Page 39 of Branded in Love
The guests gather near the central stage, where the chairman of the Arts Society pronounces some words of appreciation for our generous donations. We listen from a distance.
As the evening progresses, the number of people diminishes. A low bank of fog sifts through the woods and spreads to the terrace, muting the lamppost’s lighting into a pale amber gleam. Out of the tree-lined pathway, I see the vampire emerge from the fog, like the preternatural demon that he is.
Andrea is not alone. Two vampires walk behind him. In an instant, the unveiled scent of Luciana’s blood reaches the demon’s nostrils and his fiery green eyes fix on us.
My senses pick up as Luciana’s heart jolts into a gallop. My gaze remains locked on the vampire, but my hand glides around her arm.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” she whispers.
I nod in silence.
Andrea halts before reaching the terrace. He would not dream of confronting a shifter in a crowd of mortals. Secrecy is vital for a vampire, as essential to their survival as their obsession for human blood.
A smirk tugs at the vampire’s lips.
I take the champagne saucer off Luciana’s hands and set both on the stone balustrade. Then, holding her hand, we stroll across the terrace.
“Gavriil…” she whispers in a wary tone. “We’re going straight to them?”
“Yes,” I answer in a low, dispassionate tone.
“Oh, fuck…” she says under her breath.
I stare at her, dumbfounded.
“What?” she says, unnerved.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before, is all.” I shrug.
“Well, get used to it.” She bites her lower lip. “Especially if this kind of thing becomes my new normal.”
“It won’t,” I say in reassurance.
She releases a long, broken breath.
“Let me do the talking,” I tell her as we stand a few feet from meeting the vampire trio. I’m sure there’s more, hiding in the shadows, as blood drinkers usually do.
Andrea raises his chin slightly to meet my eyes. An insufferable smirk tenses his lips. He thinks he’s better than everybody, especially better than a shifter.Animals,they call us.Beasts.
“Gavriil Alexeev,” he begins. “The Ursa King himself. Here, in my city.”
“I didn’t realize you owned Rome,” I reply.
He utters a short laugh and looks at his friends. “Well, maybe not all of it.” He shrugs his shoulders. “But a great deal of the city, yes.”
I look down at Andrea and give him half a smile.
Rub it in, demon. This is your hunting ground, not mine. But that won’t stop me from tearing your head off.
Behind me, the lights dim. The gala is over. Only vampires and shifters remain, and one very special human.
“How should we do this, Gavriil?” Andrea asks with aloofness.
“That depends,” I say, scratching an eyebrow. “I would appreciate sparing myself the effort of killing you.”
The vampire chokes a laugh. “You amuse me,” he says. “I’m taking the human, Gavriil,” he says. “I suggest we do this peacefully. As you might suspect, I am not alone tonight.”
In a flash, the blood in my veins burns like liquid lava. Every muscle in my body goes taut with alertness. My breathing quickens. Sasha waits for my signal.
