My heart is racing and I can tell it has the attention of every vampire in the room as I listen to Warin’s words. I think about the things he said when he was asleep.
Do I actually have that much power over Warin’s attention?
“You lie,” she seethes.
A growling noise leaves him as he pulls the stake out. It’s high above his head. He’s about to fucking stake a vampire council member for disrespecting me.
The man who hasn’t spoken grabs Warin’s wrist. He looks endlessly bored. His dark black hair in a knot on the back of his head. I wonder if he was a pirate when he was turned, he’s handsome, but nothing compared to Warin.
“That is enough. Joyce shut the fuck up and stop poking at him. Put the stake down and take a seat, War,” the vampire says.
The stake comes clattering to the ground.
Warin looks at me quickly, then down at his bloodied hands. He wipes them on his suit jacket before grabbing me by the hips and placing me back down gently on his lap.
“My apologies, Sebastian. Continue,” he says calmly. Like he didn’t almost kill Joyce.
I think about using our safe word, of saying I’m tired, but my ridiculously curious nature keeps me firmly placed on Warin’s lap, which by some bizarre turn of events is somehow the safest place I could be right now.
Chapter 17
Itap a bloodstained hand on the arm of my chair as my other defiled hand wraps around my witch’s body.
I’ve shown them too much. Joyce is smug as she sits there, her abdomen stitching back together.
“Samantha, dear. Please fetch Joyce some more blood so she can heal faster,” Sebastian says.
Samantha nods, leaving the room. Achille hasn’t moved an inch, just watching the madness unfold from where he stands against the wall.
Sebastian was the oldest and most dangerous out of the five here. Beatrix, I believe, was born in the forties, Joyce was turned before me, I think by a decade or so but I’m not entirely sure. Justin was only turned a decade ago. Magnus may be a century or two old, but Sebastian, I wouldn’t be surprised if he is close to four hundred years old, nearly competing in age with Oz.
“Now is not the time for jealous petulance. It’s clear that his witch means a great deal to him.” He shifts his body, folding at the waist as he looks at Ember.
Fuck, I should have told her that she needs to answer all of his questions. If he tries to use his influence on her and it doesn’twork they will know she has some sort of protective magic on her.
“What is your name?” he asks Ember.
My hand tightens around her waist, her ass shifting further against my lap and I hope that the small adjustment of my body tells her everything she needs to know.
“Ember, sir.”
“Tell me, Ember, why would a witch want to be a vampire's pet?” he asks, a smirk spreading across his face.
Part of me thinks about picking up the coffee table leg and attempting to kill him, but I’d likely lose, and then I’d leave Ember unprotected.
“Are you blind?” Ember asks and I swear a squeak, a fucking squeak, almost leaves my chest.
“Pardon?” Sebastian says, just as surprised as he inches closer to Ember.
“Just look at him,” Ember says, her fingertip drawing against my jaw as her deep green eyes clash with mine. “It’s hard to find a man who can keep up with me, you know?” Her hand falls from my face, interlacing her fingers with the bloody ones spanning her waist. “I can’t deny that I’m not entirely susceptible to his money and charm.”
She’s smooth as butter, but Sebastian’s been around for a long time.
I want to close my eyes and wince as I watch his pupils dilate. He’s putting Ember under his influence, but it won’t work with the ring. The one that only I can see, the one I convinced her to wear on her wedding finger.
“What about your coven, witch?” he asks.
“I’m a nomad,” she says quickly and evenly. If I didn’t know any better, I would assume she’s under his influence.
