Until the Melody Ends (The Oylen City #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

“Merciful goddess, he’s here.”

The vampire at my side straightened, running a hand through his sandy brown waves and adjusting the diamond pin in his cravat.

Lord Gerald Montag was a loyal patron and doting even.

I’d been employed at Risqeu lan Serang for a little over six months and, though in that time I’d had many clients and gained the notoriety of being “the jewel of the Souzterain,” it was Gerald who always came back for more.

It was Gerald who offered small gifts and paid Juliette Searah, the madame of Risqeu, so he could take me on outings.

Like the monthly ball held at Eamon Azad’s estate.

It wasn’t particularly surprising that Lord Azad was here.

It was his house—mansion—after all. Juliette, or Jules as she’d urged me to call her when I’d first been hired, always spoke highly of the lord, as he’d patronized her blood den for as long as it had been open.

But Lord Azad rarely frequented the den these days, or so she’d explained in passing once when I was first hired.

Vampires of his age so rarely needed the blood.

She was here, somewhere, in the crowd, along with her daughter Lilith, who I liked very much.

We’d become inseparable in these last few months and, though the vampire at my side vibrated with excitement at the realization our host had graced us with his presence, I scanned the crowd for dark, wild curls.

“Fuck. All right, here he comes.” Gerald wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me closer the way one might adjust a necktie.

I caught sight of Lilith first, walking beside her mother into the opulent ballroom dripping in candles and gold.

Both were outfitted in similar dark red gowns, though Madame Searah’s was a little newer than Lilith’s and her shoulders were covered in a black mourning shawl.

My friend had insisted upon tailoring her mother’s old gown instead of buying a new one.

Though I rose to my tiptoes, I was too short to see through the throng to the vampire who led them.

Gerald hoped to make Lord Azad’s acquaintance—it was the reason he’d come to Risqeu lan Serang in the first place.

Many vampires within Oylen had a sort of hero worship for the ancient immortal.

The fact was evident in the reverent looks of those around us and the way some bowed or curtsied so low they were in danger of lying prostrate on the floor. One would have thought he was a god.

If the rumors were true, he had been made by one.

The party must have reached the dais because, after a moment, the orchestra began once more.

Gerald ushered me onto the ballroom floor, pulling me into perfect formation.

I couldn’t help but smile and relax just a fraction.

My mother had tutored me in all the high-class dances of Oylen, going so far as to teach me the languages of Flourisant and Kysol.

From a young age I’d understood that my life was destined for far greater places than the outer city beyond the ramparts.

I wished sometimes it could have been for a reason other than my beauty, that perhaps I would be recognized for my intelligence or talent.

But my mother had said more times than I cared to admit, A woman’s greatest gift is her ability to wield many weapons, and there is none sharper or deadlier than her beauty.

Perhaps that was why I lacked so much magic, why there were times I was sure I possessed none at all.

Such a thing was common among my kind, witches—magic was dying out.

But when music was involved? That was when I thought I knew the feeling Lilith often spoke of when she commanded her power.

Warmth hummed beneath my skin, aglow with the possibility of something far beyond myself and this world.

Gerald released my waist, turning me out toward the crowd as we flowed seamlessly into the second half of the dance.

My cheeks heated to see the appreciative looks thrown my way, the bright eyes sliding from my throat to my breasts, down to the simple blue gown I’d saved up to purchase with my first few payments from Risqeu.

Madame Searah had offered to buy it for me, as I would bring in more business to the den, but I’d refused, just as I’d refused Gerald’s offer.

To be in debt to another was a dangerous thing.

My vampire companion for the evening smoothly pulled me back into his embrace. He wasn’t unpleasing to the eye—to be honest, I had yet to encounter a vampire who was—but I found my attention wandering as he leaned down to press a kiss to my throat.

It was Madame Searah I saw first, standing on the first step of the dais, her silver-threaded black curls drawn back into an elegant twist at her pale neck.

She was whispering into Lilith’s ear, gesturing toward the dance floor, and my friend caught my attention before waggling her brows.

I bit back a laugh. Perhaps Gerald misinterpreted the quiet noise as one of pleasure as he moved to the other side of my throat.

That was the first time I saw Eamon Azad.

What I noticed was not his imposing stature or shiny black hair.

It wasn’t the power radiating off him like heat from a stone left out in the sun on a summer’s day.

It wasn’t even the gorgeous suit he wore, perfectly tailored to his strong frame, down to the sapphire half cloak flipped back over one shoulder.

His eyes were what I noticed first. Citrine and gold, swirling together around black pupils, the corners just barely lined with hints of good humor. Kindness, that was what I thought I saw—a kindness that was rare in vampires.

And those eyes were looking straight at me.

Less than a moment later Gerald pulled away for the final turn, drawing back in to dip me and pressing his lips once more to the pulse point on my throat.

He was hungry—his rumble gave him away as he withdrew and bowed.

I curtsied, taking a deep breath to prepare myself for us to find a quiet spot for him to feed.

“Shall we give our thanks to our excellent host?” Gerald murmured, but it wasn’t truly a question and he guided us through the dancers without waiting for my reply.

I could not help but look up at the dais as we approached, but I tried to find Lilith instead of the vampire whose gaze I could feel against my skin like a caress. My friend’s lips were twisted into a grin, hazel eyes glittering with amusement.

“Serang lan nauth, Lord Montag,” Jules greeted us with a warm smile. She was in every way her mother’s opposite. I’d had known Solange Searah for a few months before she passed and, where the older witch had been cold, sharp, and formidable, Jules was unendingly kind and warm.

Even now she checked in with me as Lilith greeted the vampire with a curtsey and press of her fingers to her lips. I gave her a small nod of reassurance I was fine while Gerald straightened from his shallow bow.

“Have you yet had the pleasure of Lord Azad’s acquaintance?” Jules gestured to the vampire standing above us.

“I have not.” Gerald practically vibrated with excitement as he turned toward the immortal and bowed so deeply his nose almost brushed our host’s shoes. “Gerald Montag. It is an honor, my lord.”

My curtsey was just as low, fingertips brushing my mouth as I murmured the ancient greeting customary for vampire patrons, the one Jules had just issued.

A golden-brown hand appeared in front of me.

Heat rushed through my veins as I tentatively placed my palm against his, the cold sending a shiver up my arm.

“And you?” His voice was deep, like the rumble of thunder after a lightning strike.

I kept my gaze fixed on the floor as he helped me to stand. Usually, this shyness was an act, a way to ensnare my patrons, but not now. Lord Azad was like the sun, his attention a searing heat, and I feared I might become blind if I looked into his light.

“Adrienne Valois, my lord,” I answered his perfectly shined shoes.

A knuckle touched beneath my chin, gently drawing my face up until I had no choice but to look at him.

I expected to see what I always did when others looked at me: a desire for my blood.

The desire was there, but beneath it all was an odd sort of worship.

Lord Azad looked at me the way I’d seen my brother, Louis, look at our small neighborhood statue of Amayah before he’d pledged himself to her service.

Unbidden, the memory of my brother’s face when he’d been dragged from her temple and back to my parents flashed through my mind before I pushed it away.

Lord Azad’s thumb brushed my chin, the tip following the curve of my bottom lip, before he dropped his hand in favor of brushing his mouth across my knuckles. “Serang lan nauth, Mademoiselle Valois.”

My throat dried as he rose to his full height and warmth flooded my cheeks at the intensity of his stare.

Before I could respond, Gerald leaned forward, his grip on my waist tightening.

“Mademoiselle Valois is my personal…companion.” His voice dripped with pride, as if he was showing off a prized stallion.

Lord Azad’s brows ticked up. I kept my face blank—I was not Gerald’s personal companion, though there were immortals who paid exorbitant amounts of oyista to dens for exclusivity with a particular blood giver.

Regardless of present company, it was frowned upon to exclaim openly that one drank from a living source in fear one of the Covenant’s spies was close at hand.

The lord of the house exchanged a brief look with Jules before giving Gerald a bland smile. “Well, she is quite a jewel, Lord Montag.”

It was not the first time I’d been called such a thing, but the compliment slipping from this immortal’s lips burned across my cheeks even as it turned my stomach and thickened my throat.