Garro adds, “Lady Lock is my mistress, Lord Ashfen is my master. Whatever Sephania decides, I will defend with my life.”
The fist at my heart tightens unbearably. I could die from relief. My gaze turns to Lukain, dewy and blurry from the building tears. “What is it y-you want, Lukain?”
He stands, taking up my entire vision, my entire world. “I wantyou, Sephania. I want to join your cause and fight by your side, because I am tired of living under the lies of the Five Ministries. I am tired of not being able to accept who I am, a dhampir bastard born to a vampiress nobleblood and her Silverknight enemy. I am a contradiction, and you are the key to making me whole.”
My chin trembles. I open my mouth to sayyes,unequivocally. So much fuckingyes—
But the door of the conference room bursts open before I can answer. That happens afucking lothere.
Vallan Stellos, in all his gigantic glory and menace, strides into the room.
Skar and Garro are on their feet in a blink, weapons out. Lukain sweeps his silver sword off the table and holds it firm, sliding over the table to stand in front of me in a protective stance.
My trembling chin stops. My dewy eyes dry. I bare my teeth at the huge vampire, looking so handsome and dangerous as he towers over us, standing twenty feet away, having thegallto show himself in this manor after what we’ve learned about him.
Vallan says, “Quite the hostile greeting, comrades.”
I hiss, “We know where you’ve been, Vallan. What you’ve done.”
His head tilts curiously. He lets out a customary grunt, and it pains me how much I’ve missed those wordless sounds in the few days he’s been absent.
“Then I’m sure you’re overjoyed to know you haven’t toppled just one of the Five Ministries in a single evening. You’ve toppled two. Barnabac Craxon is dead.”
Chapter 49
Sephania
Everyone is baffled by Vallan’s announcement. Slowly, the weapons start to lower.
“What?” Skartovius fires. I don’t think I’ve seen him so surprised at anything. “How? He was your master. Even with Sephania’s Loreblood in your veins, no bloodthrall has ever been able to slaughter such an ancient nobleblood.”
“And they still haven’t,” Vall explains. “Overlord Aramastun Wyvox gets the honor, I suppose, for holding the sword that pierced Master Barnabac’s heart.”
Skar can’t believe it. Neither can I, and I don’t even know what the fuck is going on. I never even met Barnabac Craxon, and judging by Vallan’s tone, this was not a surprise to him.
Almost like he’s been playing a long con this entire time.
Still, even with my heart overjoyed and thundering mercilessly in my chest at Vallan’s arrival, it is Lukain I can’t stop glancing at. To know my largest matehasn’tbetrayed our cause, or me, is overwhelming. But to know we’ve gained such a considerable force in Lukain—a man I desperately wanted to be partly good but had given up trying to rescue—pushes me over the edge.
Lord Ashfen, always observant, notices the relief flooding my face. Evidently, he notices something else even I don’t recognize at first. “Temptress, go have your dalliance with the half-blood in peace,” he quips.
“You mean your brother?” I shoot back.
“Half-brother,” he reminds me, frowning at Vallan. “I will get to the bottom of what our large friend here is talking about, and report back to you my findings.”
Vallan’s face sinks, and I know why: He understands he still can’t be fully trusted until we know more. Skartovius needs to verify the truth of his claim—guaranteeBarnabac Craxon is dead—before we can move on from this harrowing experience.
The fact Vall is here reporting all this is enough for me. For now. And Skar is right: There is amuch-needed“dalliance” I need to pursue with Lukain Mortis. And I need to dally right fucking now.
I take the dhampir’s hand in mine, giving him a shy smile as we walk out a side door and hurry down a hallway.
“Where are you leading me, you glorious succubus?” Lukain asks with a chuckle.
I pull him upstairs. Drag him down the hall. Push him into an empty bedroom. Once I have the door shut, I slide my back against it to bar Lukain’s escape. Not that he’s looking to escape this heated moment, when the blood of me is positively itching and burning with need.
“You’re going to give me what you owe me after putting me through so much shit, Master,” I tell him in a dark, spurious tone.
“I . . . am helpless to stop you, little grimmer.”
