Victor inhaled sharply, his hands flexing at his sides. “And yet,” he continued, “the term ‘Blood Consort’ is too archaic, too shallow to describe our relationship. You are my mate, Sage. A position that demands respect and honor.”
I had to bite the retort on my tongue. As Victor’s mate, the last two things I’d ever felt were “respected” or “honored.”
“We are simply using a system that already existed to explain our… situation. A system that, truth be told, many vampires long to return to.”
I was sure they were. What was it about wealth that made someone desperate to abuse those without any power?
Then he stood, extending his hand towards me. “Are you ready?”
* * *
The drawing room was already buzzing with energy when we entered.
The vampire council members and their partners mingled in clusters in the gaudy, ostentatious room, their laughter haughty and unhurried. They raised champagne flutes, the liquid inside too dark and thick to be mistaken for anything but blood. It clung to the glass as they sipped, their smiles baring red-streaked teeth.
I couldn’t help but remember the last time I’d been to a formal vampire event. The night my life as Sage Hexwood officially ended.
I had a feeling something else would be ending tonight, too.
Their attention settled on me the moment Victor guided me inside, appraising and taking careful note of my posture and scent, curiosity curling their lips in amusement.
Their gaze shifted once more when Vorthain entered the room. What had been a jovial atmosphere turned cold, as the vampires failed at deducing exactly what he was, his Magik and designation either something wholly new or so ancient it predated everything we thought we knew about Lundaria.
“Victor,” purred one alpha woman whose face I recognized from the news. She saddled up close to him, her eyes lingering on me hungrily. “It appears you’ve invited some… guests.”
When her long, talon-like fingernail slid down my arm, Victor’s hand snaked further around me, drawing me in close to his side as he bared his fangs.
“No touching,” he hissed.
She laughed off the awkward tension and retreated a step, nodding condescendingly towards Accalia.
I had a feeling Accalia didn’t get along with most of the people in the room.
“Council members,” Victor started. Everyone stopped talking, turning to see and listen to their Premier. “Welcome. I have some introductions to make, for tonight isn’t just another one of our monthly social gatherings.”
Their interest piqued, and those sitting now stood as the rest gathered closer. Eyes shining in the low light, they stared at Victor in rapt attention.
“This is Sage. My mate.”
Shocked gasps sounded, frantic murmurs and whispers following in the wake. Accalia attempted a smile, her eyes pained, as some of the vampires naturally assumed that this meant the end of their marriage while they gave her faint condolences.
The others stared at me with even greater scrutiny. I might never have wanted to be Victor’s mate, but insecurity still ate at me from the inside as I wondered whether I measured up in their eyes.
One of the vampires cleared his throat. “Well, in that case, a heartfelt congratulations is in order, Victor and Sage. Let us praise Sanguiel and Hecara in their wisdom, for the joining of this vampire and witch in—”
Vorthain raised his open hands only a few inches from where they’d been clasped in front of him, silencing everyone. “The gods deserve none of your thanks for this bonding. It’s been broken and weak from the start.”
When Victor didn’t argue, the group grew even more confused, while Vorthain’s identity became even more confusing. Who was this man that could speak for the Premier?
“Because Sage is not really his mate.”
My breath became shallow, cold sweat building at the back of my neck. Victor didn’t say a word in response, facing the council head on, his expression neutral as the dark priest spilled his deepest secrets.
“Victor’s true mate died eight years ago, but her heart beats on inside the witch before you. It was enough for them to recognize each other, and yet not enough for the bond to grow as I’m sure the gods intended.”
Victor lowered his nose to breathe me in, my scent steadying him as our deficiencies were laid bare before the council. A mate bond that didn’t work, and a love that should have never been.
“Mate bonds are real,” Vorthain said. “They are sacred, powerful, and transformative.”
