Page 55 of Entombed By Blood
Now—not even an hour after the summons arrived—I find myself standing in the entryway to Cain’s New York palace.
The lobby is immaculate. White and gleaming; the total opposite of the Court, which thrived in the shadows that I remember. The immediate difference puts my hackles up, but it makes sense. Why hide in darkness when you own the world?
At the desk along the far wall, a pretty vampire receptionist twirls her long hair around her finger as she flirts with a lycan guard who’s leaning against the barrier between them. His eyes are alight with adoration as he stares down at her. Their antics cease as I approach with my thralls, but he doesn’t move away, sensing the threat my lycans present.
I can’t help scanning the room, searching for Draven. He was summoned an hour earlier—possibly because of his involvement in the incident with Callie—and there’s still no sign of him. His absence is making me nervous, and I have to work hard to make sure it doesn’t show as I approach the desk.
What has my sire done with him?
The vampire blinks her long lashes twice, taking in my clothes. The gown I wear is the opposite of her prim, pale dress, and though her gaze isn’t unkind, I feel out of place again. Like a crow among doves.
“Can I help you?” she asks, taking in our group with an open curiosity.
“Hi, Katie,” Silas says, and I frown—wondering how he knows her name—before I notice the name badge proclaiming her ‘Katie May’ pinned to her shirt. “Lady Evelyn has arrived to be presented to the court.”
The receptionist jumps up and bows. The lycan who was flirting with her earlier quickly echoes the move. “Of course, Lady Evelyn. Welcome home! We’ve been anticipating your return all week.”
“Thank you.” I glance around. “I believe my sire is expecting us.”
“Yes, they’re ready for you.” She presses a button below the table and the metal doors of the elevator slide open with a soft ping. “Please, go right ahead.”
I nod my thanks and head for the lift. My guards follow me, taking up all the space and making it hard to breathe.
The doors seal shut and I ball my hands into fists to quell the shaking, my gut tight with nerves.
I never had a problem with small spaces before Cain locked me in a box for decades. Silently, I curse the fact that there’s one more imperfection I’ll have to hide or Cain will use it against me.
My thralls notice. Of course they do.
“Hey, you okay?” Silas asks, frowning.
“I’m fine,” I mutter. When he gives me a disbelieving look, I sigh and continue, “The last time I walked into the Court, I ended up in a silver box.”
“Won’t happen again,” Vane promises, gruffly. “We’re here.”
For a second, his deep voice comforts me, but then the doors whoosh open, exposing a small, but richly furnished antechamber. I look around again for Draven, but there’s only one person waiting here. Someone familiar. I frown as I struggle to put a name to the face.
“Ivan?” It is him. God, he hasn’t changed one bit.
“Lady Evelyn, it’s good to see you again.” His manners are impeccable, but there’s a calculating frostiness to the way he looks at me. “Your sire wishes to speak with you in his private chamber before you’re introduced.”
He holds open a smaller door set discreetly into one corner. Before I can move toward it, Draven strides out. His expression gives nothing away as he adjusts the cuffs of his uniform, but he nods at Gideon before rejoining the pack.
A quick once over shows no obvious injuries. No limping or bruising that I can see. That rules out Cain wanting to punish him for what happened with Callie. I chew at my lip, desperately wanting to demand an explanation, but I swallow my questions and make for the open doorway.
Ivan bows his head slightly as I pass, but the moment Silas moves to follow me, he holds out a hand. “Lady Evelynonly. The gentlemen are welcome to wait in the court chamber.”
This could well be another test, but I can’t figure it out, and that makes me anxious. Cain wants us separated, and the last time he did that, I writhed in agony for hours.
I don’t glance back at my thralls—I can’t allow myself that kind of sentimental luxury—but I still feel their eyes on my back, waiting for me to make my move.
“Thank you, Ivan,” I say, moving past him into the dark room beyond.
It takes everything I have not to react to the cold darkness. It triggers too many memories of being locked away, but I know, logically, that Cain has always preferred his rooms thus. He has no issue seeing in the dark, and as his offspring, neither do I.
The door closes behind me with a quiet snick that might as well be a gunshot. Everything in me wants to flee, to scream. To do something. Yet, I force myself to stay still and control my breathing. My eyes adjust quickly, and I find Cain pacing the length of the room in front of me.
“Sire,” I bow low.
