CHAPTER FORTY ONE
Ailsa
MY HEELS ECHOED sharply against the polished marble as Leon escorted me though the manor, Davien a looming presence just behind us. The sound bounced off the high ceilings and cavernous walls.
“I really didn’t know,” Leon whispered, and I turned to him, taking in his handsome features.
He was in complete contrast to how he’d been at the club.
His hair was perfectly in place, his facial hair cleanly shaved and his suit was perfectly tailored.
A far cry from the jeans and long loose hair from my memory.
Even the way he carried himself was different, his shoulders squared and movements measured, like every step had been rehearsed.
Looking at him now, it was obvious he wasn’t human.
“Would it have made a difference, honestly?” I asked, dragging my gaze away before I could read too much into it.
“I’d like to think so,” he said, a softness slipping into his voice that didn’t quite match the man beside me. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you, you know. I’ve spent many nights searching the club for you… hoping, praying to see you.”
I scoffed. “Right… because that’s not creepy.”
He let out a chuckle, bright and genuine and so at odds with everything around us that the sound of it caught me off guard. “Just as prickly now as then, I see. I like it.”
“Are you trying to flirt with her?” Davien’s voice cut in from my other side, sharp as glass.
Leon didn’t even hesitate. “I’d never dream of flirting with your girl Dave, you know that.”
“She’s not my girl.”
“Not his girl.”
Davien and I said simultaneously, our voices overlapping in perfect, irritated unison.
“And don’t fucking call me that,” Davien added under his breath, which only seemed to amuse Leon further.
I exhaled sharply, stepping ahead of them, before their bickering could spiral further. “I don’t have time for your fighting,” I said, my voice tight. I didn’t need a damn escort anyway. It was easy enough to follow the flow of guests. “I’m here for Claire, that’s it.”
Neither of them tried to argue, instead they fell into step behind me.
The dining hall revealed itself gradually, opening into a vast opulent space that felt more like a ballroom.
A long table stretched through the centre, dressed in crisp linens and gleaming silver, with smaller replicas of the setup filling the rest of the room and chandeliers dripping with crystal light overhead.
The walls were lined with dark wood panelling and gilded mirrors, reflecting flickers of movement.
There were too many faces, too many eyes.
I scanned the room for a familiar face, but found none.
The guests were… strange.
Beautiful, every one of them, in that unnatural, too perfect way that made my skin itch. Men in tailored suits, women in gowns that shimmered like liquid metal, all of them poised and elegant. Conversations were quiet, measured. Laughter too controlled. Like all of it was staged.
Then the murmur of voices died, one by one, until eerie silence swallowed the space whole.
Footsteps echoed from the hallway beyond.
Then he walked in.
There wasn’t a single breath out of place, the tension was so palpable. Even the air cowered from him.
He was tall and his presence dominated the space. Short dark hair, styled to perfection framing a face that was both striking and oddly familiar. High cheekbones, a strong jaw, lips set in a line.
His suit was black, immaculate, tailored within an inch of its life, clinging to a powerful frame. But it was his eyes that held the room captive.
They swept across the room, taking in everything, missing nothing, and when they passed over me, something inside me twisted.
They were cold and calculating.
But the part that stopped me mid breath was that they were identical to my own.
The same shade of blue.
Holy fuck.
A dark, creeping sensation curled through me, seeping into my flesh, digging deeper with every second that I stood there and taking root in my soul.
The resemblance was startling. Scary even.
And my stomach threatened to empty itself at just how obvious it must have been to anyone who’d laid eyes on me.
I dared a glance at Davien, whose eyes were staunchly on me, his face almost unreadable—that tough, angry mask he liked to wear so much—but I saw through it to see the concern in his eyes.
Fuck him and his concern. He could have told me so much sooner. Would he ever have told me if I hadn’t overheard him and Marlette? Maybe if I'd had more time, I would have been better prepared.
I slowly brought my attention back to him… He who was now busy talking at the room, though I couldn’t hear a word.
I felt Leon’s hand brush against the small of my back, the warmth of it bringing more comfort than I ever wanted to admit because it dawned on me then that I was in a nest of vipers. Sharp teeth surrounded me and they all wanted a piece of me.
I was sure they could all hear my pounding heart.
I needed to get a hold of myself.
Calm the fuck down Ailsa, for Claire.
I took a shaky breath and stretched my palms against my thighs to dry them.
I forced a small smile as I took in this new world around me, with the sinking realisation that I’d probably meet my end at the hands of one of these monsters. I was a fool to think I’d stand a chance.
But I had to at least try.
And that’s exactly what I’d do.
“I trust you’ll join me in welcoming a special guest tonight, one that’s dear to my heart, Ailsa,” his mention of my name spun my attention back to him. He outstretched his arm to direct everyone’s eyes onto me with a creepily bright smile on his face. “It’s so good to finally have you here.”
My confidence dropped momentarily. I couldn’t hold it together when he addressed me, putting me on the spot like that. He had to have been doing it deliberately. Fuck, I was playing right into his hand by responding exactly how he wanted me to. He wanted me to make a scene.
I had to do the opposite of what he’d expect.
So I inclined my head in respect. “I’m glad to be here, thank you for the invite.”
My stomach turned at my choice of words but I needed to show him I wasn’t to be underestimated. Though I refused to smile at him. He wouldn’t get my submission.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said with an unreadable expression. It made me uneasy. We were so alike, but his mannerisms were completely different. “But for now, let’s eat and enjoy the party,” he said, raising his glass of dark red liquid in a toast.
That must have been the signal for everyone to move because all at once, chairs glided back, bodies lowered into seats and then the servers arrived.
They flowed into the room like ghosts, silent and efficient, placing dish after dish along the length of each table.
Plates were set before us, mine a delicate arrangement of roasted vegetables, glazed to perfection, alongside slices of meat that still glistened with juices.
I stared at it, then picked up my fork.
And did absolutely nothing with it.
I nudged a piece of food around the plate, dragging it through the sauce, cutting it into a smaller piece I had no intention of eating. The motions were automatic, something to do with my hands so I didn’t betray how tightly wound I was.
This was all for show anyway.
Vampires didn’t need to eat like this.
A glass sat to my right, filled with something deep red.
I didn’t touch it, not a chance in hell.
Where is Claire?
What had he done with her?
The thoughts looped relentlessly, louder than the quiet clink of cutlery, louder than the murmured conversations beginning to rise again.
My gaze lifted, slowly, taking everything in.
Valerius sat at the head of the table, composed, untouchable, as though the entire world bent to his will without him needing to lift a finger. He spoke occasionally, voice low, measured, and every person who responded did so with careful attention, like they were being judged on every word.
Davien sat further down, his posture rigid, his movements controlled to the point of strain. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the room—off me—for more than a second at a time. There was something simmering beneath his calm.
Leon beside me, played his part well. Relaxed. At ease. Engaging enough to blend in, but I could feel the tension in him through the slight pressure of his arm near mine, the way his attention flickered across the room every so often. It made me wonder if he too wasn’t really with the Ninth.
And then there were the others.
Some were human, I could tell by the way they fidgeted slightly, the way their laughter came a fraction too late, the way their eyes darted when they thought no one was looking. Dressed in fine clothes, seated among predators, pretending they weren’t prey.
Or maybe they didn’t know.
Maybe that was the worst part.
Some of them were like Valerius—too perfect, their presence heavy with something ancient and wrong. I recognised the faces of Besian and Zack and for a moment, I wondered what they’d done with Marlette.
Was she still alive?
Had she met the same fate as Claire?
Was there any hope for either of them?
The atmosphere was suffocating.
My grip tightened around the fork.
I’d had enough.
I slammed my fist against the table, causing the crockery to shake and those around me fell silent. I felt their eyes on me and the hairs on the back of my neck rose at the attention, but I’d had enough of this damn charade. “Where is she?”
There was no need to provide further context. He knew what I meant.
At the head of the table, Valerius didn’t even flinch. If anything, the faintest hint of amusement touched his lips. “Safe,” he said smoothly. “So long as you behave.”
Rage flared hot and fast in my chest.
Beside me, Leon’s hand settled over mine on the table. The gesture was gentle and almost reassuring. I didn’t know whether it was his attempt of comfort, or a reminder that I was trapped.