“Justin, a displeasure as always to see you. We are hunting the Slayer nightly, which your arrival has set back extraordinarily. If you would like to add more soldiers into the fray of finding the Slayer, please, by all means. Or maybe you’d like to get your hands dirty for once and go out there yourself?”
Warin has a way of getting under these people’s skin and I can’t help but enjoy the show.
Cool lips press against my throat and I can’t help but to let out a soft breath of air. Just the small touch sends a fresh set of shivers down my arms and I’m not sure if I should let the council see how he affects me, or if I should be unaffected by his touch?
I really needed more guidelines on how I’m supposed to act in front of these people. I probably need to figure out how to act around Warin in general. The conflicting feelings of all the dirty things I want to do with him and what secrets he’s keeping are hard to navigate.
“Unlike the lot of you, I have delicious things to keep me busy. I’m sorry that you weren’t notified but I promise it wasn’t because of lack of respect for your prestigious council,” Warin says, planting another kiss against my throat.
The bridge of his nose glides along my neck. The caress feels wicked against my skin. A clear show of how ridiculous he finds these vampires coming into his home and demanding answers from him. Or maybe it’s more?
He flirts with me endlessly, stares at my breasts like they might disappear. He’s attracted to me, but is that all this is?
“Can I interest anyone in a glass?” Samantha says, and I blink. When the hell did she even get here?
The vampires make a mumbled noise of agreement. Warin does not.
“You won’t be toasting with us?” Magnus asks, holding the cup up to his nose.
“It’s like asking me to drink boxed wine. I’ve been spoiled as of late,” Warin says, pushing my hair to the side, his tongue swiping out and licking my throat. This time I can’t help but gasp and wiggle into his lap.
None of the council members drink their glasses, and they’re all staring at us.
Why do I kind of want them to leave and see if Warin would do this without their presence? Oh, Hecate, what is wrong with me?
“Do you think I’d be petty enough to poison all of you?” Warin asks, and I can hear the humor in the way he says it. “Samantha, show them that it is safe,” he says to his progeny and I wonder why he won’t drink the blood.
Samantha takes the lowball glass and takes a big sip. Joyce raises a dark brow at her and Samantha looks like she’s holding back an eye roll as she downs the rest of the blood.
Samantha clutches at her throat and makes a harrowing noise. All the council members are on their feet, before Samantha lets out a laugh, all choking noises stop.
“It’s not poisoned, for fuck’s sake,” she says, putting the decanter on the coffee table.
“This lack of respect is abhorrent. We should take him and the witch for further questioning,” Joyce suggests, motioning in our direction. “There’s no way he actually wants her. She must have some other purpose. Just look at her.”
In a single moment, I’m off Warin’s lap, my ass falling into the leather cushion as Warin is on his feet.
A large crash startles me as the decanter goes tumbling to the floor, blood pooling on the ground.
My reflexes are too slow compared to a vampire. It takes me too long to realize that Warin has broken off a leg of the coffee table and fashioned it into a makeshift stake that is now protruding out of Joyce’s stomach.
“Apologize,” he growls in her face.
“This is ridiculous. You’re threatening a member of the council,” Magnus says, but no one intervenes.
Maybe even Joyce’s co-workers hate her a little bit. From what I’ve seen, it tracks.
“She came into my home, disrespected me and my companion. The stake isn’t in her heart. Though,” he hums, his arms shifting and Joyce’s eyes widening. “It would only take the slightest movement to poke at your wretched little heart, wouldn’t it, Joyce? Apologize.”
I shift in the chair, knowing that I should hate this. That I should be horrified by Warin’s behavior. The act of violence should have me running for the hills. I should be passed out over the spilled blood on the floor and the threat these vampires pose.
Yet, I despicably feel something the opposite of disgust. Maybe it’s part of the game we’re playing, the show we’re putting on for the council. But there’s something so raw and unfiltered in Warin’s gaze as he holds the coffee table leg deep in Joyce’s gut, commanding her to apologize to me.
“You must be using her for some other purpose,” Joyce says, doubling down.
He pushes the wood deeper into her gut and my nails dig into the arms of the chair as I watch his anger rise.
“Are you jealous because she can hold my attention? Because I want her? It’s very pathetic, Joyce. Should I tell you how hard my cock gets when I feed from her? How I feel like I could come the moment my teeth sink into her perfect breasts?”
