Chapter 45
CHAPTER 45
JULIET
T he carriage rattles along the road, the night cloaking us in a shroud of uncertainty as we make our way to Darkhall Manor. My fingers curl around the edge of my seat as I look out at the ocean, watching the waves roll into the shore.
I glance down at my pale lavender silk dress. The sigil of House Greyvale is boldly embroidered in black and silver thread across the bodice. Valaric’s gaze meets mine, warm and reassuring, but it does little to quell the flutter of nerves in my stomach.
Across from us, Damar’s eyes are cold slits, his disdain palpable in the confined space of the carriage. His presence is a reminder of the precarious balance we must maintain tonight. Despite his disapproval of our marriage, he is accompanying us to present a united front before the Vampire nobility.
His nostrils flare as he stares at me with thinly veiled contempt. “Her unmarked scent will entice the others. You should have claimed her and given her your venom, Valaric.”
“She is my true wife.” Valaric glares at him. “It should not matter.”
Damar sighs heavily. Crossing his arms, he leans back in his chair. “I certainly hope you are right.”
As if sensing my worry, Valaric takes my hand. He assured me last night that it was unnecessary for me to be marked; that our marriage was enough. But now, under Damar’s scrutiny, I’m having doubts. Why wouldn’t Valaric have marked me if it was so important?
Drawing in a deep breath, I steel myself for what is to come. Whatever happens tonight, I will not allow them to see my fear. I send a silent prayer to the gods. Please let me be brave.
Valaric drapes his cloak over my shoulders, his masculine scent enveloping me.
“It’s not enough,” Damar says grimly. “A cloak cannot replace what should have been done.”
Butterflies flutter in my stomach. Why did he not mark me?
“We will manage,” Valaric says, his voice steady, but I can feel the tension in his grip.
After what feels like forever, the carriage lurches to a halt. Darkhall Manor looms before us. Like Mysthaven Manor, it sits on a cliff above the shoreline. It’s constructed of dark stone, with towering spires that seem to pierce the night sky. Lit torches line the drive and the walkway to the entrance, casting sinister shadows along the carefully manicured grounds.
The ocean breeze wraps around us, pulling at my cloak, as Valaric helps me out of the carriage.
Eben hops down from the driver’s seat and looks at me and Valaric. “If you run into any trouble, I will be nearby.”
“Let us hope it does not come to that,” Damar says. He straightens and smooths a hand through his hair before turning his gaze to the manor. “Let’s get this over with.”
I loop my arm around Valaric’s as we walk up the pathway to the main entrance. Imposing, gargoyle statues sit on either side of the large metal doors, their life-like eyes made of blue and white marble seeming to track our every move.
Two human men, that I’m assuming must be bloodsworn, bow low as we approach. Their eyes flick between me and Valaric, curiosity furrowing their brows.
When they push open the massive entry doors, haunting music echoes along the stone walls.
The front hall is a gaudy spectacle of golden objects and furniture studded with jewels. In the center of the cavernous room is a massive statue of Lord Stryker himself. It’s tall and imposing, and perfectly captures the condescending gaze I remember from our meeting at the clothier’s shop.
“Stay close,” Damar mutters under his breath as his eyes sweep over the room. “And, whatever you do, do not let down your guard.”
A servant leads us to a large set of metal doors, ornately carved with dozens of flying ravens. He pushes them open and the music swells even louder as it spills outside.
The ballroom is the epitome of decadent luxury. Golden chandeliers hang from the ceiling, their flickering candles casting an eerie glow across the faces of the gathered attendants. The air is thick with the scent of heavy spice with a trace of iron.
Gilded mirrors line the walls, reflecting dozens of elegantly dressed couples as they glide across the floor, keeping time with the hauntingly beautiful music. It seems that the rumors about Vampires not having reflections is yet another myth about Valaric’s people.
Long tables frame either side of the dance floor, and I notice several bloodsworn humans, their beautiful clothing as resplendent as those of their Vampire lords and ladies. Some sit demurely on cushions at their Vampire’s feet, their eyes lowered. A few are even collared as if they were nothing more than pets.
The entire scene sets my nerves on edge. I am the only human here not bound by servitude, a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed as I walk arm in arm with Valaric, with Damar on my opposite side.
A hushed silence falls over the room as we make our way toward a raised dais. Several eyes track us, some of them shining with curiosity while others observe with a calculating gaze.
Valaric wraps a possessive arm around my waist as he glares at the crowd, a silent warning to stay away from what is his.
A bead of sweat trickles down my spine as worry wraps tight around my chest.
Damar leans in. “Try to calm yourself,” he says in a low voice. “I can hear your heart fluttering like a trapped bird in a cage. The scent of your fear will only serve to entice the others.” His intense gaze locks on mine. “Show them you are unafraid.”
“I’m doing the best I can,” I hiss.
The irritated look on his face tells me he doesn’t think I’m trying hard enough.
“It will be all right,” Valaric whispers, trying to reassure me. “I will allow no harm to come to you, Juliet.”
I have no doubt he would do anything to protect me. As my gaze travels over the room and the dozens of red eyes fixed upon mine, I hope he never has to.
When we reach the raised dais, a Vampire takes a seat on one of the gilded chairs, and the entire room falls silent.
A gold circlet crown nestles in his short hair, which is a striking cascade of red fading into silver white. Dressed in a deep red tunic and black pants, he stares down at us with an imperious look.
A human woman with long, flowing brown hair stands beside him. She appears to be around my age, somewhere between twenty and twenty-five years old. Dressed in a crimson gown that matches his tunic, her warm brown eyes flick up to meet mine before quickly lowering again.
“That is Prince Raine and his bloodsworn,” Damar murmurs under his breath. “We must bow.”
The prince? I’ve heard so many terrible stories about him. My heart taps a frantic beat as I execute what I hope is an acceptable bow alongside my husband and Damar.
“You may rise,” the prince’s rich voice cuts through the awkward silence in the room.
Drawing in a deep breath, I lift my head and straighten my back, slightly tipping up my chin to feign a courage I definitely do not feel in this moment.
A servant places a cushion at the prince’s feet for the human woman to sit upon.
Prince Raine looks at it and snarls in disgust. “Bring a stool for my blood wife,” he snaps. “Now.”
The servant scrambles to do as he says. When I look back at the prince, his crimson eyes are fixed on me, their burning intensity making me want to hide behind my husband.
Instead, I force myself to remain still. Valaric stands beside me, his hand resting on the small of my back.
“Prince Raine,” Valaric begins. “Allow me to introduce my true wife, Lady Juliet Greyvale.”
Prince Raine studies me like a serpent eyeing a fledgling bird. “A Vampire married to a human,” he muses. “I have never heard of such a thing.”
The prince leans forward, a sinister smile playing on his lips. “Tell me: Have you bewitched our Lord Greyvale, pretty human? Is that why he took you as his true wife instead of as a blood wife?”
Fear coils in my stomach, but I ignore it. Vampires revere strength, and I refuse to appear weak before this man. “That would be quite difficult, your Highness, since I am only human and possess no magic.”
Someone in the crowd gasps, shocked by my somewhat impertinent answer.
“I beg to differ.” Surprised amusement flickers across the prince’s features. “There must be some sort of magic in your blood, to make your husband lose all sense of propriety by taking a human for his mate.”
His words send a chill down my spine as his expression turns contemplative. “Maybe it is something in your blood.” A predatory gleam lights his eyes as his fangs extend. “Perhaps I should take a sample for myself.”
Valaric tenses at Prince Raine’s thinly veiled threat. He positions himself in front of me, his entire body bristling with anger. “No one will—”
“Perhaps it was not clear,” Damar cuts in, his voice ringing with authority. “As the true wife of Lord Valaric, Lady Juliet is a member of House Greyvale and thus afforded the protection of the laws that govern our kind.”
The entire room seems to hold its breath, waiting for the prince’s response. Valaric’s grip on my waist tightens, a silent vow of protection.
Out of the corner of my eye, a purple tail flicks in the shadows along the wall. Thankfully, no one seems to have noticed Aerlyx is here, but if the prince makes a move, the Incubus will teleport me to safety.
He and Valaric devised this plan last night. My husband hoped we wouldn’t need to resort to such measures, but in this court of blood and darkness, my new title may not be enough to keep me safe.
Irritation flickers across Raine’s face, so fast I nearly miss it, before he leans back in his chair as if bored. Instead of responding to Damar’s statement, he holds his hand out to his bloodsworn, and she takes it without hesitation. He lifts her arm and skims his nose along the jumping pulse of her slender wrist, inhaling deeply.
“There is nothing like the taste of human blood.” His voice is a low and sensual purr. “Don’t you agree, Lord Valaric?”
Before Valaric can answer, the prince pulls the woman into his lap. With one hand solidly on her thigh, he tangles the other in her long brown hair and then dips his head to the column of her throat, pressing a tender kiss over the pulsing artery. “I suppose I understand,” he muses, trailing his lips along her skin until he reaches her shoulder. “I wouldn’t want anyone tasting what is mine either.”
A devious smile curves his mouth. “Tell me: how did you end up wed to a human, Lord Greyvale?” He gestures to the crowd around us. “I’m sure I am not the only one interested in hearing your story.”