died tonight, you know? Have you seen how good I look in this tux?” My words are almost inaudible, but from across the room, I don’t miss the way Cal rolls his eyes beneath his mask.
I take that as a good sign that he’s still relaxed. I’m relying on his ears to pinpoint any instant danger. If he’s still capable of getting annoyed with me, then we’re not seconds away from being dismembered.
When I say we shouldn’t be here, I really fucking mean it. Our names are being dragged through the mud as we speak. I have no doubt a witch-hunt is already being organized to track us down and kill us, and all the people who want that to happen are in this room.
Because we took Kylie Moon.
But sometimes it’s better to hide in plain sight. No doubt, this is the last fucking place they’d expect Cal and me to be. And with their current focused intentions—their minds and eyes and dicks fixated on the women—they’re not thinking about the three Slater brothers they still need to kill.
They’re probably saving that for later—a problem for tomorrow.
An older but very imposing man with pepper-gray hair and dressed in a sleek black suit walks past me, and for the briefest of moments, we make eye contact.
His eyes are this bright, almost glowing, green, but I stay neutral and don’t let myself be the first one to look away.
Looking away shows weakness. Looking away is suspicious.
It’s a risk, making eye contact like this, because depending on this man’s powers, he might be able to see inside my head or read my mind or know I have a knife in my pocket that I’m prepared to use.
Eventually, though, he looks past me, a faint smile cresting his lips, and he crosses the room for a destination unknown.
I don’t know him personally, but I know he’s an elite vamp.
A very old, very rich, very influential one.
I can see it in his eyes. I can smell it emanating from his skin.
And I know he’s at least a shield like Holland Thorne because I can’t read his intentions at all.
Another elite vampire—much younger than the first—moves past me, just barely brushing my shoulder. But he doesn’t notice me at all because his eyes are too hooked on a blond woman across the room. My mind works to see if I can read his intentions.
Breed. Drain. Use up.
My skin fucking crawls.
In a room like this, it’s easy to read intention because predatory interest is different from desire or love or something that’s good.
The mind whispers it efficiently and without complications.
Predatory intentions aren’t clogged with overthinking or loose ends of doubts. They’re just there, clear and precise.
Fuck. I think I’ve had enough of this shit.
I meander over toward Cal, hoping he’s managed to listen in on enough conversations that we can get out of here, but something tugs at me.
It’s not physical or visual, but there’s a pull. It’s subtle at first, but then it becomes sharp enough that I feel it in my chest, and my feet falter back two steps.
Cal meets my eyes from across the room, and I can tell by the way his blue eyes turn down beneath his mask, he’s confused.
Trust me, bro. I’m fucking confused.
Paranoia starts to flow into my veins. Is this some kind of mind control? Have we been sniffed out?
All the while, the pull keeps intensifying. It feels like someone tied a line to my sternum from across the room and is yanking as hard as they can.
My eyes follow the invisible string.
And that’s when I see her.
Dark hair that’s not black or brown but something in between falls in smooth waves down her back. Her blue eyes are clear and bright and almost glacial under the chandelier lights.
She’s standing near the base of the staircase, next to a large marble statue, and her posture only showcases grace. She’s downright beautiful as she laughs at something a man behind a mask whispers to her.
The pull tightens so hard my hand goes to my chest. Fuck me.
“Kane.” My brother Cal’s voice is in my ear. He’s closer now, but I can’t even look at him.
Because I’m not really here.
Because the second I saw her, something inside me locked.
It’s not attraction or curiosity. It’s need—for survival. Like every fucked-up cell in my vampire body has decided it will revolve around her for the rest of my fucking life.
Mine.
The room dulls. The music fades into static. And all the while, she hasn’t looked at me a single time. But she doesn’t need to. This thing—the thing that’s happening to me—doesn’t require eye contact. It only requires proximity.
She turns slightly, stepping away from one of the masked men, and the movement drags my attention with it like gravity just rewrote itself.
Cal steps in front of my line of sight deliberately. “Hey,” he says quietly. “What are you doing?”
“Appreciating the art.”
“There’s no fucking art on that side of the room.”
My quiet laugh comes out thin.
Cal tries to search my eyes because I’m probably acting like a total dumb fuck right now, but the pull just keeps growing stronger the more I look at her.
And that’s when it clicks—she’s here, at this preview, with the vampire elite.
She’s a part of it.
And she doesn’t look afraid. She looks…excited and proud. She is excited and proud. Her intentions stem from believing this is her purpose. She believes this is her version of a fairy tale.
She thinks this is a good thing.
She takes a few steps, and the magnetic force between us snaps tighter.
I can’t look away.
For the first time in my life, I understand exactly what Rook meant when he said it was immediate.
I know, without a doubt, that I am absolutely, undeniably, catastrophically screwed.
Because it’s her.
And I’ve found her in the middle of an event surrounded by elite vampires who want to kill me, and not only does she na?vely want to be here—want to be fucking mated to an elite vampire—she doesn’t even know I exist.