Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Lord Azad was unlike any vampire host I’d met.
At other gatherings I’d been taken to as a blood giver, I’d all but melted into the background with the others. But as we took our seats at the large round table beneath a glittering chandelier, Lord Azad was in conversation with one of the other humans about his most recent visit to Flourisant.
“How did you find the weather?” he asked the male.
The blood giver smiled widely, a flush creeping beneath his freckles. “It was beautiful, my lord. Much warmer than Oylen, though I have to admit the humidity did not agree with my hair.” He gestured toward his bright red curls.
I expected Lord Azad to give some sort of bland response, but he laughed deeply, the sound so warm my toes curled in my shoes, before he gestured for us to take our seats. One of the males lining the wall stepped forward to pull out my chair while Gerald fell into his.
“Thank you,” I said, giving the male a small smile.
He returned it before picking up a gilded carafe. “Wine, Mademoiselle?”
I hummed, sliding the glass a little closer. “Please.”
Before all the humans, beautiful plates and cutlery were set, the gold winking in the candlelight overhead.
The vampires merely had chalices filled with the synthetic blood the Covenant had developed around the time drinking from a living source was outlawed, though most didn’t appear to touch them.
Lord Azad was seated across the table from us, slightly to the right and just visible through the opulent flower arrangement bursting with white and purple wildflowers.
“Eamon, are these from your gardens?” One of the female vampires—Lady Garnier, I believed—gestured to the flowers.
“They are, yes. Stefan enjoys flower arranging and is quite skilled at it,” Lord Azad said, gesturing to a male with cropped golden hair who stood at the far end of the room.
“Oh, Stefan, they’re lovely,” she said, turning to address the human.
Stefan grinned and bowed. “Thank you, my lady.”
“Charlotte is also quite gifted in arrangements,” Lady Garnier continued, nodding to her female companion.
Lord Azad leaned forward, a smile tugging up his cheek. The warmth in his gaze was extraordinary and I couldn’t blame Charlotte’s blush when his attention fixed on her. “Do you have a favorite combination, Mademoiselle Caillat?”
Servers appeared beside each human as she answered, twisting one of her tight black ringlets around her finger and listing off a few flowers, though I didn’t recognize most of what she said.
The food set before me was beautifully arranged, with fanned-out pieces of roasted meat and vegetables curled into blossoms that resembled the ones on the table.
I thanked the male again, who smiled so contentedly I couldn’t help but wonder at it.
Gerald took a generous drink of his goblet, his hand sliding over the back of my chair. I stilled at the graze of his fingertips across the back of my neck. But he was deep in conversation with the vampire beside him, Mateo Auguste, who had referred to Lord Azad in passing as uncle.
For vampires such titles were not reserved for blood relations as humans did, but instead in connection to who was made by whom.
It meant whoever had made Mateo Auguste had been sired by the same immortal who had created Eamon.
But it didn’t surprise me. Lord Auguste was very similar to Lord Azad in temperament; even now he was laughing quietly, pulling a similar sound of good humor from Gerald.
“Ah, yes, the zenyells are one of my favorites as well.” Lord Azad’s voice was not too loud, but I couldn’t help but attune myself to it.
He was resting one arm on the table casually, head tilted to the side as he looked between those he was in conversation with.
“Though I admit I prefer the asiva flowers most. When I was human, the village where I lived was teeming with them. We lived at the base of a sizeable mountain and in the spring, it was a veritable jungle of dark blue and white blossoms painted across the side like the night sky.” He swiped his hand up at an angle to illustrate the vastness of it.
“Where was that, my lord?” Gerald asked, breaking away from his conversation with Lord Auguste.
Lord Azad’s smile dimmed ever so slightly. I wondered if anyone else noticed it—the tightness creeping around his eyes and the way his throat bobbed with a swallow. “Kysol, my friend.” Lord Azad spoke the next words quietly in the tongue of his homeland. “Goddess bless the shores.”
“And keep the winds warm at night,” I finished for him without thinking.
Those citrine eyes darted to me, the dimness moments ago vanishing. “You speak Kysoi?”
My cheeks burned, especially as Gerald shifted uncomfortably beside me. “I do.” I paused for a moment, looking for the right honorific. “My…high son?”
A chuckle slipped through his lips and I fought back a shiver. “Almost,” he said in my language before slipping back into Kysoi. “‘High lord’ would be the correct term, but I would rather you not call me that.”
Damn. I’d known I’d mixed the two words up, syun and sion so similar within the language and dialect I’d learned.
“Impressive, Mademoiselle Valois,” Lord Auguste praised from the other side of Gerald, who was regarding Lord Azad with something like caution. “How did you come to learn Kysoi?”
The joy of a moment ago shriveled in my chest and I dropped my attention to my plate and the half-eaten meal. “I was tutored in the language, my lord, as well as in Flouris.”
The vampire beside Lord Azad engaged him in conversation and I was relieved when Lord Auguste did not question me further about my education and instead asked after Jules.
For the rest of the dinner I focused on Gerald, whose stiffness eventually softened under my attention.
And though I tried not to look at Lord Azad, the few times I gave in to the desire, it was to find his eyes on me.
The moments were brief, but they sparked through my chest like a lightning strike.
Caution. That was what I must have, and I resolved not to look at him for the rest of the night.
We settled into the same parlor after dinner, my fellow humans a bit more relaxed from the wine—I’d abstained, save for the small sips I had taken with my meal.
As I settled beside Gerald on the couch, the formalities of the beginning of the night fell away.
From the corner of my eye, I observed Lady Tirel sitting in a nearby armchair while her male companion knelt before her.
“Do you mind, Eamon?” she asked in her wind chime voice, white-blonde curls dragging over her shoulder as she turned toward the lord of the house.
He looked between the two, waiting for the male to nod. “Not at all.”
The female vampire stroked her human companion’s face lovingly before drawing him closer, bending to press her teeth to his neck.
Around us, the other couples followed suit.
A ridiculous pang twisted through my stomach as I wondered if Lord Azad would feed, but he only settled himself beside the fire, speaking softly to Lord Auguste, who also did not partake.
“Adrienne,” Gerald breathed, fingertips turning my face to his.
His pupils were blown black. Only a thin ring of brown remained.
I smiled at him in a practiced way, choosing to focus on the diamond in his cravat rather than his eyes.
Yet while I nodded at Gerald and allowed him to pull me closer, I could not help but remind myself again what a danger it was to forget why I was here.
Around us, moans slipped through the room, mingling with the harp played by one of Lord Azad’s staff.
A vampire’s bite could be many things, from agony to pleasure or merely a mild pressure.
Judging from the way the male before Lady Tirel pressed his hips against her skirts in a rhythmic fashion and how Charlotte was settled in Lady Garnier’s lap with one of the lady’s hands vanishing beneath Charlotte’s skirts, it was clear what manner of bites were popular tonight.
I took a deep breath, preparing myself as I always did.
It was a skill I’d learned quickly: to push away the influence of the bite.
Pleasure became merely a soft contentment, like a hum against my skin rather than the consuming ecstasy intended.
Gerald was not actively trying to give me pleasure from the bite, I knew, but his own tended to spill over instinctually into the compulsion.
His lips pressed against the hollow of my throat, teeth grazing across the sensitive skin before pausing above my artery.
I fixed my attention to the candelabra atop the mantel as his teeth found their mark and the first rush of blood hit his tongue.
He groaned, drawing me closer, and I kept my expression blank as I watched the flames flicker on the candles.
The feeling was there, pushing against the quiet place in my mind I kept to myself, but I ignored the compulsion Gerald sent through the bite. I counted my breaths as he drank, allowing his arms to wrap around my waist. When he shifted me closer, my eyes dropped, and a pulse throbbed in my belly.
Lord Azad observed us, an ankle crossed over his knee, chin resting on his fist. Tension rolled off him in waves, but there was a pulsing heat in his gaze as he watched Gerald drink.
His index finger rubbed against his bottom lip and I wondered if he was imagining himself in Lord Montag’s place.
If he was thinking of how I might taste, how I would feel in his arms.
A soft moan slid through my lips and Lord Azad stiffened further.
I’d all but forgotten Gerald, even as he clutched me tighter, hips tilting toward mine.
No, I could only stare at Lord Azad who shifted, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs.
He clasped his hands in front of him. Large hands.
Hands that could wrap easily around my waist, around my throat.
My cunt throbbed and I gasped, the wall I’d so carefully built cracking beneath the weight of his stare.
A low growl slithered through the room. No one else heard it, save Lord Auguste, who turned to his uncle with a surprised expression.
Gerald drank deeper and I scrambled to build back my defenses, even as my clit pulsed and I squeezed my thighs together.
No, no, this could not happen—not here, not with this male at my throat.
A soft touch caressed my face, as if a hand cradled my cheek, but no one stood before me. The invisible hand curled around my jaw, and a soft rumble echoed in my mind.
Let me in.
I blinked at Lord Azad. It was his voice, though his lips had not moved. I wanted to fight it, to rebuild the wall, regardless of its futility. But a familiar pressure was coiling tight, even as fear skittered down my spine.
Let me in and I’ll take it all away.
My whimper was soft, but I nodded, relaxing the hold I had on my mind. In an instant the hand vanished and with it the pleasure. The wall was back in place and I was freed from the compulsion of Gerald’s bite. I trembled, but Lord Azad’s lips moved ever so slightly, his shush quiet and only for me.
You’re safe now.