The maître d’—a sleek human with a silver streak in his otherwise jet-black hair—led her to a private alcove overlooking a courtyard where a fountain splashed musically. Mael was already waiting, rising as she approached.
“Monica,” he greeted her, his voice a deep rumble that seemed at odds with the gentleness in his golden eyes. “Thank you for coming.”
She gave a small, shy smile. “You sent a lot of um…friends.” He hadn’t just sent a driver with a car. He’d sent a driver and two armed guards.
Mael’s mouth twitched. “My apologies. Security has been heightened since the attack on your wedding to Raziel. I’m sorry you are caught up in the middle of it. And now that he made the decision to turn you and bring you back alive? Everyone iswalking on the edge of a knife. If any other family wishes to make a play for power, now will be the time. While we are all trying to find our footing.”
“I’m sorry I’m the cause of it.” No, she wasn’t. But Monica would be.
“It isn’t your fault. None of this is, from the beginning.” He gestured for her to sit, then took his own seat across from her. He filled the chair completely, his broad shoulders nearly spanning its width. Where Raziel was lithe, predatory elegance, Mael was raw, imposing power.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, genuine concern in his voice. “The transition can be difficult.”
Nadi lowered her eyes, playing her role. “It’s…different. Everything is so intense. The sounds, the smells…” She glanced up through her lashes. He wasn’t the first vampire she’d seduced… “The hunger.”
Mael nodded sympathetically. “It will become manageable with time. Though I must say, you seem to be adapting remarkably well. Most newborns are quite…unstable. I do hope Raziel is feeding you.”
A server approached with a silver tray bearing two crystal glasses filled with dark crimson liquid. Nadi’s stomach twisted at the thought of drinking blood, but she maintained her composure as the glasses were placed before them. “He—he’s doing his best, I think. The best that he’s capable of.”
When the server withdrew, Mael leaned forward slightly. “I wanted to speak with you privately because I’m concerned, Monica.”
“Oh?” she asked, lifting her glass to her lips but not drinking. She’d have to, eventually. Mael would notice if the liquid didn’t disappear. But she could get away with it at first.
“My brother.” His expression darkened. “And what he might be doing to you.”
Nadi set her glass down carefully. “Raziel has been…kind to me.”
“Has he?” Mael’s voice was soft, but there was steel beneath it. “I’ve known my brother for over two centuries, Monica. Kindness is not in his nature.”
She let her eyes flicker down, as if uncertain. “He spared my life.”
“For his own purposes, I assure you.” Mael reached across the table, his massive hand stopping just short of touching hers. “I need you to understand something. The Raziel you think you know—the one who speaks softly, who shares your bed, who saved you from the sacrifice—is not the real Raziel.”
“Then who is?” she asked, allowing vulnerability to creep into her voice.
“A monster,” Mael said bluntly. “He has killed hundreds, maybe thousands, without remorse. You know what he did to the Iltanis. But that’s not all. He has broken the minds and bodies of those who trusted him, those who cared for him.” His eyes held hers intently. “Including his previous lovers.”
She let fear flicker across her features—letting the truth of her own past inspire the emotion. She had seen Raziel’s cruelty firsthand, after all. That was how she was taught to lie—to act—using pieces of the truth.
“I don’t say this to frighten you,” Mael continued. “But I need you to understand the danger you’re in.”
“But why? Why do I matter?” She kept her voice barely above a whisper.
Mael hesitated, then placed his hand over hers. His touch was warm, solid, and strangely comforting—a stark contrast to Raziel’s that always held the promise of sudden violence.
“Because I see something in you,” he said finally. “Something worth protecting. You’ve shown remarkable courage and adaptability. You’ve survived what would have broken mosthumans. And now…” His gaze traveled over her face with a warmth that made her unexpectedly warm. “Now, you might be exactly what this family needs to move forward.”
“I don’t understand.”
Mael withdrew his hand, leaning back. “The family doesn’t trust Raziel. To be truthful, we never have. But now? After his defiance with the sacrifice? Mother has tolerated his…eccentricities…for centuries because he’s useful. But his latest act of rebellion has pushed her beyond patience.”
That was interesting. Very interesting. “What does that mean?”
“It means that I believe Volencia may do something extreme. Or ensure that something extreme happens.” Mael’s voice dropped lower. “Tonight’s council meeting isn’t just about assigning you both a task to restore our standing. It’s about deciding Raziel’s fate.”
She had to fight the urge to lean forward. This should be frightening to Monica. Terrifying, even. Instead, Mael was giving Nadi the answer to all her problems served up to her on a silver platter. This could rid her of Raziel—and her complicated feelings for him with it. “She would hurt her own son?”
A humorless smile crossed Mael’s face. “You saw what she did to him last night. She’s done far worse to him. Death would be a mercy in the long run.”
