Chapter 25
Zander stood before the head of security, so angry he had to consciously rein his aura in. He focused on speaking without added power, but his voice still came out in a low, dangerous rumble. “Find the culprit, or I will personally whip the skin from your back. This happened on your watch.”
“Acknowledged, Master Zander. The buck stops with me. My team is available for you or your people to scan their minds to see if you notice something they did not. I also have people reviewing the feeds, but you are welcome to do so as well.”
Zander nodded. “I will view video feeds first, and then go through the minds of those nearby the affected. Can the computer in Lucien’s office — the one at the conference table — access them?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Make it happen. I’ll be up in five to ten minutes.”
Zander stopped off in the kitchens to be certain the staff knew to prepare chicken broth for the affected, and told them to make up a few gallons of Emerald’s electrolyte recipe, and then headed to the theater to check in on those setting the beds up again.
When he made it to the conference room, he found someone setting up two large monitors on the conference room table. Moments later, he was sitting in front of them, speeding through footage, with buttons to push to go faster, slow down, or stop.
He made a mental note of which security people were around those marked, but he didn’t see any vampires touching the affected spots.
So far, nine of his flock had been marked this time, and the solution was stronger, the burn deeper and redder.
He’d given those who were sick treble pay for the days they were down, and had to pay others extra to feed more than one vampire per day — but it wasn’t the money that mattered, it was the fact he was responsible for protecting his people, and he’d failed.
Lucien entered while he sat and replayed the first video he’d looked at, hoping perhaps a second viewing would make something pop.
He stopped the video and told him, “We’ll send notices out a few days after the end of this session, notifying everyone with reservations when they’ll be coming. After this, we’ll certainly be dividing up the Concilio and Senatus.”
“We can’t be certain that’s what this is about.”
Zander lifted his brows and didn’t say a word.
“Right,” Lucien said. “It’s a good possibility, but we should wait until we know for certain.”
“The ezret symbol means oath breaker. Traitor. We can probably focus our attentions more on Concilio members, but we’ll need to make a show of investigating everyone.”
Lucien shook his head, frustration showing on his normal poker face.
“We have to handle this delicately. If we don’t do a feeding frenzy tomorrow night and only have supervised feedings…
” He sat heavily in a chair. “They’ve paid millions to be here, for the experience of the constant party and entertainment, the nightly decadence. ”
“I won’t put the flock members at risk of this again. No more free-for-all access to our shifters until we find the perpetrators. One flock member per vampire, so we know damned well who they touched.”
Lucian nodded. “We can do that. Sleeping Beauty keeps them constrained to one person, Il Trovatore, Moulin Rouge. We’ll separate the tables or mats more, but we should use more hidden cameras for extra monitoring. We can’t insult them with more security in the room.”
“One would almost think,” Zander said, his voice so calm he understood it would be frightening, “that you only care about the paying customers, and not the shapeshifters we are bound to protect and defend. Those who willingly give their blood to keep us — and our paying customers — alive.”
Lucien spread his hands in a placating gesture. “Of course I care, but we must consider the bigger picture.”
“We must find the perpetrator. What expedition can we offer to get everyone out of the Silo? Once they’re out, we can search everyone’s quarters for the poison.”
Lucien looked horrified. “Let’s keep that as a last resort, Master Zander. I suggest we go through the minds of everyone the vampires brought with them. Their companions are likely to know if their Masters have plans, and if not, they may at least suspect it’s their Master.”
Zander sat back and considered it. “The idea has merit. Get me a list of everyone who came as a guest of a paying vampire — shapeshifters, humans, and vampires. I want to be certain I don’t miss anyone.”
Spence had sent a telepathic knock earlier, the kind that meant there was information that wasn’t pressing, so Zander waited until he left Lucien’s office before telepathing him back.
He got an update on how badly the nine were doing, and then, “Emmy spoon-fed Felix to get him to eat, and she held Toby while he puked and then washed his face with a clean cloth. She takes care of her friends. I know we aren’t supposed to be talking to Sophia or Aaron while we’re here, but damn, I wish they could see her. ”
“Neither needs to know about what happens at Mordnik. No communication. Aaron had a hard enough time knowing she was a feed-and-fuck in a normal coterie, he doesn’t need to know what she’s agreed to in order to come with us.”
His best friend thought his oldest daughter was on an expedition, the same as the professors thought.
Zander hadn’t lied to him, but he hadn’t corrected his faulty intel, either.
The old dragon would eventually find out, because supernatural gossip was legendary, but there’d be enough space between the activity and him hearing about it, the impact wouldn’t be as great.
But Spence was right about Emerald — she’d grown into a brilliant, caring young woman.
A woman who was off limits to Zander, no matter how much her very essence called to him.
He pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.
He moved from mind to mind, finessing his way past the paying vampires’ companions’ shields so they didn’t have a clue he was wandering through their memories.
A few had strong shields, or triggers within them, so he made a note to return to them while they slept.
The thing about putting triggers in your shields is you trust them too much and assume you’re safe while you sleep.
But Zander could get by the triggers without tripping them, and he would.
Emmy worked practically nonstop in the ballroom to help Felix and Toby get through the worst of the poisoning’s effects, only leaving them to nap and participate in the feeding frenzies.
They’d changed the order of the themed nights, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out management was keeping it to one shifter and one vampire, with no chance for another vampire to physically touch them.
This time, she enjoyed the Sleeping Beauty feeding frenzy quite a lot, and once she figured out why, she learned something new about her own personal kinks.
Getting dressed up for it was fun: the dress, the wig, doing the make-up based on the example image — gold highlighting powder, kohl for her eyes, blood-red lipstick. The silo provided the makeup so all their Sleeping Beauties would look the same, but she and Rhea added mascara.
The mirror reflected a stranger, a princess waiting for her fate. Getting dressed up as a different character every day was fun, especially when it led to sex.
Upstairs, she situated herself on the padded table where she arranged herself, arms crossed delicately over her chest, breath shallow, eyelashes fluttering closed against her cheeks.
She heard approaching footsteps, the rustle of expensive fabric. A hand stroked across her breasts, over the silk fabric, ran down her torso, over her hips. The table moved slightly, hands gripped her legs and separated them.
A scream tore from her chest as Prince Charming impaled her without mercy, the savage invasion setting every nerve ending ablaze.
Her spine contorted off the table like a lightning strike, her howl ricocheting off the chamber walls and reverberating through her bones, her back bowing off the table until only her shoulders remained in contact.
The violence of it blazed white-hot behind her eyelids, and they flew open in genuine shock this time.
Emmy’s body thrummed from the raw intensity, every nerve singing as Prince Charming’s relentless thrusts drove deeper, the silk gown bunching around her hips.
He drove into her with brutal force, each thrust a claim, a conquest, and her body responded with a wild, primal heat.
The pain was sharp and intense, but was laced with a dark pleasure that made her gasp and arch her spine even further.
Each plunge stoked a wildfire in her core, her wide-open thighs trembling, her calves throbbing where his icy grip held her legs open while he pounded into her.
The padded table creaked beneath her, her breath hitching in ragged gasps, the heat building low and fierce, a pressure that coiled tighter with every savage stroke. Her fingers clutched the silk, nails digging into her palms, the pain a sweet counterpoint to the pleasure surging through her.
The vampire’s overwhelming presence above her, dressed as an evil Prince Charming, was eye candy to everything else — his hips moved rapid-fire with relentless violence, pushing her to the edge of endurance.
The sensations went on and on until suddenly, the trumpet flourish resounded through the theater, and the vampire leaned down, brushing his lips across her neck in a cool tease before his fangs pierced clean and neat, the sting sharp yet electric, sending a shiver down her spine that quickly morphed into a throbbing, pulsing heat.
She felt the draw of her blood, the vampire feeding from her with a hunger that matched his earlier frenzied movements.