Page 16 of Born Free

“Speaking of Houses,” Orlando suddenly changes direction, “have you all had the pleasure of meeting your regents yet?”

Something cold drops into my veins. From the silence and stiffness of those around me, I think I’m not the only one.

“No?” Orlando says, and the look in his eyes tells me he already had the answer to his question. “Well, you all are going to get the wonderful opportunity. I’ve invited Charles and Chelsea Allaway to a party you all are hosting in their honor tomorrow night. The Allaways never could resist a good party. They are very excited.”

“They’re coming here?” Elena asks, her tone a little strained.

“To this very room, to be exact,” Orlando continues, casting his eyes around the space.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow the Royals who rule over this area will be coming into the city where we hide from them. Orlando being here is bad enough, but he’s here for his brother, not on business. He doesn’t have say over this area, we aren’t his charges.

But we are the Allaways’.

“Chelsea is coming?” the one named Santiago asks, an interested eyebrow arching.

“Keep it in your pants,” Javier, his brother, chides. “Trust me, you are not her type.”

“You all ought to be honored and thrilled,” Orlando says in that condescending, feigned ignorant tone, cutting the previous conversation off. “To host a Royal is a rare event. Or are you all too partied out after your… curious event last night?”

My heart stops for two beats.

If anything gives us away as to what we’re doing here in Chicago, it will be that party.

“Any excuse for a party is a good excuse,” Elena says with a smile. Finally, she’s slipping into her best acting. “Have you got all the details planned out yet, or could you use my help?”

“I would be delighted to have your help, Elena Godfrey,” Orlando says, his tone dripping with misogynistic sarcasm.

The lowest growl rumbles in the back of Jon’s throat, and I honestly don’t know what the hell to make of that.

“Then we better not waste any more time,” Elena says as she stands. “Tell me what you’ve got in the works.”

CHAPTERFOUR

The Council goesinto crisis management mode.

The first thought is to contact all the vampires in Chicago and give them a warning about the Royals being here in the city. We could suggest they get out of the city for a while. But it seems more likely someone will end up doing something stupid and get us exposed. Curiosity has killed many cats.

I call Echo and tell her that the blood trade needs to be paused for a few days. Roman meets with his team and impresses the need for extra secrecy, to not be seen as they patrol and watch the movements of the Royals. We contact Sigrid, and she lets all the gifted in the city know that they really need to keep their heads down for a few days.

Mason assigns all of his vampire employees overtime work. If we can keep them occupied, working where they won’t expose anything, that’s a good thing. So long as we keep the Royals out of Godfrey Tower, no one will be any the wiser that dozens upon dozens of vampires come and go from that building every day.

“Remind me of everything we know about the Allaways,” I say as I lean closer to the mirror, applying my mascara.

“Chelsea and Charles are twins,” Roman says. He leans in the doorway of the bathroom, his arms crossed over his chest. He wears a black suit, of course, the top four buttons undone, of course. “Their mother led the House before, but Chelsea killed her thirty-something years ago.”

“Shit,” I say, raising my brows.

Roman nods. “As far as I know, that was the last time King Cyrus was in the country, when he checked to see if Chelsea was his queen. They figured out she wasn’t within a few days.”

“I don’t know if that’s fast or slow?” I question, looking at Roman’s reflection in the mirror while I apply a little blush.

“Fast,” Roman says with a quick raise of his eyebrows. “The Queen doesn’t remember who she is when she first Resurrects. It’s taken weeks before. Months.”

“For having no memory of being part of a Royal family, you sure know a lot,” I say as I dump everything into my makeup basket. I spin around, admiring Roman’s silhouette. I cross the space between us, sliding my hands up his chest until I grip the collar of his shirt.

“Knowledge is survival,” Roman says as his hands cover mine. Hunger sparks in his eyes, and it still amazes me that we’re here. That touching him is on the table. That the intimacy between us runs far deeper than physical attraction.

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