Chapter 192

Draken

The desert highway stretched ahead like a ribbon of molten gold in the dying light, heat shimmering off asphalt that had been baking under the Nevada sun all day. I kept my hands loose on the steering wheel of the Maybach, the engine purring with barely restrained power beneath the hood. Beside me, Alaric sat stiff-backed in his crimson suit, the fabric probably worth more than most people's monthly rent, though the thin line of red marring his otherwise perfect cheekbone somewhat ruined the effect.

"I thought vampire healing was supposed to be instantaneous," I said, keeping my tone light, conversational. "Or are you keeping that as a souvenir? A reminder of our little adventure in the warehouse?"

His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath pale skin. For a moment, I thought he might actually admit it—that he'd left the mark deliberately, some twisted badge of honor from surviving an encounter with a dragon lord's mate. Instead, he turned to stare out the window at the passing landscape, his reflection ghostly in the tinted glass.

"Less talking, Draken," he said finally, his voice carrying that particular brand of aristocratic disdain that made my dragon want to tear his throat out. "I thought having a dragon chauffeur would be... enjoyable. Turns out I can't escape your commentary even when you're supposedly under my control."

I laughed, the sound genuine enough that he shot me a suspicious glance. "I'm just curious when a creature that burns in sunlight started craving warmth," I said, letting a hint of heat creep into my voice, into the air between us. The temperature in the car rose by several degrees. "Must be disorienting, wanting something that could kill you."

And you will burn, I thought, keeping my expression neutral. When this is over, when I've torn apart every last member of your cursed family, I'll make sure your ashes scatter in the wind. Consider it a gift—you'll finally get all the sunlight you could ever want.

"Shut up." His hand clenched on the armrest, knuckles going white. "Don't talk about her. Today is important. Focus."

The sudden shift in his demeanor was almost amusing. I raised an eyebrow, glancing at him sidelong before returning my attention to the road. "Well, well. Finally arrived at the day you've been waiting for?"

He nodded, his entire posture changing as we turned onto a private road that wound through increasingly manicured grounds. In the distance, I could make out the silhouette of what looked like a medieval castle, complete with turrets and what appeared to be actual artillery emplacements. Subtle.

"Everyone who matters in the family will be there tonight," Alaric said, and there was something almost reverent in his voice now, all his earlier irritation forgotten. "It's a celebration. The Ascension Plan's success at every stage. Everything we've worked toward."

I had to suppress a smile. Oh no, you haven't succeeded at anything. The steering wheel creaked slightly under my grip as I fought to keep my expression blank. You didn't actually control me. The serum you distributed is already destroyed, every last vial turned to ash or melted slag. And tonight... tonight you've handed me the perfect opportunity to end your entire bloodline in one strike.

Alaric was watching me again, his eyes narrowed in that calculating way of his. "You're thinking about something," he said slowly. "Planning how to torture your mate again? I knew Morrigan's curses were dark, but this..." He shook his head, something that might have been genuine discomfort crossing his features. "Stop fantasizing about killing the woman you're bonded to and pay attention. Tonight, I need your rage focused on my enemies, not your own twisted desires."

I let myself smile then, slow and cold. "Oh, don't worry. I'm very focused." The words came out almost purring. "I've been itching for this. Can't wait to kill every last vampire in that castle."

For once, Alaric's answering smile looked genuine. "Patience. I'll give you your targets when the time comes."

The castle loomed larger as we approached, and I had to admit, it was impressive in its excess. The architecture was pure medieval fantasy, all soaring towers and Gothic arches, but the security measures were decidedly modern. I could feel the layers of protective enchantments woven into the very stones, complex wards that would have turned away any intruder who didn't have explicit permission to enter. Guard towers bristled with what looked like a combination of traditional weaponry and magical artillery. Soldiers patrolled the grounds in precise formations, and I could sense at least a dozen high-level vampires maintaining the barrier spells.

Good thing I have an invitation, I thought, pulling the car to a stop at the main gate. Otherwise even I would have trouble getting through this.

The guards recognized Alaric immediately, of course. One of them—a vampire who looked barely out of his twenties but whose eyes held centuries of experience—stepped forward and began dismantling the barrier with practiced efficiency. The magical pressure that had been pressing against my senses like a physical weight suddenly lifted, and I drove through into the inner courtyard.

The walk from the car to the main hall took us through a series of increasingly opulent corridors. Crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, their light reflecting off marble floors polished to a mirror shine. Priceless artwork adorned the walls—originals, I noted, not reproductions. Apparently, the Sanguis family believed in displaying their wealth.

But it was the other vampires we passed that truly caught my attention. These weren't the foot soldiers I'd seen outside. Every single one of them radiated power, their bloodlines ancient and pure. Lord-level at minimum, dressed in suits that probably cost more than luxury cars, their very presence making the air feel heavier, charged with predatory energy. The scent of their blood was different too—richer, more refined, carrying the weight of centuries of careful breeding.

And every single one of them stopped to stare as Alaric and I walked past.

"Fuck," one of them breathed, not quite quietly enough. "Is that Draken?"

"God," another whispered, his eyes wide. "Even controlled, he's... the aura alone is terrifying."