I am unsure if that’s what Jaxson wants. If it is, he is certainly taking his time.
“Why not?” Misty furrows her brow. “If Vane wanted me the way Jaxson wants you, I’d jump at the chance. You just need to put yourself out there, Desi. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”
I turn away, concealing my unease. Misty doesn’t know that Prince Vane, Vyvyan’s heir, is my sire. She never will. A part of my agreement with Vyvyan, when she permitted me to stay at the Nest after I became a vampire, was that I would keep my sire’s identity a secret. Instead of becoming Desiree Bathory, I remained Desiree Dunn. I had a place to stay as long as I kept my mouth shut. So far, I haven’t had any issues keeping my most embarrassing secret to myself, and I intend to keep it that way. My friendship depends on it. Thoughts of Vane ignite old anger, flaring red at the edges of my vision, but I shove them aside. I asked him to Turn me, but what happened afterward was utterly humiliating.
“Desiree, are you okay?” Misty asks as I wipe down the counter. “Did I overstep? I thought you seemed interested given how much you’ve been texting.”
I pause. I hate lying to her, but I don’t have a choice. “No. It’s fine,” I say, shoving the anger aside. “You did nothing wrong. It’s just that?—”
The bathroom door bangs open, revealing a vampire dressed in a skin-tight latex skirt. “Desiree, darling, the queen is asking for you in her private chambers,” she announces.
“Why?” I blurt out, struggling to keep my voice steady.
Queen Vyvyan never invites us to her quarters. Everyone in the Nest has designated roles, with Vyvyan and Vane leading the way. If we get into trouble, she publicly exemplifies us in the throne room. This is how she has maintained order for centuries. Having the Eurynomos daemon judge guilt and administer punishment keeps her hands clean.
The vampire glances up. Her eyes are so heavily made up that I’m surprised she can even open them. “You know better than to question Vyvyan. Now, unless you want a spanking, I’d suggest you traipse that cute butt of yours downstairs. You know how impatient she is.”
I force a smile, telling myself not to panic. Am I about to get into trouble? I wring my hands together and reach for my cleaning supplies.
“Leave it,” the vampire says. “I’ll take care of it.”
“I’ll save you a seat for breakfast, Desi,” Misty offers.
The other vampire looks at her. “Vyvyan said you were supposed to go with her.”
Misty and I exchange furrowed looks. Why would Vyvyan want to see us both? A chill settles deep in my bones as Misty mouths, “Phone,” to me, her eyes darting to where I’ve hidden the device. I cover the spot between my breasts.
If Vyvyan knows about the phone, I must protect Misty. She shouldn’t suffer because of my mistake. I’ll say and do whatever it takes to take the blame.
As I navigate the candlelit corridors beneath Little Death with Misty, I try to compose myself through steady breaths. The path leads to a heavy door flanked by several imposing vampires.
I squeeze Misty’s hand. “Whatever happens,” I whisper, “I’ve got your back.”
She nods, but confusion and fear battle in her red eyes. I swallow hard.
Queen Vyvyan’s chambers are carved into the bedrock deep beneath the Iron Parthenon, imbuing the space with an ancient gothic splendor. Burgundy silks drape luxuriously over a four-poster bed, while centuries-old antiques whisper tales of Vyvyan’s long life. Vyvyan rests daintily on a silk settee at the center of the room.
“Your Majesty,” Misty and I say in unison as we curtsy.
Vyvyan’s piercing gaze is fixed on us.
“Desiree Dunn and Misty Vosa,” she says, placing her wineglass of blood on a glass table. “How kind of you to join me.”
This summons was far from optional, but I nod stiffly. Angering Vyvyan would mean angering the entire coven.
“Is everything—” The door behind us swings open, and my words fade away.
The air shifts, and every nerve in my body ignites. Vane. I don’t need to turn to know it’s him; my traitorous body recognizes his presence instantly. Goose bumps cover my exposed arms and legs from his weighted gaze. Vane lingers behind me. His silence is likely because of me. We do our best to avoid each other.
“What are you waiting for, an invitation?” Vyvyan barks.
Vane strolls past me.
With a deep breath, I look up. The last time we were in this room together, he confessed to Vyvyan that he regretted Turning me, shattering my heart with casual cruelty. Vyvyan sat in the same place she occupies now, shaking her head.
“Where have you been?” Vyvyan snaps.
“I went out for a walk,” Vane replies, pouring himself a glass of blood. His shoulders are tense in his crisp black dress shirt.
