No Lady Santos. Not surprising.
"Lord Maximus." Dmitri's voice is accented, formal, exactly as described. He doesn't rise, but he inclines his head, a greeting between equals. "Thank you for arranging this gathering on such short notice."
"Lord Dmitri." Maximus matches his formality. "I appreciate you making time. These are urgent matters."
"So your message implied." Dmitri's pale eyes slide to me. "And this is...?"
"Celeste Moreau. Of my inner circle."
A beat of silence. I feel them all reassessing, not just looking at me, but at what my presence means. A vampire less than a year old, standing beside the most powerful lord in Atlanta, wearing his ring around her neck.
Vivienne is the first to speak.
"My, my." She sits up slowly, a smile curving her red lips. "Maximus's new pet, wearing his collar for all to see." Her eyes drop to the ring at my chest. "How delightfully medieval of you."
A soft laugh from the corner of the room.
The sound slithers across my skin like a warning. One of Vivienne's guards, a tall vampire with a cruel mouth who's been standing near the window. He doesn't step forward, doesn't need to. His voice carries just fine.
"A pet's still a pet, even with a pretty collar." He smirks at me, teeth flashing. "Though I suppose the gatekeeper's little blood whore has to earn her keep somehow."
The room goes still.
Not quiet. Still. The way prey goes still when a predator's shadow passes overhead.
Behind me, the hand on my back disappears.
I feel the displacement of air before I register movement. A rush of cold where Maximus was standing. The whisper of fabric. Then a sound, sharp and wet, like meat hitting marble.
The guard is against the wall.
Maximus has him pinned, forearm crushed against his throat, other hand gripping his jaw at an angle that's one twist away from snapping his spine. The impact cracked the plaster behind them. Dust drifts down like snow.
It happened in less than a second. I didn't even see him move.
"What." Maximus's voice is soft. Conversational. The voice of someone discussing the weather while holding a man's life in his hands. "Did you just call her?"
The guard's eyes are wild, whites showing all around. His hands claw uselessly at Maximus's arm, nails scraping against the suit jacket without gaining purchase. His feet dangle three inches off the floor. He can't move his head, can't do anything but stare into those flat gray eyes.
I've seen Maximus fight. I've seen him kill. But I've never seen him like this. No rage on his face. No heat. Just cold, absolute stillness, like something terrible wearing a human mask.
Something dark and hot unfurls in my chest. Watching him like this, violent and lethal and utterly controlled, defending my honor without a moment's hesitation.
I should be horrified. Should be afraid of the monster I'm seeing.
Instead, I'm aroused.
The realization shocks me. But I can't deny it. Watching him pin that guard to the wall, watching the absolute certainty in his movements, the deadly grace, the possessive rage simmeringbeneath that calm exterior... it's doing something to me. Something primal and undeniable.
The fire crackles. Someone's glass trembles faintly against a side table. Otherwise, silence.
No one moves to help him.
"Maximus." Lord Dmitri's voice cuts through the tension, calm but carrying the weight of centuries. "This is neutral ground."
"Then he shouldn't have spoken." Maximus doesn't look away from the guard. His grip doesn't loosen. "Neutral ground has rules. Respect is one of them."
I can smell fear now. Sharp and coppery, cutting through the woodsmoke and old leather. It's coming from the guard. His terror is a living thing, filling the space.
