Any reservations I had about wearing such a revealing garment to the dinner with Killian flew out the window. I’ve always felt so powerful when donning a striking attire. My self confidence sky rockets when I look at myself in the mirror, and the image gazing back at me is that of a sultry, self-assured, compelling female, and not the plain, weak and unavailing Fae my sister gaslighted me into believing I was.
I kind of wish I bumped into Blaise on the way to dinner, just to see his face openly lust after me, disregarding the fact that I am clad, floor-length, in the lunar shade he doesn’t like.
Ha, who knew I am as vain as a vampire?
“You are a vision, Aimee,” Nella says from behind me, clasping her hands together with glee.
She glances at the pendulum clock, its hands showing that it is five minutes to eight in the evening.
“It’s time,” Nella says. “I will escort you to the dining area.”
I nod and follow her out of the bedroom in silence.
My fingers are trembling, and I take slow, calming breaths. I am not sure what to expect from this rendezvous. I don’t believe the King plans to harm me, not really, but what will he do when he presses on about my sister, and I have no answers to give?
Trepidation fills my insides as we stride down the hallway, and I frown when we bypass the stairway and continue to a different wing of the castle that I haven’t explored before.
“Aren’t we heading to the dining room downstairs?” I ask in confusion.
“No. The King uses that one more for formal events. You will dine with him in his private chambers,” Nella says.
Oh, fuck, oh, bloody fuck! I was not expecting that. A shiver runs down my spine, not entirely in alarm.
It’s one thing to spend a meal in Killian’s domineering presence in a neutral setting, and quite another completely to be alone with him in his fucking bedroom.
I gulp, my throat seeming suddenly as dry as the deserts of Reweroth, but before I can turn around and bolt, Nella stops in front of a set of massive, obsidian double doors. Not ominous at all! Nope! Uh-uh!
She opens the door ajar, motions me to walk forward, and closes it behind me as soon as I step over the threshold. That conniving little human! I will have to have words with her about this later.
“Umbra!” Killian takes in a sharp breath, devouring me with his darkening eyes. “Fuck, you look magnificent.” His shadows churn at his feet, pulling and pushing, as if they’re longing to reach for me, but an unseen force keeps them at bay. I’m taken aback by his brazen appraisal, so at odds with his aloof persona, and I stumble for a response.
“Thank you?” The words come out in a hoarse whisper, and I cringe at the way the sound undulates higher at the end, turning a simple acceptance of his compliment into a timorous question. “You look okay too, I guess.” I blanch further at my awkwardness. Seriously? Who says that? Foot meet mouth, Aimee!
He chuckles, motioning me to take a seat at the lavish dinner table set next to the window walls.
I glance around the room as I settle myself on the midnight black velvet chair, and my nervousness seems to ease just a fraction at the absence of a bed. Not his bedroom then. Thank fuck!
It looks more like a lounge room of sorts, furnished indulgently with several dark brocade chaise longues, an impressive bookcase filled to the brim with ancient tomes and an elaborate ebony bar, made of intertwining steel beams. It’s an intimate space, and I can almost envision in my mind’s eye an unperturbed version of Killian, unwinding alone, reading one of those volumes from the bookshelves.
“Can I offer you a drink before the food arrives?” He gestures towards the array of bottles stacked on top of the bar, and I nod.
“A glass of wine would be nice. But not too strong, though,” I say as I watch him select a bottle of sparkling wine the color of blush peonies.
I take the time to study him unhindered. He looks more than okay, if I have to be honest with myself. All clad in black as usual, with his crisp shirt half unbuttoned, his trousers clung to his muscular thighs. His raven hair is slicked back, with only a few unruly locks curling around his temples. I’m wary of owning up to the fact that as much as I don’t trust the vampire, I seem to be drawn to him like an ignorant moth to a deceitful flame.
He strides back towards me and offers me the drink before taking a seat across from me at the table.
“I have to acknowledge, little umbra, that I was half surprised you finally accepted my invitation.” He regards me with his cold onyx eyes, and I can almost sense the restraint he practices by postponing the unpleasant questioning that I know will follow. This is not an amicable meeting by any means. He’s just biding his time, treading carefully, to lull my brain into a false sense of security before he dives deep into the real reason we are here.
“It felt inevitable at this point. Might as well get it over with.” I sigh, biting my lower lip in thought. I can’t lie to myself or him forever. Eventually, I will be forced to explain my familial situation, but I can try to keep the gory details to myself. Embellish the sordid truth. Besides, I want to know what his motivation is in seeking Aurora. Will their joining unleash hell on Imiryion, as the prophecy foretells? If his reasons are as nefarious as the entire realm believes them to be, can I live with myself if I have any infinitesimal part in their fruition? Would Aurora choose to fulfill her destiny of slaying him, or would she succumb to the darkness and coalesce with him? Who am I kidding? Aurora is darkness itself. Void, soulless darknessthat sank its claws into my very essence growing up, and keeps torturing me even now, many years later.
“Smart girl,” he snickers in response.
A sharp knock at the door bursts the ever-growing bubble of tension forming between us.
I let out a shuddered breath as human servants pour in, bringing trays upon trays of aromatic foods and a full decanter of rich, deeply colored blood. They all look so at ease in the Vampire King’s presence. Healthy glows paint their cheeks, and their smiles are so serene as they place the meals on the table, and pour Killian a full goblet of blood.
The humans take their leave after placing the trays in front of me on the table. The mouth-watering smell of roasted chicken and buttery potatoes fills my nostrils. I take a bite, and sigh, as the dark vampire watches me bemused, sipping blood from his goblet. After a few more morsels, I put the fork down. There’s something nagging at my brain, so I chance a look his way.
