Page 28 of Sleepless Beauties
I buy myself some time to think by taking a sip of wine.
My tongue curls back from the liquid the very second it touches my lips. The thickness of it alone is enough to turn my stomach.
Because it’s not wine.
It’s cold blood.
Oh my God, is it their blood? My eyes dart to the two shirtless men. So many thoughts race through my mind:Spit it out! No! Swallow that shit! Swa-llow. It!
I have to sit here and freeze this fucking charming smile in place as the chilled blood soaks into my tongue like battery acid on a sponge.
Until I’m finally able to swallow it down.
My throat constricts. My lips curl within the plaster of a smile I hold in place, and it nearly comes out my fucking nose as I hold in my cough.
Never once does my smile fall.
Acessa waits patiently and enthusiastically for my reply the entire goddamn time.
“Beautiful. As. Aa-always,” I grunt out, trying hard for effortless poise, but sounding more like an alley cat with a bad coke problem instead.
The snorting sound of Prey’s laughter shakes through the room, but Acessa and I continue to smile pleasantly at one another.
“Ah, I wish I could go. I do wish I can leave our home soon.” She keeps chatting while I flash my attention to Rival, who just looks as impassive as ever.
Why don’t all the vampires leave this place?
“How was Markin and the European den?” Acessa asks.
Ah… yes. Markin. And the other Euros… Um. Well...
Fuck.
“He was the same old Markin,” I give a little insider-joking-laugh at the end of that vague little remark and thank the ever-loving fuck that Acessa laughs along with me.
Prey snorts annoyingly once more, and I want nothing more than to break his nose so he never gets to make that arrogant sound again.
Why the hell did no one brief me on absolutely anything besides shoes, posture and handbags?
“Do you want to rest, Darling?” Rival asks so intimately I nearly blush.
I can’t do that. Nope. I can not allow blood flow to rush anywhere, north or south. None. Can’t do it.
I dip my head low and sweep my sweating palm across my cheeks in an attempt to steal away the warmth in my face.
Fluidly, I slip down from the table and stride toward the man who is apparently so devoted to my sister.
It feels like a violation of some girl code for me to be snuggling into his side as he takes my hand and leads me deeper into the bowels of the church.
“Rest well,” Acessa says kindly from across the room.
I bow my head to her with a smile as I leave.
Prey walks slowly behind Rival and I, giving us plenty of respectful space.
He’s so good at being bad, and yet so perfect at being a vampire’s assistant.
How is that possible?
