Page 31 of House of Royals

As I look around the room, everyone is suspicious.

The House hosts this party every year, Rath had said. I can only assume that every one of them attends their own party.

I wonder, if I weren’t wearing this mask, if my face weren’t hidden, how many people would recognize me for who I am? How many people here would be afraid of me? How many would look at me with disdain and condemn me for the sins of my father?

Is what he did really a sin? It was the town that attacked in the first place, after all. My father had done nothing wrong. I’m not sure how I would have reacted if I’d seen my only brother so brutally murdered and then put on display for all to see.

A waitress with the faint yellow glow in her eyes of a Bitten offers me a glass of wine. I take it without realizing what I’m doing, so I don’t drink it. I need to be as clear minded as possible tonight if I’m going to survive.

Fifteen minutes pass, and finally, the crowd shifts, and I notice the nine ornate chairs at the front of the hall. Sitting in the center one is a masked Jasmine Veltora.

To her right is a black man in an ornate suit and a simple black mask. In another chair is a severe-looking young woman in a tight suit. There’s another young man. And then I see the man who caught me walk back into the ballroom. He wipes at something in the corner of his mouth before taking his seat. The two are unmistakably brothers, even with the masks on.

“Awesome party, huh?”

I spin around to the voice behind me.

There’s a guy there, probably a little bit younger than me. He’s holding a plate with an assortment of food. His smile is bordering on comical, and I can smell weed on him. He’s high as a kite and one of the perky, happy kinds. And of course, he wears a jester’s mask.

“Yeah, some party,” I say, looking around the crowd.

“You should try the food,” he continues. “It’s to die for. I am so hungry. Well, I should be so hungry.”

I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but the kid turns and walks away.

I work my way further and further into the crowd. Couples surge and dance and kiss and smile and laugh. I find myself feeling caught up in it all. This is glamorous and from another time and place than the one I come from.

My view to the thrones opens up again, and I see another woman take her place. She’s thin, but looks strong, with short black hair and glowing skin. And her dress is amazing.

Except for the two small red dots on her sleeve.

I try to remind myself why I’m here tonight. Why I’ve walked into the nest of those that are coming after me. Why I have this feeling inside of me like I have to warn them about what happened at Ian’s house.

Why am I here?

Because when you’re backed against the wall, you have to turn the tables and find a way to break through the wall at your back.

The song comes to an end and suddenly there’s the metal screech of an unhappy microphone.

“Sorry about that.” I turn to see a middle-aged man standing up on the stage with the band. He wears a suit and his mask has been pulled up on the top of his head. Crows feet stretch out from the corners of his eyes, and he smiles brightly. A beautiful woman stands beside him. “Thank you for coming out tonight,” he continues. And it hits me—this man must be Mayor Jackson. “We hope you’ve had a wonderful time. We thank Miss Voltera for the wonderful evening.” There’s fear in his eyes as he raises a wine glass in her direction. When I look back at the mayor, I notice Sheriff McCoy standing just off the side of the stage, watching the party with disdain. “Enjoy this last song, and have a safe night.”

The partygoers clap, happy, excited, and all too ignorant.

That is when I lock eyes with the man who caught me earlier again. He gives another coy smile and stands from his seat. My heart drops into my stomach when he starts toward me.

He touched me earlier. He’s a vampire. I’ve caught his attention. And there’s no way this can end well.

I’m so stupid. So stupid.

“How about that dance?” he says when he finally reaches me. His eyes are hungry, in multiple ways, and I just know that he wiped blood from his mouth earlier. He extends a hand out to me.

“Sorry, but she’s already been claimed for this one.”

I turn as heat rises inside of me.

Ian stands just behind me. He wears a tuxedo, fitted and formed to his body. His hair is styled, not its usual wild action mess. A simple mask covers his face. His shoulders are tense and his eyes are filled with death.

I swear I hear a hiss and turn to see the man behind me filled with as much hatred. His eyes flash brilliant red. And for just a second, black veins rise up on his face.

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