Chapter 77 Empress
❀ Maeve ❀
My arm rose to point in bafflement.
“T-the Matrons…”
Chest heaving, I blinked rapidly, but the scene in front of me didn’t change.
The Matrons/Wardens, stepped out of the coffins with eerie, fluid movements. Eyes pinned on me, they stood in a half circle in the middle of the room.
Only a polished pedestal, covered with more of that black cloth, separated us.
The top of the pedestal pulsed and glowed as though there was something hidden underneath.
When I turned to Nikolai, his expression was still cold.
“Those are the matrons. What are they doing here? What’s going on?” My voice shook.
“The wardens have served Veilmoor for centuries. What are you on about, girl?” Drusilla challenged. She was on her feet now.
My heart beat a frantic rhythm as I registered my circumstances. I was trapped in a room full of vampires, with no exits in sight. Drusilla had mentioned it being in the heart of the castle.
The wardens advanced.
Same formation as the night of the mating ceremony in IronWolf.
The one with pearls around her neck, brown hair sleeked back in a severe knot, glared at me.
“So much rage,” she sneered, gaze blazing.
“No conduit,” came a pitying sigh from the one on her left.
“An echo. A slave,” muttered the second.
Their voices melded into an otherworldly treble.
Then they all gestured. “Come.”
Those were the exact words they’d told me before the mating ceremony, but I hadn’t understood it then.
Rage? Check. Conduit? Was that an option and where could I find one? And echo, slave, of what? Somehow, I knew to dread the answer.
When I didn’t move, they took another synchronized step forward, and I gasped, backing into Nikolai.
“They won’t hurt you. You want to get to the bottom of this, don’t you?”
His tone was dry, flat, and I knew he was still pissed about my mention of Bastian.
I glanced at Drusilla. She was irritated, impatient. Her claws flicked lazily, calculation evident in her piercing eyes.
Then she approached the pedestal.
Taking her lead, I squared my shoulders, ignored Nikolai, and stepped closer as well.
If all I had to do was pass some test and prove I had no connection to their madness, they’d hopefully, let me go. For once.
The pulse of the stifling underground room echoed in my veins, raising the hairs on my nape.
The wardens showed no reaction, but they stared at me more than anyone else. The attention unnerved me.
One of them broke her stare only to grasp the edge of the fabric closest to her. She pulled it off, unveiling the gleaming black pedestal and the polished crimson stone on top.
I sucked in a breath.
Suddenly, the air grew heavier, wavering before my eyes from the sheer power emanating from the stone.
The surface rippled like soft waves on water, yet it glimmered, deceptively solid.
It called to me, pulling me in.
Tempting. I wanted to touch it.
Drusilla’s arm moving over it broke my hypnosis.
Without hesitation, she dug her claws into her palm.
She didn’t flinch, didn’t waver. Her lips pressed tightly together, as if daring an outcome.
The warden who uncovered the stone reached for my arm, and I let her.
Without warning, she sliced my vein open at the wrist.
Mine and Drusilla’s blood hit the crimson stone at the same time, on different sides.
The regent’s blood struck the stone, splitting into heavy droplets as the surface rippled like a living thing. The blood rolled off, trickling to the floor.
Mine hit the surface and hissed. It sizzled and boiled, fogging in the enclosed space.
Startled, I took a step back, but my gaze never left the scene.
As the fog rose, it shimmered like gem particles. The unmistakable scent of jasmine and the metallic notes of blood filled the room.
I looked to the wardens for an explanation, but they had vanished. Without a word.
“Where did they go?” I spun in a wild circle, covering my nose with a palm.
Would my own blood trigger a vision? Make me faint? Why had mine fogged and Drusilla’s hadn’t?
She’d dropped her hand to her side, flesh healed and unmarred, face expressionless.
But I’d been around vampires enough to recognize the seething hate thrumming off her like a heatwave.
When I met her gaze, I cowered, hating myself for it.
Her lips pulled back, sweet and venomous. “Welcome home, Maeve. How does it feel to have an aunt? A kingdom? A crown?”
While I sputtered like a fish out of water, her form faded by degrees.
W-what? An aunt?
“Would someone please explain!”
But Drusilla had traced. I was both glad and peeved.
Why did everyone always vanish right after dropping a mystery bomb in my lap?
Heavy breathing behind me.
Nikolai.
I spun, ready to claw answers from him if necessary.
His eyes were wide, locked on my wrist. It was already healed, but coated with quickly clotting blood.
His gaze was fixed on it, jaw slack, full lips parted.
“N-nikolai?”
He looked every inch a predator, gaze flicking from my bloody wrist to my neck, as if unable to decide his target.
My vampire was starved for me. Ravenous.
If he drew from me in this state… would I survive it?
We were alone in the room now, the red lighting too sensual for our own good.
My own fangs extended, shivers racking my skin. Feeding with Nikolai was always so hot, so carnal. I suddenly missed it more than anything.
His arm should have healed by now. His skin was too pale, his form shrunken.
I pushed the mysteries to the back of my mind. Right now I needed my mate, needed his fangs to anchor me in a way I was familiar with.
I raised my hand much like the Wardens had.
“Come,” I rasped. “I need you…”
My hair blew back from my face with the speed he used to close the distance.
Arms wrapped around me, lips suctioned to my neck, he traced.
The world spun, the air ceasing to exist for a moment in time.
We landed in his bed, silks underneath me, his mighty body covering mine. Arms wrapped tightly around his neck, I drew him in.
My back arched as he licked my pulse point. Savagely. Desperately.
Moaning with abandon, I turned my head to give more access, anticipating his bite.
Craving it.
His breaths were hot against my skin—
Nikolai punched the bed beside me.
Startled, I held on, but his name left my lips tentatively. “Nikolai?”
He did not respond.
His tongue scoured my skin. When I felt his fangs brush me, I shuddered.
But he did not pierce.
He was holding himself back to the point of insanity. Why?
He gave the bed another rocking punch, a growl lodged deep in his throat.
Then he traced.
Stunned, I lay in place, chest heaving, staring at the matte black ceiling with its narrow bands of gold.
He’d left me.
Without answers. Without satisfaction.
A scream built in my throat even as tears welled.
I screamed, and screamed—