Page 63 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

The other guard nodded in two directions, and Azriel pivoted on his heel to follow each. Emillie stood against a wall on the far side of the dance floor with a beautiful, round-figured Rusan redhead. Emillie’s hands, buried in the Rusan’s hair, kept them entangled as their mouths wandered from lips to jaw to neck. The redhead’s hands, however, wandered. One kneaded Emillie’s breast while the other had pulled the Caersan’s dress high enough to leave nothing to the imagination—particularly when Emillie tilted her head back with a low moan.

Not much farther back in the room, Camilla could only be half-seen. While she had been wise enough to keep to the shadows, it was not enough to hide her secrets. The way she straddled the vampire in the corner with her skirts hiked up and hips rocking, little guesswork was required.

If anyone worked out who they were…

“What the fuck, Madan?”

“They look to Ariadne,” Madan said, glaring at the perpetrator at the dartboard, “and she’s been completely unmanageable. I was hoping that you could help with that.”

“I’m not your fixer.”

“And I’m not a fucking babysitter!”

“How have you made it this far if you can’t control three Caersan women?”

Looking ready to slam Azriel’s face into the bar counter, Madan stood to his full height and bared his fangs. “They’re grown-ass women. This is not my job. I’m here to keep them safe.”

“You call this safe?”

Madan snarled. “Are you here to help me or berate my incompetence?”

A smirk cracked across Azriel’s face, and he crossed his arms. “So you admit it.”

“What?”

“You’re incompetent without me.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Madan said, but a grin curled the corner of his lips. “Just help me.”

Azriel chuckled and nodded. “Focus on Camilla and paying their tab. I’ll get the sisters.”

With a nod, they parted. Madan hurried to the shadowy corner as Azriel crossed the dance floor to the two women. It didn’t take long for the Rusan vampire to notice his approach and retract her tongue into her own mouth, hands dropping to her sides. Emillie, however, continued her prowl across the Rusan’s throat, fangs dragging across skin.

“Miss Harlow.”

Emillie froze. Turned. Paled.

“It’s time to go.”

She looked across the room at Ariadne, still playing darts, and chewed her lip.

Stepping into her line of sight, he crossed his arms over his chest. He dropped his voice in a low rumble. “Now.”

“Em?” The Rusan looked at her, worried. “Is everything alright?”

Emillie took her hand and squeezed—a motion Azriel thought to be special between her and Ariadne. “Yes. I must leave…for now.”

“From this place?” Azriel gestured around himself. “You must leave forever. Want to see each other again? Go to Laeton Park. With a chaperone.”

“But I—”

“Meet me outside, Miss Harlow.” Azriel gave her a meaningful look. “Don’t make me carry you out.”

For the first time since their introduction, Emillie glared at him. Maybe Madan was on to something when he said they were being difficult. Nonetheless, she turned and spoke quiet goodbyes to the Rusan. Azriel stepped away to give them a moment of privacy, then turned to Ariadne.

The Rusan man playing darts with her stood at her back, chest almost pressed against her. She shifted, putting space between them, and took a drink before throwing. The tip stuck just center of the outer ring. Before she could throw the second dart, the Rusan shifted to help her line up her hand and gripped her wrist to do so. Ariadne’s reaction, though slowed, was as he’d always seen. She shrank away and turned to face the man with wide eyes.

Azriel was by her side in a heartbeat.

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