Page 81 of Silverproof Damsel

Rhys materialized, along with Mikel, Arryn, and a few other Van Helsings. The moment he was fully corporal, everyone shot to their feet, speaking at once. Closing my mouth, I noted the ticin Rhys’ jaw, his eyes thinning as his head turned, silently noting each male, each injury.

“Shut the fuck up,” Rhys whispered, venom in his tone.

All noise ceased within the room. Not even the clock dared to tick at the violence promised in Rhys’ dark, sinister presence.

“Hunter—” Cole attempted, then stopped speaking the moment Rhys’ head snapped toward where he stood.

“You’d break the laws of hospitality in my fucking home?” Rhys demanded, but his dark head snapped toward Hunter, who held his palms up in the air at the sight of Rhys fully decked out in armor with a sword strapped on his back.

“Wasn’t like that, Rhys,” Hunter started.

“Like what? Like you fighting my brothers in my fucking house? In the apartment where my pregnant mate is?”

“Like a dirty little secret,” Ian hissed, his violet eyes blood-red as he held Rhys’ stare, unafraid of the black orbs glittering with azure within their depths.

“You got something to fucking say, then say it to my face, Vampire,” Rhys growled, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides.

“I just fucking did. No one broke the rules of hospitality other than your brothers.” Ian held his ground, which had Nyota’s full, undivided attention. Hunter noted her line of sight, stepping fully into it.

“It wasn’t a hate crime. We merely said we’d take your sister as a mate,” he stated, causing every single Van Helsing in the room to snarl in his direction. “Well, shit.”

“The fuck did you just say?” Rhys snarled. He sounded like a rabid animal, one who was unleashed from his muzzle. “Say it again, motherfucker.”

“Well, shit?” Hunter offered, which caused Rhys to step up. I shot forward, placing my hand on Rhys’ chest.

Stress pressed against my chest as emotions churned through my abdomen. If Rhys fought them, he’d break the right of hospitality, which he was under oath to keep. The entire room went silent with the tension growing, thickening around us.

Conrad stood to the side with the omegas beside him, whom he silently stepped in front of. It was a signal for them to scurry back, away from the danger Rhys currently posed to them.

Hunter tensed. His hands remained relaxed at his sides, but it was deceiving. Every single male in the room was tense, waiting for someone to make a move. Shadows slowly oozed from the floor. Dark, wispy tendrils crawled up Rhys’ ankles, sliding around his calves before spreading out behind him, forming the shape of giant, lethal wings.

My heartbeat thundered in my ears, deafeningly. My stomach clenched as anger seared through me, raw and putrid. Wrong. Closing my eyes, I fought to rein in my emotions, but the murderous feelings I felt weren’t my own. Realization sank into my head, burning up all coherent thought as my pulse quickened to a precarious rate.

Still, no one dared to move a muscle. The rage churning within me twisted until I wrapped my arms around my middle protectively, afraid of what I felt within my soul. A growl bubbled up from my lungs, expelling past my lips as I stepped back, breaking the pissing contest within the room.

Rhys stepped toward Hunter, forcing a snarl from my throat. “Don’t fucking do it, Rhys!”

He spun around, his angry onyx stare zeroing in on me. “If I were you, I’d shut your lips before you say something we’ll both regret. Again.”

Pain cut through me sharper than any blade he could wound my flesh with. Moisture burned behind my eyes, and anger sizzled through my veins like wildfire burning through a dry,brittle forest parched for rain. Air refused to fill my lungs, as if my throat had constricted to the point of closing off.

Rhys’ head lowered, his nostrils flaring as he stepped closer yet. Cole stepped in front of him. His attention shifted between Rhys, then moved back to me. He opened his mouth, but Rhys made an inhuman sound that had everyone in the room stepping closer, as if they intended to intervene if Rhys moved to harm me.

My chest rose and fell rapidly, even as my hands twisted into the camisole I wore. Tears broke from the precarious hold I held onto them with.

“I can’t do this,” I hissed, turning toward the staircase.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, Silversmith,” asked Rhys, his tone sharp and flooded with violence.

He grabbed my elbow, jerking me toward his frame. I spun, slapping his smug, demanding face as hard as I could. My palm stung from the force of connecting with his cheek. His head snapped to the side, then slowly returned with thin, wispy jet-black lines threading throughout his face.

“Release me, Van Helsing. I’m not a filthy fucking house pet you can kennel or lock away. Remove your hand.”

The muscle in his cheek jumped as his nostrils flared. “I don’t fucking think so.”

“Rhys,” Nyota whispered.

“Something to fucking say, sister?” he asked, but his attention refused to leave my face.

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