Chapter 8
Chapter eight
Damien
Luna’s scent lingered—wild honey and a hint of lemongrass—as she walked away with Marcel. The empty space beside me felt wrong somehow, as if a limb had been temporarily removed.
A deeply concerning reaction, given the temporary nature of our arrangement, yet there it was, carving its way into my chest.
“You’ve always had unusual taste in companions,” Vivienne said, her fingers curling possessively around my arm. “But this is exceptional even for you, darling.”
I offered the smile I’d perfected in Louis XIV’s court—pleasant and revealing nothing. “Luna has qualities you’d appreciate if you took the time to know her.”
“I’m sure she does.” Vivienne’s violet eyes glittered behind her mask. “After all, she’s managed something that I couldn’t accomplish in decades, which was getting that ring on her finger.”
My family ring glinted on Luna’s hand across the gallery, catching light as she gestured to Marcel. I’d told myself the ring was merely a prop, a necessary element in our charade. Yet when I’d slipped it onto her finger, something had stirred beneath my skin.
“The world changes, Vivienne,” I replied. “We must adapt.”
“Must we? I find tradition has its merits.” She steered me toward a secluded alcove where several rare vampire artifacts were displayed. “Particularly traditions that benefit houses as old as mine and Elliot’s.”
The alcove was partially hidden from the main gallery by a rippling veil of magic, creating an area private enough for conversation while maintaining the appearance of appreciating Selene’s collection.
A clever choice for what Vivienne clearly intended as an interrogation about Luna.
A crystal decanter of dark liquid sat on a floating tray beside an ancient ceremonial dagger. The vampire equivalent of a private bar.
“Blood wine from Selene’s private stock,” Vivienne explained, lifting the decanter. “Vintage 1788. Pre-Revolution French nobility. Supposedly you can taste the arrogance.”
“How fitting,” I murmured, glancing back toward Luna.
Vivienne laughed, that practiced, musical sound that had once been the envy of Vienna’s social circle. “I’ve missed your particular brand of disdain, Damien. No one else quite manages to insult and charm simultaneously.”
The wine—blood mixed with rare herbs and aged to perfection—glowed ruby-dark in the crystal glasses she filled. She handed me one and took the other for herself.
“To reunions,” she said, raising her glass.
I mirrored the gesture. “To clarity.”
The blood wine was exquisite, and I savored it while watching Vivienne over the rim of my glass, calculating how much information I could extract from her without revealing our true purpose.
“Your little wolf seems quite taken with you,” Vivienne said. “Though I wonder if she knows about our…arrangement.”
“Luna knows what she needs to know.”
“How convenient for you.” She stepped closer, her winter roses scent enveloping me. “Why aren’t we engaged yet, Damien? After two centuries of understanding between the Cross family and mine?”
I blinked hard. Something wasn’t right. My thoughts suddenly felt viscous, as if trying to form in thick honey. My mind began to blur at the edges.
Blood Truth.
The ancient serum, banned by the Vampire Council for centuries, was designed to compel honest answers while leaving the victim aware of their betrayal. Vivienne had spiked the damn wine. To do this to a fellow vampire was unthinkable.
Yet I’d been careless. Overconfident.
Fucking distracted by Luna and my worry for her while she was with Marcel.
Vivienne recognized the moment I understood, her perfect lips curving into a triumphant smile. “There it is. I was beginning to think you’d never notice.”
I gathered my mental defenses, my mental walls, focused on a single memory to anchor reality, but all I could think about was Luna.
“The Blood Truth serum is forbidden,” I managed, my voice steady despite the compulsion clawing at my barriers. “The Council would have your head.”
“Only if they find out,” she countered. “And who would tell them? You? That would require admitting you were weak enough to be drugged in the first place.”
She knew me too damn well.
“Now, let’s try again,” Vivienne continued. “Our families expect our engagement. When will it happen?”
The compulsion squeezed tighter, a vise around my thoughts. I redirected, found a partial truth that might satisfy without revealing everything.
“Our alliance is unnecessary. It serves no purpose other than political maneuvering.” My voice sounded distant, fighting through the thickening fog in my mind.
Her eyes narrowed. “And the wolf? Luna Rookwood? What is she to you really?”
“A means to an end.”
Not a lie, but not the complete truth either. The serum detected the omission, twisting painfully in my veins.
“What end, Damien? Why are you really here tonight?”
The artifact display beside us blurred as I fought the compulsion. But the serum was powerful, crafted to unravel all defenses.
“Elliot is in the advanced stages of The Wasting,” I heard myself say, my horror mounting as the words escaped unbidden.
Vivienne’s eyes widened. The Wasting was rare, a magical deterioration that consumed a vampire from within, a kind of torture few could withstand. Or cure.
“And you believe something in Selene’s collection can help him?”
“Not directly.” My jaw clenched, my teeth grinding as I fought to stop the words. “We’re tracking…the Shadow Fang.”
“The Shadow Fang?” Genuine surprise flickered across her features. “That’s a myth, Damien. A legend vampires tell fledglings.”
“It’s real. And it’s the only thing that can save him.”
Her fingers traced my jawline, the touch amplifying the serum’s effect. “And how does your little wolf fit into this desperate quest?”
The compulsion burned now, like acid in my veins. “Her daughter…is dying. She’s in a magical coma. Luna needs the Shadow Fang…to save her. Our interests…align.”
“For now,” Vivienne said, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “How convenient. But there’s more, isn’t there? I can see it in your eyes, darling. What aren’t you telling me about Luna Rookwood?”
My mental defenses fractured further. Memories surfaced unbidden, like Luna’s laughter during our etiquette lessons; her unique, often sunny perspective; the fierce protectiveness in her eyes when she glanced in the direction of the patients’ ward; the electric current that passed between us whenever we touched, even casually.
“I find her…fascinating,” I admitted, the truth dragged from some place I hadn’t acknowledged even to myself. “Unpredictable. Alive in ways I’d forgotten could exist.”
Vivienne’s expression hardened, a predatory cold replacing her calculated charm. “You’ve developed feelings for her.”
It wasn’t a question, but the serum compelled an answer anyway. “Yes.”
There it was. The truth. And I’d only known her a few days. How could I have let this happen? Why couldn’t my dead heart stay dead?
When would I learn my lesson not to ever listen to my fucking feelings?
“Then you’re an even greater fool than I thought,” Vivienne spat. “She’s a disgusting wolf, Damien, whether she has a pack or not. She’s forbidden. Have you learned nothing from what happened in your Summer Court? Do you want this to be a repeat of Theodora?”
The name sent jagged pain through my chest, not from the serum but from memories I’d spent centuries trying to bury. Memories before I was turned, of my wild, carefree fae days, of another woman with honey-gold hair and eyes that challenged emperors.
Of my entire family, bloody and broken.
“Luna is not Theodora,” I managed.
“No, she’s far less worthy.” Vivienne placed her palm against my chest, directly over where my heart no longer beat. “Let me spare you the inevitable pain, darling.”
Magic swirled from her fingertips, the distinctive signature of a glamour.
“You will speak only favorably of me to Luna Rookwood,” she commanded, her voice resonating with power.
“You will defend me against any accusation she makes. You will not reveal to anyone that I’ve used Blood Truth or this glamour on you.
And when the Vampire Council comes knocking on your door”—she grinned—“you will tell them of your plans to marry me.”
The compulsion settled into my bones, weaving itself into my consciousness. I raged against it internally while my body remained outwardly calm, like a prison of flesh and magic.
“There,” Vivienne said with satisfaction. “Much better. Now, let’s rejoin the festivities before your wolf grows suspicious.”
The glamour allowed me to move, to think clearly now that the serum’s immediate effects were fading. But I knew with terrible certainty that I wouldn’t be able to warn Luna, couldn’t tell her that Vivienne now knew everything about our quest for the Shadow Fang.
The rest of Vivienne’s glamour? I would deal with that later.
As we emerged from the alcove, I spotted Luna across the gallery, still engaged in conversation with Marcel. Her eyes met mine, a question in them that I couldn’t answer.
The irony was exquisite in its cruelty. After centuries of careful control, of keeping everyone at precisely calculated distances, I’d found someone whose company didn’t annoy me.
Someone whose sharp edges complemented my own, but still had sunshine bursting from within despite all the darkness she’d faced.
And now I couldn’t even warn her of the danger we were in.
“Shall we?” Vivienne took my arm again, her grip possessive.
“Of course,” I replied, my voice steady despite the bubbling fire beneath my skin.
As we crossed the gallery toward Luna and Marcel, I made a silent vow.
The glamour might control what I said about Vivienne, might prevent me from revealing her treachery directly.
But I’d navigated vampire politics long enough that I knew about the loopholes in magic, the alternative paths to the truth.
I would find a way to protect Luna, even from myself if necessary.
Because the most disturbing revelation wasn’t what Vivienne had learned. It was what I had been forced to acknowledge. Somehow, in the brief time I’d known her, Luna Rookwood had become more than a means to an end.
She had become essential.
And that made her a dangerous vulnerability.