Page 15 of A Throne of Blood & Vengeance

Dark purple eyes flecked with black locked on to me from across the room. Samara had been allowed to clean up earlier today and change into clean clothing. When I’d arrived to escort her from the guest room, I hadn’t been ready for the sight. She wore a dress made of a deep purple that clung to every one of her curves; the neckline was low enough to show off her ample cleavage, and two slits ran up the sides of the flowing skirt. Every step flashed an obscene amount of thigh.

Samara was the one at war with her body’s biology, yet it had been me suffering on that walk to the dining hall. All I could think about was what it felt like to have my hands on her soft flesh. To hear her scream my name as I thrust into her dripping wet cunt.

I knew she had sensed my arousal because she had taken two deliberate steps farther away from me as we’d walked. It’d hurt, but I couldn’t blame her for it.

Now, her gaze dropped to my lips and the barest smile on them before jumping to the pulse in my neck. Black widened in her eyes, and my own heartbeat picked up as I saw the lust in them. The moment only lasted a few seconds before she snapped her gaze away, the darkness fading from her eyes until they were mostly purple again.

“Messages from Mora and Dominique arrived this morning.” Carmilla swirled her glass of wine. “Both will be coming next week to meet with us.”

“Pray tell, what did you say in the letter to the Heads of House Corvinus and Salvatore?” Samara arched a dark brow at her aunt. “‘Queen Velika lost her head, I’m afraid, but no worries, the crown landed on mine. Please join me for a cup of tea?’”

“That was more or less the gist of it.” Carmilla mimicked her niece and raised a brow back at her. “Despite what you think of my actions of late, I am trying to do what’s best for the Moroi, and I’m being as truthful as possible.”

“Leaving out the fact that if they walk into this House, they’ll leave without their free will seems to bea bitof a big omission.” Samara’s eyes flicked to the crown resting on Carmilla’s head. Faint creases formed between her brows and at the corners of her lips.

“That all depends on them. The crown will tell me what their intentions are. If they willingly kneel, then they will leave with their minds intact.” Carmilla shrugged.

“So you’ll be a generous tyrant.” Samara smiled wide enough to display her fangs. “What a relief.”

What would Carmilla do if the other Houses didn’t voluntarily kneel and fought back against the crown’s control? Velika hadn’t been able to control House bloodlines, but she’d only had half of the crown. What if, even united, it wasn’t enough?

I might have been daft at House politics, but even I knew there were some who would never willingly kneel. Like House Tepes and House Devereux. Surely she had some sort of plan for that? Aside from House Harker, they were the two most powerful Houses when it came to rangers. We needed theirsupport if we were to stand against the wraiths and whatever Erendriel was plotting.

“Don’t be so dramatic, dear,” Carmilla gave Samara a chiding look before focusing on Demetri. “Have you heard anything from your mother?”

Everyone continued on with the conversation, and I remained in the background, listening. Apparently, Demetri’s mother, Marvina, hadn’t replied to any of his messages. Not surprising, since she knew he was here and allied with Carmilla. She was technically in charge of House Laurent . . . and she’d always disliked Carmilla for reasons nobody really understood.

For all appearances, Samara looked engaged and contributed to the talks, often coming up with ways to cleverly insult Demetri, who was growing more and more frustrated as dinner went on. Lucian had refrained from saying anything, just leaned back in his chair sipping his wine and letting the barbed words flow around him.

But Samara’s gaze kept slipping to the crown. I glanced at it. It was a strange creation. I could feel the Fae magic radiating off it, but as far as I knew, Carmilla hadn’t used it on me. At least, I didn’t think she had.

It was more than a little unnerving to think that I wouldn’t know if my mind had been tampered with, but the crown didn’t work as well on those from House bloodlines—or from people who drank from them—and I’d drunk a lot of Samara’s blood recently. I was fairly sure I’d be safe from the crown’s magic if Carmilla tried to use it on me, but for how long, I didn’t know. Something told me Samara wouldn’t be opening up a vein for me anytime soon, so it wasn’t like I could refill my immunity.

Not for the first time, I wondered why the Fae had made the crown. Had they used it against their own people? We knew there’d been a divide between the Unseelie and Seelie, maybe things like the crown were part of the reason why.

Samara had dropped all pretenses and was staring at the crown now, her expression one of concentration. Suddenly, she jolted in her seat, and the chair creaked. The conversation stopped, and all eyes fell on her.

“Apologies.” She reached for her wineglass again. “In the months since our divorce, I forgot how grating it is to listen to Demetri drone on and on about his mommy issues.”

Lucian barked a laugh. “I like her.”

Even Carmilla cracked a smile.

Demetri glowered. “If you keep it up, I won’t bother hate fucking you later when you’re begging for it.”

I took a step forward before I caught myself and moved back. Earlier, I’d spoken with Carmilla and claimed I wanted to be here tonight because I was concerned Samara might do something rash.

Carmilla wasn’t born yesterday, but she’d acquiesced to my request, though she’d made it clear I was not to interfere with the conversations no matter how heated they got. My fingers curled as I imagined wrapping them around Demetri’s neck and snapping it. If he laid one hand on Samara, I’d do it, but when it came to verbal sparring, there was no one better than my dark-haired and clever-tongued beauty.

“Demetri, dear . . .” Samara gave her ex-husband a placating smile. “You’re saying your inside thoughts out loud again. Nobody wants to hear about the fantasies you have while getting yourself off.”

“That’s not what—” Demetri’s face burned red, but he was cut off by Lucian, who cocked his head as his eyes glinted at Samara.

“What if he was the last person in Lunaria? Would you hate fuck him then?”

Samara tapped a finger against her bottom lip like she was pondering some great mystery. I chuckled under my breath,earning me a death glare from Demetri. I smiled at him.Try something, asshole. I fucking dare you.

He looked away from me and went back to fuming in Samara’s direction.

---