Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Selena
Dimitri winked as he held open the limo door.
I couldn't even manage a thank you. My voice had abandoned me somewhere between my front door and the sidewalk—right around the moment Rocco had offered me his arm and every feeling I'd buried came roaring back to life.
I slid onto the leather seat, hyper-aware of Rocco climbing in beside me. The door closed with a soft thunk, sealing us inside.
The limo pulled away from the curb.
And suddenly, I couldn't breathe.
He looked even more devastating in the dim interior than he had standing on my doorstep.
The tuxedo hugged his broad shoulders. His dark hair fell loose around his face, making him look like some romantic hero from a gothic novel.
The faint scent of his cologne—something woodsy and warm—wrapped around me, making my head spin.
Heat crept up my neck, spreading across my cheeks. I turned toward the window, avoiding his gaze, and scooted a few inches away until my hip pressed against the door.
Distance. I needed distance.
But the limo wasn't that big, and every nerve in my body was screaming at me to close the gap between us. To press myself against him. To finally feel what it would be like to—
Stop it.
I clasped my hands in my lap, knuckles white, and stared out the tinted window at the passing streetlights.
This was going to be a long ride.
Rocco stared out his window. I stared out mine. Neither of us said a word.
The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. I could hear every breath he took. Every shift of fabric when he moved. My awareness of him hummed under my skin like a current I couldn't shut off.
He had been in love with Rose. Everyone knew it. He'd followed her around like she hung the moon, blind to anyone else—including the mate the fates had chosen for him.
And me? I'd been an idiot.
A heartbroken, reckless idiot who'd made all the wrong choices.
When Rocco had made it clear he didn't want me, I'd spiraled.
Let my pain twist into something ugly. I'd followed Grayson Allen—Rose's step-father, a traitor who'd wanted to dethrone the Vampire King.
I'd told myself it was about justice, about change, about something bigger than my broken heart.
It wasn't. It was about hurting so badly that I didn't care what I destroyed—including myself.
I'd been branded a traitor. My reputation shattered. And Rocco had looked at me like I was dirt beneath his shoes.
Disgrace, he'd called me. Not worthy.
And then he'd outright rejected me. Cut me out of his life as cleanly as if he'd taken a knife to my heart.
Until now.
I stole a glance at him—his sharp profile, his jaw tight, his dark hair brushing over his broad shoulders. He was here. He'd sought me out. Asked me to come with him tonight.
Why the sudden change?
What did he really want from me?
The silence was unbearable. I opened my mouth to say something—anything—when Dimitri's voice cut through the tension.
"You two know this is supposed to be a date, right?" He glanced in the rearview mirror, ice-blue eyes glinting with amusement. "Dates usually involve talking. Flirting. Maybe even eye contact."
Dimitri seemed almost... concerned. Which was strange. Why would he care if Rocco and I weren't talking?
It wasn't like we'd ever been a thing.
"Shut up, Dimitri," Rocco muttered.
"I'm just saying." He shrugged, turning onto a tree-lined drive. "The sexual tension back there could set off a smoke detector. Might as well do something about it."
My cheeks burned. Rocco's nostrils flared.
Dimitri grinned. "Or don't. This is entertaining too."
Before either of us could respond, the limo slowed. Wrought-iron gates loomed ahead, the metallic scrollwork gleaming in the moonlight. They swung open as we approached, revealing the long drive that led to the heart of Red Rose Academy.
My breath caught.
I'd been here a hundred times, but tonight it looked different.
Thousands of fairy lights twinkled in the ancient oaks lining the drive.
Luminaries glowed along the pathway. And at the end, Rosewood Grand Hall rose up like something out of a dream—all pale stone and soaring windows, its facade bathed in soft golden light.
This was where graduations were held. Where balls and galas brought the oldest bloodlines and darkest crowns together. Where, tonight, the most powerful beings in the world would gather to celebrate a century of love.
And I was walking in on Rocco Palazzo's arm.
The limo pulled to a stop at the entrance. Dimitri climbed out and came around to my side first. He opened the door and held out his hand, a smirk still playing at his lips.
"My lady."
I clasped his hand and let him help me out, my heels clicking against the cobblestones.
Rocco followed behind me, close enough that his scent wrapped around me—woodsy, warm, so masculine. So him.
My fangs lengthened before I could stop them, pressing against my lower lip. The urge to turn around, to press my mouth to his throat, to scrape my teeth against his skin and taste his blood—
I shook my head, trying to knock the lust out of my brain.
Get it together, Selena. You're at a formal event. With hundreds of supernatural elites. And your fangs are out like some fledgling who can't control herself.
I ran my tongue over my teeth, willing them to retract. They did—barely.
This night was going to be a disaster.
Rocco's hand settled on my lower back, warm and possessive through the thin fabric of my gown. My skin tingled where he touched me.
"Let's go," he said, his voice low.
Before we could move, Dimitri stepped forward and clasped Rocco's arm. The playful smirk was gone. His ice-blue eyes were deadly serious.
"Call. When you need me to pick you up."
It sounded like a simple instruction. But something in his tone made it feel like a warning.
Rocco gritted his teeth and jerked his arm free. "I will."
The two of them stared at each other for a beat too long. Some silent conversation I wasn't part of.
Then Dimitri stepped back, the smirk sliding back into place like a mask. "Have fun, kids."
He climbed into the limo and pulled away, leaving us alone at the entrance.
I glanced up at Rocco. A muscle twitched in his cheek.
Why was he being so sharp with Dimitri? They'd seemed friendly enough earlier—or at least, Dimitri had been his usual annoying self. But that exchange...
Something was going on. Something Rocco wasn't telling me.
I filed it away and let him guide me toward the doors.
Two male students in Julienne’s class opened the doors for us.
Costin and Julienne stood just inside the entrance, greeting their guests with the easy grace of two people who'd had a century to perfect the art of hospitality.
Julienne looked stunning in a crimson gown that swept the floor, the color bold against her pale skin.
Her blonde hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail—on anyone else it might have seemed understated, but on her it was effortlessly elegant.
Long diamond earrings caught the light with every turn of her head, and a massive diamond pendant rested against her collarbone, glittering like captured starlight.
Beside her, Costin cut an imposing figure in a three-piece black suit, his dark hair pulled back into a knot at the base of his skull. Even in formal wear, there was something predatory about him—a stillness that reminded you this was no ordinary vampire. This was Dracula. The original. The king.
His dark eyes swept over us as we approached, and I saw the moment he registered who was on my arm.
His gaze widened. Just for a second. Then he recovered, his expression smoothing into something polite and welcoming.
But I'd seen it. The surprise. The flicker of what the hell is he doing here.
My stomach tightened. If Costin was surprised to see Rocco here, what was everyone else going to think? I could already feel the whispers gathering like storm clouds—the rejected mate, clinging to the man who’d thrown her away. I lifted my chin. Let them talk.
"Selena." Julienne smiled warmly at me, then turned to Rocco. Something shifted in her expression—curiosity, maybe, or concern. "And... Rocco. It's so good to see you."
The words were gracious. The pause before his name was not.
I felt Rocco stiffen beside me, his hand pressing harder against my lower back.
This was going to be an interesting night.
“Julienne, you look beautiful,” I said. “Happy Birthday.”
She laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Thank you, dear.”
“Yes, happy Birthday. Angelo Santi was unable to attend, so he asked me to represent him,” Rocco murmured beside me. His voice was steady, but I could feel the tension moving off him in waves.
Costin’s expression shifted. The polite mask cracked—just for an instant—and something sharp and predatory flickered in those ancient eyes. He studied Rocco with new interest, like a hunter who’d just spotted movement in a treeline he thought was empty.
“Angelo sent you.” It wasn’t a question. “Interesting.”
Julienne placed a gentle hand on her husband’s arm, a silent warning. Costin’s expression smoothed back into cordial neutrality, but his gaze lingered on Rocco a beat too long.
“Well,” Costin said, his voice pleasant again. “Do give Angelo my regards. And enjoy the party.”
It sounded like a dismissal. It felt like a threat.
We moved past Costin and Julienne into the ballroom.
The space was packed—every bloodline, crown, and coven in the supernatural world crammed into glittering gowns and tailored suits, champagne flutes catching the light from the massive crystal chandeliers overhead.
Laughter and music and the hum of a hundred conversations filled the air.
Then movement caught my eye, and I sucked in a breath.
Dante Palazzo was cutting through the crowd, heading straight for us. His dark eyes—so like Rocco's—were blazing with barely contained fury. His lips curled back, revealing the tips of his fangs.
He looked like he wanted to tear his brother apart right here in the middle of the party.
I grabbed Rocco's arm. "Rocco—"
He'd already seen. His body went rigid, and then he stepped in front of me, putting himself between me and whatever was about to happen.
"Stay behind me," he said quietly.
Two brothers. Cain and Abel.
And I was standing right in the crossfire.