He sighs, tracing a finger along the tablecloth in a swirling pattern I can’t decipher. “Since we’re to spend time together and surely address sensitive subjects, I propose informal names to be appropriate.”
“If the standards are equal, I have no objection,Nerian.”
He slaps the table, his mood shifting to jovial in an instant and giving me whiplash. “Excellent!”
I already have concerns about this male’s sanity.
Second shifts in his seat. Apparently, I’m not alone in that.
“Do you enjoy male or female blood more, Veya?” Nerian asks bluntly.
A personal question, but I don’t miss a moment before responding. “I’ve indulged in an array of men, but I can honestly say, I haven’t sampled anything worth savoring.”
Del clears his throat and suppresses a smirk through a sip of his refilled champagne.
The king snorts. “So, female then.”
“I enjoy both equally,” Emmanuel offers.
“In every sense,” Charlotte laughs.
“Look who’s talking,” Emmanuel fires back.
Charlotte shrugs her petite shoulders and bats her lashes before placing her lips around her glass again.
“Straight from the vein?” Nerian asks me, sucking the life from the room.
“Everyone must eat, but there’s still a choice in how we consume, Nerian,” I say sharply.
He laughs. “Thankfully, we’ve solved that problem. There’s no shortage here. Drink up—I’ve procured some of our best for the evening from the cellar.”
Gods, stake me now.
“We don’t drink from the vein, Nerian,” I say to clarify any possible miscommunication.
The candlelight dances and shadows taunt the secrets of Goreon in the extended silence that follows. Nerian’s features darken, and I’m nervous my welcome in his court will be over before it’s begun, and then his words drool out of his mouth: “Just a taste, my queen. I promise I only offer the best.”
The butler door opens behind the king, and he turns his head, listening.
“Ah, our first course. It is my honor to serve you, Veya.”
The king stands, Del rising in custom, and Nerian disappears through the door beside the fireplace.
Del lets out a low whistle, taking his seat again. “Such a tense evening for the supposed betrothed,” he says, silken tone confident and commanding as he traces his finger around the rim of his glass, his thick lip curling to reveal perfectly white teeth.
“They are no such thing,” Second growls across from him.
The males stare each other down.
“Gentlemen, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I whisper, nerves spiking as I wonder what Nerian has planned.
I thought I could get away with sipping from goblets during our stay here, not an outright moment like this testing me and my boundaries.
Our attention is drawn to the Goreon king dragging a human girl through the butler door, her eyes frightened and naked body too lean, ribs bared like teeth against her skin, angry and jagged.
My insides kick, and Iforcemy expression to stay neutral, hiding behind my champagne.
Before I can decide how to handle the situation, Nerian sinks his teeth into her perfect skin, drinking deeply.
