Chapter 9
We stand at our neighbor’s front door, and for a moment, Malakai seems hesitant to ring the doorbell. I frown at him, noticing the white-knuckled grip he has on the neck of the bottle in his other hand.
“Are you… nervous?” I ask, my tone laced with surprise.
Malakai glances at me from the corner of his eye. “Will you think less of me if I say yes?” His words are a whisper, and the raw honesty in them tells me they are true.
I turn to face him fully, a soft smile on my lips as I step closer until our bodies are mere inches apart. “Of course not.” I catch a glimpse of tension leaving him at this.
“You’re… different out here,” I continue, my voice soft. “Without your chains holding you back. I’m not sure yet what to make of it.”
Malakai chuckles, the sound sending shivers up my spine.
“There’s just one thing…” I raise my hand and place it against one of the lapels of his suit jacket, my fingers sinking into the soft, rich fabric.
He raises an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”
I wrap both my arms around his neck, pulling his face closer to mine, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t lose your wickedness; it’s what I like best about you.”
Malakai’s free hand grips the back of my neck, squeezing tightly. “Is that so?” he purrs, his eyes darkening as I bite my bottom lip, fighting the smile that threatens to appear.
“You’re turning out to be quite wicked yourself, love,” Malakai growls, his voice deep. He snakes his other hand around my waist, the glass bottle cold against my skin despite the fabric of my dress.
Just then, a cough reminds us of our surroundings, shattering the moment.
Malakai sighs as we pull away from each other, turning his head to the woman standing in the doorway—the blonde vampire from last night.
“Désirée,” Malakai says while we untangle from each other, “you look lovely tonight.”
Désirée’s light, dusty-blonde hair flows freely over her shoulders, and her black eyes sparkle with mischief. Her dress hits at her ankles, black at the bottom and fading to blood red at the top. A tight red corset cinches her waist, and a choker with a black jewel adorns her neck.
“Not as lovely as your wife. That flustered look makes her look delicious.” Her lips curl into a small smile as she regards me, hunger clear in her black eyes.
Malakai’s grip on my waist tightens as her gaze roams over me.
A man steps up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders.
He’s tall and as pale as she is, with dark brown hair—bangs parted on one side and pulled down on the other—and equally black eyes.
He wears a black three-piece suit, the waistcoat and tie matching her dress—black on the bottom and blood red at the top.
“What she means to say,” the man says, gently pushing Désirée aside, “is that it’s lovely you could make it on such short notice.”
“I think what she meant is that she wants to eat me.” The words slip from my mouth before I realize it.
Both vampires’ eyes grow wide, and it takes an agonizingly long second before they burst into laughter.
“Oh, I most definitely want to eat you.” Désirée winks, turning on her heels and darting back inside. “I like her already,” she calls as she disappears.
The man shakes his head with a smile and gestures for us to come inside. We cross the threshold into a hallway with white walls, skirting boards, and red oak doors. I raise an eyebrow at the cracked plaster next to the door, so at odds with the immaculate rest of the interior.
The layout mirrors our house, with a foyer to the right and the hallway stretching out in front of us. At the end is a pair of high glass double doors, the wooden frame intricately decorated with floral carvings. Despite the darkness, the outlines of a garden are visible behind the doors.
“She’s bold. Good,” the vampire tells Malakai with a wide smile. “Then again, she has to be to keep up with you,” he adds.
Malakai visibly rolls his eyes at the statement, and the man chuckles at his reaction. “Now, aren’t you going to introduce us?” he asks, just as Désirée reappears in the hallway.
Malakai looks at me, taking my hand. “Elly, these are Alixandre and Désirée de Beaumont, the ruling King and Queen of the Daywalker coven.” He turns to face them. “This is Aeliana, my wife.”
We curtsy at each other, and then Malakai wordlessly holds out the bottle to Alixandre. The vampire accepts it, inspects the label for a moment, and then his eyes light up with joy.
“You sure know how to woo us, Malakai,” Désirée says gleefully as she takes the bottle from her husband. “One day, you must tell us where you find it.”
“And lose the best gift I can give you? I’d rather not.”
Désirée laughs and takes off again, the bottle in her hand.
“There is just one more thing,” Alixandre says, suddenly sounding stern.
Malakai sighs and drops his glamor, his honey skin turning blood red. It catches me off guard, and I gasp.
“They know?” I almost snarl the words, my anger rising to the surface.
“Not of his own will, I assure you,” Alixandre informs me. To my surprise, he sounds sheepish and slightly remorseful.
I look at Malakai, the question clear in my furrowed brow. He told me he sees them as family, but I had no idea it went this far. There’s a slight sting of jealousy, for I was under the impression that I was the only one to know this side of him.
“When they had just turned… their bloodlust got the best of them,” Malakai begins. “They ganged up on me and fed on me. Together. Turns out a glamor is the first thing to go in such a case.”
“You can feed on inhumans?” I ask Alixandre, the spark of anger quickly replaced by genuine curiosity.
He nods. “Though we usually prefer humans. They’re easier to get along with.” He smiles, revealing a pair of pearly white fangs. “Tastes better too.”
Despite the teasing tone of his words, my throat constricts. I swallow while looking back at Malakai. His hand goes to my arm, his fingers gently caressing my skin.
“They’re friends,” he reassures me once more, catching the lingering spark of hurt in my eyes. “I trust them with my life.” The softness in his gaze eases my tension, telling me I can trust them in the same way.
“Aha,” Alixandre interjects, his voice joyful. “You finally admit it.”
Malakai lets out a strained sigh. “For fuck’s sake, Alix. Don’t act like this needed to be said.”
“It didn’t.” Alixandre grins, a playful glint in his eyes. “But it’s nice to hear you say it.” He then proceeds to guide us to the living room.
Malakai tucks me against his side as we follow.
We enter the living room, and my mouth drops open as I forget to blink for a moment.
The space is long and wide, with tall windows wrapping around it from left to right, showing the front yard, the side, and the garden at the back of the house.
The garden is a beautiful traditional French country garden, illuminated by strategically placed lamps, casting a soft light through the greenery.
There are no curtains in the living room, which intrigues me since they’re vampires, and this definitely lets in a lot of sunlight. Plus, the front of the house looks the same as ours, with normal-sized windows, which doesn’t match with the inside.
Stepping inside, Malakai not letting go of me, I take in the space itself. The living room has a single white wall separating it from the hallway, contrasting with a black tile floor. We walk by a long dining table, and the wall next to it holds a bar with a large mirror hanging over it.
I’m barely done discreetly eying the bottles of alcohol from a distance when we reach a large black leather sofa. A few smaller matching single-seat sofas are set up next to it, a dark gray plush rug, and a glass coffee table. The wall there holds a fireplace, with a fire already burning.
I’m starting to believe that inhumans have a thing for fire, and I’m here for it. The crackling of wood burning, the earthy scent, the heat against my skin—I love it. It creates a warm and cozy atmosphere that part of me never wants to leave.
Casting another glance around, I can only conclude that their home is gorgeous, and it’s almost embarrassing how I can’t stop staring.
“Love what you did to the place. I guess the windows are why you needed the glamor.” Malakai nods toward the windows as we take a seat on the sofa. “To keep the sun and any curious stares out.”
“One can’t be too careful,” Alixandre admits.
I keep looking around while they talk, entranced by the space. The open living area concept is beautiful, and I wonder if we could do something similar.
“We can if you want to,” Malakai says, draping an arm over my shoulder.
Alixandre sits down with us while Désirée walks over to the bar for drinks. She grabs a tray and loads it up with four glasses, the bottle we brought, and a second one for Malakai and me. After bringing everything over, she pours us a glass from the shimmering alcohol—Dead Man’s Drink.
Désirée fills the two other glasses with the red liquid from the bottle we gifted them and hands one to her husband. “I really wish you would share your source with us,” she says as she smells the liquid in her glass, nearly humming.
“What exactly is it?” I ask, eyeing Malakai.
“Angel’s Blood,” Alixandre and Désirée reply in unison.
“Literally,” Malakai adds, seeing my skeptical expression.
Désirée takes a seat next to me, holding her glass like it’s her most prized possession. “We can drink any blood, but preferences aside, Angel’s Blood is the most potent and lasts us the longest,” she explains.
“You can have preferences?”
“Oh, definitely.” Désirée sighs blissfully. “Everyone is different. Every race has its own unique palate. The underlying tones differ from person to person.”
“Though we try to steer clear of purebloods. The aftertaste tends to be a bit foul,” Alixandre interjects, snickering at Malakai.
“Didn’t seem to bother you before,” Malakai grumbles.