Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I rolled over, tucking myself under the covers, the blanket of sleep still holding me tight as I imagined what it would be like if he really were here. Arms around me, grounding me, protecting me, and ensuring not even my mind would betray me.
7
AJAX
“They’re calling it a home invasion gone awry,” Lachlan said quietly as we walked across the courtyard to the Domum.
“Even though not a single thing was taken?” Zachariah arched a brow at the second-in-command.
“And you wonder why we’re doing more than hunting bloodmad vampires in this century,” Zachariah answered.
The payment for eating evening repast in the relative solace of the residence was the one day a week Alek asked us to eat with the nobles, and it was time to pay the piper. At least he didn’t make us dress up. Benedict might be wearing one of those three-piece suits he liked, but the rest of us were rolling in our leathers, boots, and an assortment of shirts.
I favored the Henley style. The fabric of this century had the kind of stretch I’d longed for the first few centuries of my life, especially since I wasn't exactly the smallest guy in the room. Zachariah enjoyed the crisp lines of a button-down with no tie, Dagon liked short-sleeve shirts—black, of course,—like the rest of us—and Talon was wearing a T-shirt from a band called Pink Floyd.
In deference to the setting, most of us only carried a weapon or two. My Sig was holstered at my hip, and my dagger sheathed along my right thigh. I might have enjoyed the modern convenience of guns, but I was still more comfortable with a dagger.
Then there was Saint, who looked like he’d just stepped out of one of the Matrix movies, sans trench coat. He practically dripped weaponry, as if there were a chance Samuel might walk around the corner and present himself for execution.
Ransom had blinked when we’d presented ourselves for repast, but Zachariah stepped in front of Saint and everyone was smart enough to keep their mouths shut.
If my brother wanted to deck himself out like he was a one-man army, then so be it.
“Maybe it’s for the best that the police are so quick to assume it was a home invasion,” Talon said as we approached the massive glass doors of the Domum. “The last thing we need are non-Conclave humans stumbling into this war.”
“Good point,” Alek noted before walking in with Lyric on his arm. The rest of the assassins filed in, and then we hunters stepped into the pristine hallway.
This place was as formal as the residence was comfortable.
Every aristocrat halted, moving to the sides of the hall as we passed, bowing as Alek and Lyric passed.
“You can walk up here with us, you know,” Ransom said over his shoulder. “We don’t think you’re inferior, for fuck’s sake.”
“Inferior?” I replied, grinning widely in the middle of our informal formation. “You think we let you go first because we feel…inferior?”
“Arrogant ass.” Dagon grumbled.
Talon flat-out laughed.
Ransom’s forehead puckered as we turned the corner into the glitzy ballroom, his hand on the small of Olivia’s back. “I don’t get your meaning.”
“Put him out of his misery, Ajax,” Zachariah ordered, a slight smirk curving his mouth, all of us walking down the center aisle between the perfectly spaced trestle tables full of stumbling aristocrats, hurrying to stand as we passed by.
“We take the rear because we’re more experienced in combat and better capable of protecting the king’s back,” I answered, my grin only growing at the indignation in the combat-master’s face.
“That’s…” Ransom’s mouth dropped.
“True,” Zachariah supplied. “True was the word you were looking for.”
“Close your mouth, dear.” Olivia reached up and gently closed her mate’s mouth for him. “We’re in public.”
Talon laughed harder, and we climbed the few steps of the dais, taking the closest seats as the other vampires—and Valor—filed down the long table.
“It never bothers you that Zachariah doesn’t sit at the king’s right?” Dagon asked in a low whisper from my left as we pulled our chairs closer to the table like the spectacles we were.
“If it doesn’t bother Zachariah, it doesn’t bother me,” I answered, keeping my voice equally quiet.
Zachariah shot us a look from the other side of Talon that said he heard what was being said. He’d perfected that look over centuries of leading our peculiar family, and it usually meant we were in for a lecture later.
“You know what bothers me?” I said as the talem began serving our plates and filling goblets with the canned shit none of us preferred. The scent of it hit my nose and my stomach twisted with nausea. “Feeling like I’m in a zoo.” Every aristocrat tended to look at us with a healthy mix of respect and fear, and an annoying fascination that gave us almost no privacy.