Chapter 10 #2
Well, hot damn. Damien had entered his moody, direct phase for the evening. Gone was the diplomatic vampire. In his place stood something far more dangerous—a predator who had tired of games.
Vivienne’s perfect composure faltered for just an instant. “Playing at? You wound me, darling. I merely happened to be passing by when the security alert occurred.”
“You’ve never ‘merely happened’ to be anywhere in the three centuries I’ve known you,” Damien replied, his voice dropping lower. The air around him seemed to cool by several degrees. “Every move you make is calculated.”
I’d never seen this side of him, this commanding, intimidating presence that made even Vivienne take a small step back.
“Perhaps we should continue this discussion elsewhere,” Vivienne said, her eyes darting toward the corridor.
Damien offered me his arm, though the cold fury radiating from him was palpable. “My fiancée and I were just leaving,” he said, emphasizing our relationship with deliberate intent. “Shall we, beloved?”
I took his arm, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles. “Of course.”
Vivienne stepped aside to let us pass, but as Damien drew level with her, she placed a restraining hand on his arm. The contact seemed casual, but there was nothing casual about the way her crimson nails dug into the fabric of his tux jacket.
“The Vampire Council has already requested an audience, Damien,” she said, her voice honeyed. “Tomorrow night. Regarding your maker’s condition and your recent unconventional choices.”
The muscle in Damien’s jaw tightened. “I’ll respond to the Council’s summons when I return to my residence.”
“They won’t be pleased by further delays,” Vivienne said, her gaze flicking to me. “Especially given the company you’re keeping. Really, darling, what will our people say when they find out?”
Damien moved so quickly I barely registered it, his hand capturing Vivienne’s wrist and removing it from his arm. His expression hadn’t changed, but the temperature around us dropped further.
“My choice of companions is not the Council’s concern,” he said, his tone carrying a deadly edge that dragged a shiver down my shoulder blades. “And if anyone—Council member or otherwise—attempts to interfere with matters that don’t concern them, they will find I am not as diplomatic as my maker.”
Vivienne’s perfect smile vanished. “But our families’ expectations for us, the laws for Council members—“
“Allow for any alliance I choose to make,” he said. “Good evening, Vivienne.”
Without waiting for her response, he guided me through the doorway and back toward the main gallery. Once we were beyond earshot, I glanced up at him.
“The Vampire Council of Elders wants to see you?”
“A complication I’d hoped to avoid,” he admitted, his expression still tense. “The Council oversees everything. My absence from certain responsibilities has apparently been noted.”
“And those responsibilities are…?” I prompted.
“My maker, Elliot, holds one of five seats on the Council,” he said. “As his only descendant, I’m expected to stand in his place during his illness, which I never asked for. I’ve avoided politics for decades because I can’t stand the faux outrage and constant backstabbing.”
“And our ‘engagement’ complicates things,” I guessed.
“Tremendously,” he said. “But that doesn’t change our course.”
The certainty in his voice, his refusal to be deterred, sent an unexpected warmth through me. Whatever barriers arose between us and our goal, Damien wouldn’t yield.
Neither would I.
Marcel stood near one of the animated ice sculptures, watching us with undisguised interest as we passed. I refused to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his presence, keeping my gaze forward.
“We have what we came for,” Damien murmured, his hand cool at the small of my back. “Best to make our exit now.”
“Agreed.”
We made our way toward the grand entrance as fast as we could without appearing suspicious, my smile strained as the urgency of our new information pressed on me.
Just as freedom seemed within reach, the crowd parted to reveal Marcel directly in our path, his timing too perfect to be coincidental. How he got in front of us so quickly I had no idea.
“Leaving so soon?” he asked. “The night’s festivities have barely begun.”
“An urgent matter requires our attention,” Damien replied.
Marcel nodded in false understanding. “Of course, of course.” His gaze shifted to me and sharpened. “I do hope our paths cross again soon, Ms. Rookwood.”
Why did that sound like a threat?
“I wouldn’t count on it,” I said with a sweet smile.
Marcel chuckled. “Safe travels. I hear where you’re headed, it’s particularly treacherous this time of year.”
He didn’t know we were headed to the Darién Gap. He couldn’t know, yet my blood chilled.
Damien stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Marcel with a single fluid movement that placed him in front of me. Though he didn’t touch the other man, the effect was as clear as if he’d physically shoved him backward.
“Your concern is noted,” Damien said, his voice dangerously low. “As is your surveillance of Luna’s residence. That ends tonight, understood? Or shall we discuss the matter more thoroughly outside Selene’s truce boundaries?”
Marcel’s smirk faltered. “No need for threats between professionals.”
“Not a threat,” Damien corrected him. “A courtesy. The next time I find someone watching my fiancée, I won’t bother with conversation.”
Marcel stepped aside, his casual demeanor forced. “Until we meet again.”
We continued past him, maintaining our hurried pace until we reached the entrance hall, where valets stood ready to summon our car. Only when we were inside the vehicle, privacy shields activated around us, did I release a shaky breath.
“You’re a man of many talents,” I said, studying Damien’s profile as our car pulled away. “You almost made Marcel pee his pants.”
He glanced at me, some of the hardness melting from his expression. “I’ve had ample time to perfect many skills. Diplomacy is merely one of them.”
“And the others?”
He smiled, not the practiced one he’d been wearing all evening, but something darker. “Let’s hope Marcel doesn’t force me to demonstrate.”
I found myself smiling back, strangely comforted by this glimpse of the predator beneath his polished exterior. “Do you think he knows everything?”
“No,” Damien said, his expression growing serious again. “Not everything.”
I closed my eyes briefly, visualizing the map Selene had shown us. In my enhanced state, I could still see every detail with crystalline clarity—the five locations, the cryptic symbols surrounding each, the connecting lines that suggested a certain sequence or relationship.
“We need to leave for the Darién Gap immediately,” Damien said, already reaching for his phone. “I’ll arrange a private charter to Panama then specialized transport to the border region.”
As he made calls, his voice shifting between English and Spanish, I gazed out at the New Orleans night, the city lights blurring as we sped back toward the Repository. My thoughts circled around everything we’d learned, including the five locations and the cryptic warning from Selene.
The Shadow Fang was clearly more than just a powerful healing artifact. It was the center of a web of ancient politics, prophecies, and magical consequences that stretched across centuries.
Selene’s parting words echoed in my mind: The Fang’s healing comes at a price. Be certain you’re willing to pay it before you proceed.
What price? And was I willing to pay it, whatever it might be?
The answer came without hesitation: I would pay any price.
I only hoped I wouldn’t discover too late that the cost was more terrible than I could imagine.
“Mr. Cross?” The voice came over the car’s loudspeaker.
Damien hit a button on the side door, his entire demeanor shifting to alert readiness in an instant. “Go ahead.”
“I don’t mean to alarm you, sir,” the driver said, “but I think we’re being followed.”