Chapter 3 The Monster's Mask
Kaelen's POV
The humans are complaining again.
I don't look up from the contract I'm reading. Around the massive Council table, twelve vampires pretend to care while mentally calculating how to stab each other in the back.
Politics. I've played this game for 847 years. It never changes.
Perhaps we should improve conditions at the blood farms, suggests Stefan, a vampire barely two hundred years old. If we paid donors more fairly
Why increase costs for livestock? My voice cuts through the chamber like a blade. Stefan flinches. The current system functions adequately. Humans sell their blood. We buy it. Simple economics.
Stefan's mouth opens, then closes. Smart boy. He's learning.
Lord Nightshade is correct, Thaddeus Blackwater says smoothly from across the table. His obsidian cane taps once against marble, habit that sets my teeth on edge. Sentiment toward livestock is how empires fall.
The other Council members murmur agreement. They always agree with whoever holds the most power.
Today, that's me.
The meeting drags on. Territory disputes. Blood taxes. Petty squabbles. I handle each issue with efficient brutality, making decisions that keep the peace while reminding everyone exactly who rules this city.
When we adjourn, Thaddeus catches my arm.
The blood auction is in one hour, he says. Will you be attending?
I want to say no. I hate these auctionswatching terrified humans paraded like cattle. But attendance is expected.
Of course, I reply with perfect indifference.
His ancient eyes search my face. You wear your ice well, Lord Nightshade. But ice can crack.
Not mine.
I walk away before he can respond.
The auction hall reeks of expensive perfume trying to mask human fear. Vampires in designer clothes lounge on velvet seats while humans stand on a raised platform merchandise waiting to be sold.
I take my seat in the front row. Not because I plan to buy anyone, but because absence would be noticed.
Lot seventeen, the auctioneer announces. Female, age twenty-six, AB negative blood type, excellent health
A young woman stumbles onto the platform, barely holding herself together. Her eyes dart wildly, searching for an escape that doesn't exist.
She's someone's daughter. Maybe someone's sister.
The thought appears unbidden. I crush it immediately.
Starting bid at five hundred.
Hands rise around me. The bidding climbs fastback, negative is rare. The woman's breathing becomes rapid. Panicked.
Her legs buckle. She collapses unconscious.
The auctioneer looks annoyed. Several vampires hiss in disappointment.
Remove her, I say coldly, my voice carrying across the silent room. Damaged goods lower the auction's value.
Guards drag the unconscious woman away. Around me, vampires nod in approval of my harsh efficiency.
Inside my chest, something twists uncomfortably.
I ignore it. I've been ignoring it for four hundred years.
After the auction, Thaddeus finds me again.
Another successful event, he says, sipping blood from a crystal glass. Though I noticed you didn't bid on anyone.
I have enough donors.
Donors, yes. But what about a bride? His smile doesn't reach his ancient eyes. The Winter Solstice is in three days. You're expected to perform the bonding ritual again. Surely this year you'll finally choose someone.
My jaw tightens. When I find someone worthy, I'll choose them.
You've been saying that for centuries. He steps closer, lowering his voice. The other Council members talk, Kaelen. They wonder why the great Lord Nightshade refuses every potential mate.
Let them question.
Unless, his voice drops to barely a whisper, you're still mourning that unfortunate incident four centuries ago?
Heat flashes through menthe first real emotion I've allowed all day.
Seraphine. He's talking about Seraphine.
If you mention her again, I say quietly, dangerously, Council member or not, I will rip out your throat.
Thaddeus smiles wider, like he's just won something. There it is. A crack in the ice. You do still feel something after all.
I walk away before I do something I'll regret.
Back in my office, I stare out at the city below. Nocturne Heights glitters like broken glass.
My phone buzzes. A message from my head of security:
The donor you requested monitoring on has been warned. Lyra Thorne will attend the Solstice as ordered. No complications expected.
I pull up her file. Twenty-four years old. Registered donor. Selling blood to pay for her sister's medical bills.
Thorne.
The name hits me like a physical blow.
Elena Thorne worked at the Blackwater estate three years ago. Elena Thorne, who had moon blood and disappeared under mysterious circumstances.
Elena Thorne, who Thaddeus almost certainly murdered.
And this is her daughter.
If Lyra Thorne carries the same rare blood trait...
If she attends the Winter Solstice ritual...
My hands tighten until my glass cracks. Wine spills across my desk like blood.
This could destroy everything.
Three days until I perform the bonding ritual.
Three days until I find out if Elena's daughter carries moon blood.
Three days until my carefully constructed world either survives, or burns.