Page 12 of The Mafia Bloodline
I swallowed hard, my voice catching. “Right. The… whole vampire mafia thing isn’t just a metaphor then.”
Viking let out a low laugh, his grin widening. “She’s got a mouth, this one. You’ll have your hands full, brother.”
Lucien shot him a warning glance but said nothing, his attention shifting to Volken. “So, this is your mate.”
Volken’s reply was simple. Final. “Yes.”
The word rolled through the room like thunder, and though no one argued, I could feel the weight of them settle over everything.
Sorcha moved forward then, cutting through the tension with ease. “Welcome,” she said softly, touching my arm. “Don’t let them scare you. They mean well. Mostly.”
“Mostly?” I echoed, managing a small smile.
She winked. “You’ll learn.”
And just like that, the storm in the room eased a little.
But Volken’s hand didn’t move. His eyes didn’t stray. And I could feel the silent message in the steady pressure of his touch, you’re safe,you’re mine, and nothing in thisworld or the next will touch you again.
And for the first time since my father disappeared, since my world fell apart…
I almost believed that safety could exist.
The night deepened around us, but inside Roman and Layla’s mansion, everything was golden light and quiet laughter. The longer I sat there surrounded by them…these impossibly powerful men and the women who loved them, the less the world outside seemed real. It was strange, being here. Safe, warm, surrounded by vampires and yet… not afraid.
Dinner had been more of a feast than I’d expected. The vampires ate…oh, they definitely ate, and they ate well. Platters of roasted meat glistened with juices, bowls of rich sauces and freshly baked bread filled the air with warmth and spice. Wine flowed freely, dark and heady, poured into crystal glasses that caught the flicker of candlelight.
The conversation was a dance of sharp humour, barbed teasing, and bursts of laughter that carried an edge of something wild underneath. It wasn’t just a meal; it was a reminder of what they were, predators, yes, but refined ones. Every movement, every bite, was deliberate, controlled, powerful. I understood that this was how they celebrated survival.
Roman was at the head of the table, his hand never leaving Layla’s thigh. She was radiant even in her calm, her smile soft but steady, the way someone looked when they had already survived the impossible. Lucien was beside Sorcha, his hand occasionally brushing against hers in silent affection. Draugr was at the far end, silent and immovable, but I could feel his watchful presence across the room like a force field. Viking was grinning, charming, and clearly enjoying every chance to poke at Volken.
“So,” Viking said, leaning back in his chair as he poured himself more whiskey. “The demons have been quiet lately. Too quiet. Anyone else feel like that’s a problem?”
Lucien’s sharp gaze flicked toward him. “It’s not quiet. It’s strategic. They’re regrouping. Malakai’s not one to retreat without reason.”
My pulse quickened at the name. Malakai. The man whose trail I’d been following for weeks.
Roman nodded. “He’s still out there. We’ll find him.”
The air shifted. Darkened. I could feel it like a pressure in the room, the way all their gazes hardened at once.
Without thinking, I leaned forward, my heart thudding. “Then I’m coming with you.”
The entire table went still.
Volken’s head snapped toward me, his icy blue eyes locking on mine like a predator catching movement in the grass. “No,” he said flatly, his voice a command that brooked no argument.
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
He didn’t blink, didn’t even breathe. “You’re not going anywhere near Malakai. You’re not going anywhere near the demons. Not now, not ever.”
“That’s not your decision to make,” I shot back, heat rising in my voice before I could stop it. “My father is out there. He was taken because of whatever this is. I’ve been tracking him for months…”
“And almost got yourself killed,” he growled, leaning closer, his voice low and sharp. “You think I’m going to let you walk back into that? You don’t even know what you’re dealing with, Runa.”
My name on his tongue made something in me stutter, but I wasn’t backing down. “You don’t get to decide for me,” I hissed. “You might be a vampire, but that doesn’t make you my keeper.”
His jaw flexed, his fangs glinting in the low light. “No, it makes me your mate.Which means your safety is mine to protect. You want revenge? You want answers? Fine, I’ll get them for you. But you won’t get them if you’re dead.”
