Page 48 of Born Free

I’m talking with one of Orlando’s House members, though it’s not much of a conversation. She’s just telling me about all the things she hates about America. But my eyes get drawn to the door when it’s pushed open, and my heart drops down into my feet when Sebastian walks through.

He only scans the crowd for three seconds before his eyes fix on me. His expression is dark, serious, very Sebastian-like. He stalks through the crowd, making a beeline straight for me.

“Excuse me,” I say to the woman without looking at her. I meet Sebastian halfway, my heart hammering a thousand miles per minute. “What are you doing here? Trying to get yourself immediately killed? Now most of the vampire community is going to know you’re back in the city.”

He gives me this look, something appreciative and somewhat surprised that I still care. “But that’s not going to happen in this room tonight. No one is going to risk exposure. That would take explanations.”

“I’d sure as hell like one,” I hiss. “What are you doing here?”

“Evaluating this little shit to see if he’s the root of the problem. Santiago thought he could take you, throw you to the king. I’m just here to see if Orlando is the breeder of such behavior,” he says, keeping his tone low and quiet.

“And you’re going to do what about it, exactly?” I ask, absolutely astounded at his audacity and utter lack of fear for his own well-being.

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore, Juliet,” Sebastian says, his dark eyes fixing on me. “Enjoy the party.”

And without a word, he strides off into the crowd.

I don’t have to worry about him anymore, he’s right. But I can’t help it.

I watch as he walks through the party, watching the House members, observing Orlando from the shadows. It doesn’t take long before our local vampires start noticing him. I see it as their expressions darken. As hands curl into fists. They whisper to one another. Tension begins leaking into the room.

But Sebastian was right. Here, in a room with the Royal we are so desperate to get rid of, they can’t do a damn thing. Sebastian is safe here.

My eyes seek out Roman, and I find him across the room, standing in the shadows, watching Sebastian like a hawk. His arms are folded over his chest. I can see every muscle in his body is coiled, and at one little, wrong move, he’ll snap.

“He’s completely lost his mind,” Elena says quietly as she walks to my side. “Showing his face to everyone here.”

I shake my head. “I don’t like it. Something about this feels… calculated.”

“Why am I getting a vibe from him that’s making me want to rip his limbs off one at a time?” Jon asks as he walks up to my side, something protective and dangerous about his stance.

“That would be Sebastian Vincent,” Elena clarifies. “Juliet’s ex-fiancé who put me and two others in this room in a coma.”

An animalistic noise resonates in the back of Jon’s throat, and he takes half a step forward before I catch his wrist, stopping him.

“Not here, not now,” I hiss. “The House will leave after tonight, and then we can deal with shit from the past. Right now, we just have to make it through this night.”

I really don’t want anyone else walking through that door, but it pushes open again, and someone I recognize from Roman’s team walks in, wide-eyed with adrenaline radiating off of them. Wildly, they scan the room. But Roman has crossed the room in three seconds, his eyes fixed on the woman.

“What is it?” he asks quietly, his tone on alert.

“We finally got him,” she says. She seems nervous, but also… excited.

“Who?” Roman demands.

“Norman,” she answers, and Roman instantly stands straighter. He looks over his shoulders, tracking Orlando in the room. When he finds Orlando drinking from a blood bag, swaying to the music with two women on either side of him, Roman strides toward the door.

“Take me to him,” Roman growls.

Oh boy. This is bad, bad timing.

The moment Roman walks out the doors, I turn to see Orlando’s eyes catch sight of Roman’s retreating form. His eyes stay fixed on the door for just a moment in contemplation, and then his feet are moving across the space.

Shit.

“How long is the flight from here back to Spain?” I ask, casually stepping in Orlando’s way.

But Orlando doesn’t stop. With serious, fixed eyes, he steps around me and goes straight for the door. Slightly panicked, I follow after him.

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