One of her coven members – a tall witch with silver-streaked hair – grabs Zephyra’s arm. “My lady, please.” Her voice is low but carries enough authority to make Zephyra pause. “He’s not worth it.”
The winds gradually die down as the other witch whispers something in Zephyra’s ear. I catch fragments about “playing into his hands” and “exactly what he wants.”
Zephyra’s magic settles, though her eyes still burn with fury as she slowly sits back down. Her coven member keeps a steadying hand on her shoulder.
There’s a sound from across the room, and I shoot a look at where Kara is half out of her seat. As she notices the attention she’s getting, she settles back down, her expression shuttering. But not before Lucien looks her way, too. His gaze lingers too long, and something dark and primal stirs in my chest. The way he looks at her – like she’s a prize to be claimed – makes my fangs ache to descend.
Control yourself.
I force my fingers to relax when I realize I’ve bunched them into fists. Half a millennium of discipline shouldn’t crumble because of one witch. But when Lucien takes a step in Kara’s direction, my body tenses, ready to move.
“The Blackwood line has always been…fascinating,” Lucien says, his voice carrying that oily undertone that sets my teeth on edge. “Such raw power. Such potential.”
Kara meets his gaze unflinchingly, chin lifted in defiance. The air around her rolls with barely contained magic, and for a moment, I see what Lucien sees – that fierce spirit, that untamed power. It calls to something in my blood.
But where I want to protect, Lucien wants to possess. I’ve seen that look in his eyes before, right before he destroys something beautiful.
“Stay away from her,” I growl, the words escaping before I can stop them.
The theater falls silent. Lucien turns to me, eyebrow raised in mock surprise. “My, my, Marcus. Have you developed a soft spot for our witch friends?”
I rise slowly, deliberately. Every vampire instinct screams at me to challenge him, to rip that smug smile off his face. The wood beneath my fingers splinters completely.
“You know,” Lucien continues, taking another step toward Kara, “I’ve always wondered what makes some witches’ blood more…compatible than others.”
My vision edges with red. One more step and-
“Enough!” Arabella’s voice cuts through the tension. “That’s enough from all of you.”
“My Lady, I—” I begin.
“I said that’s enough, Marcus Nightshade.” Her voice is icy. “Sit. The fuck. Down.”
7
Chapter 7
Kara
IwatchasMarcussinksto his seat, his expression thunderous. When he looks my way, I lower my eyes. I’m not sure I feel comfortable with this role he seems to have taken on as my protector.
Or nursemaid.
But right now, I’m more annoyed with the lean, dark-haired vampire who’s standing in the center of the circle.
Lucien fucking Marlowe.
I can’t believe the nerve of the man. The absolute freaking nerve! It’s taking everything within me to stop myself from blasting him with a disintegration spell.
Evil. He’s pure evil. And he revels in it. From the casual confidence of his stance to the cool smirk as he runs his eyes over us.
He thinks this is a game. The bastard!
My fingers dig into my palms, nails biting deep enough to draw blood. The copper scent makes several vampires turn their heads, and I force myself to unclench my fists. I feel nausea spike as I notice one of them lick his lips.
Control. Must maintain control.
“The attacks follow a clear pattern,” Seraphina states, gesturing to a map that has materialized in the air. Red dots mark each incident, forming an unmistakable spiral. “These are coordinated, not random.”
