Page 63 of Born Free

I allow my expression to slacken. I stop chewing.

Ugh. Can’t we just get this over with? I do not have the patience right now for acting and banter.

Orlando crooks a smile, one that indicates he thinks he’s got me in a panic. “The Born were never meant to rule. After betraying Cyrus all those years ago, the five sons condemned their descendants to a life of commonality. The right to rule must be born into your blood through Dorian or Malachi. Mason. Elena. You. None of you have that right.”

I take a step back in the kitchen.

“Considering that my brother has that right, though, and he loves you, I might have overlooked it,” Orlando says as he continues his slow stalk toward me. “But it is that damn party that I cannot forgive. And I just learned that it never would have happened were it not for introducing you to the population as the newest council member.”

“Orlando, I—”

“I know what was done,” he cuts me off, his expression hardening. “I saw the event with my own eyes. The assumption of power I might have forgiven. But that party…” he shakes his head, and embers spark in his eyes. “King Cyrus values secrecy above all else. Protecting the existence of vampires is the primary job of every Royal. That event? I cannot trust you to my brother, as this area’s new regent, with you making such reckless moves that bring attention.”

“It’s not—”

He crosses the space in a fraction of a second, and I suck in a gasp as something sharp pierces my chest.

“I truly wish it did not have to be this way,” Orlando says softly into my ear as the world grows fuzzy and begins to go black. “My brother loves you with a ferocity that could destroy the whole world. I can only pray he will forgive me for doing what is best for him.”

The world goes dark, and I drop to the ground, dead.

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

Surely my bodywas packed into a cannon, and then the fuse was lit.

I rip through time and space, hurtling back into the land of the living.

My eyes slide open as a groan escapes my lips, an ache in my chest. I rub at it, knocking a bloodied stake off of me. Huh. I haven’t had that one before. Orlando must have left it buried in my chest. Did my body push it out as I Resurrected yet again?

I roll over to push myself back up to my feet when my hand hits a piece of paper lying right next to me. I come into a sitting position and grab it.

Meet me at Roman Nights at 3:00. Stay out of sight. Trust me. Please.

I’d recognize Sebastian’s handwriting anywhere.

He wouldn’t come in and watch Orlando murder me, but he came back inside when the job was done and left me a note.

“What are you up to, Sebastian?” I murmur. I look up at the clock on the wall and see I’ve only got thirty minutes until Sebastian asked me to meet. For a second, I consider simply calling him and asking what the hell he wants. But after the weird way he was acting and the strange things he was saying, I feel like I should just go meet him and get some answers.

I head straight into my bathroom, no time to waste, and rinse off. Blood washes down my body, not even dried yet from when I died twenty minutes ago. I dry, dress in the most boring jeans I have, and pull on a very basic black coat. I pull a hat on low and pull my hair back. This is as good as I’m going to get trying to disguise myself. I’m supposed to be dead-dead.

It’s windy when I step out of my building. I pull my coat tighter around me and set off down the sidewalk at a quick clip. It’s busy today, which is good. I’ll blend in easier. I’m no one in the crowd. Just another body in Chicagoland.

With only five minutes to spare, I cross the last intersection. My eyes scan the entry to the club, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. But there is no one around that I can see. So I walk up to the door and find it unlocked.

The noise of the city instantly muffles as I enter the lobby. Familiar snakeskin walls aren’t quite as dramatic looking with the lights off. I strain my ears, listening for any clues about what to expect, but it’s dead silent.

I walk in, finding the main area of the club totally deserted.

Stay out of sight, Sebastian’s note had said.

I take the stairs up to the third-floor mezzanine. I look around for cover and find it in the form of a cupboard that holds sound equipment. There’s just enough room for me to stand inside, and the venting in the door provides a perfect view of nearly the entire club, all the way over the wall to the main entrance.

The door swings open, and I watch as Sebastian walks in. The expression on his face is dark. Dangerous. I don’t like it. I don’t like the way he was talking.

Trust me, he’d written out.

Can I? Do I?

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