House of Royals(10)

“Your father was a damn vampire, that’s what,” the mystery man yells back at me. “And you’re going to be one as well someday.”

It takes about eleven seconds for the word to register in my brain and to process what it means.

It takes about four more seconds for the laugh to break from my chest. It builds and builds until I must look completely hysterical.

“Miss Ryan,” Rath says, loud enough to be heard over my meltdown. “Mr. Ward is telling the truth.”

“Come on, Rath,” I continue laughing. “You don’t seem the type to pull pranks, but you got me. It was awful and I think you two might be completely insane, but you got me good.”

“This isn’t a joke,” the man with at least a last name now says. There’s actual offense in his voice. And I now finally register him. I was right, he’s probably only a few years older than me. Wild, slightly too long brown hair on his head. Dark eyes under dark, heavy brows. Thin, serious lips. Intense five o’clock shadow. “Do you not remember how that blood got all over you? That thing was trying to suck you dry before I staked it. Remember how I said I was going to kill you, too? That’s because that bite should have turned you.”

My laughter dies away as my hand once again rises to my neck. I finally look down at myself. My clothes are drenched in my blood. Dirt is sticking to me all over. I’m a wreck. I remember the numbness that took me over within seconds of the pain.

“We’re telling the truth,” Rath says. His voice is kind and quiet. “Your father was a vampire and immortal Born. He spent a night with a human woman, and you were conceived.”

Vampires. Being Born. Stakes.

I want to call bullshit. But what just happened to me had happened.

And these two guys are staring at me without even a hint of uncertainty in their eyes.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I got here?” I accuse Rath. My eyes burn as I look at him.

“Because that was your father’s wish.” He turns from me to a desk against one wall. He takes a key from his pocket and opens a drawer. From it, he pulls a letter. The back of it is sealed with a wax stamp. “He asked me to give this to you when the time was right.”

My hands shake as I take it. The envelope that bears my name—Alivia Ryan—on the front is immediately smeared with my blood and dirt. There’s more weight to it than just a few pieces of paper. There’s something hard inside.

“Rath, you know what this means, right?” Mr. Ward says quietly. “There’s no way the House won’t hear about the attack tonight. They’re going to find out and quickly. They’ll want to take her in.”

“I know.” I look up and see Rath staring straight at me. “We don’t have much time.”

“Look, I can help,” Mr. Ward says, and his voice sounds desperate. “Let me talk to her. Because if the House gets to her first, they’ll manipulate her and she’ll have no real choice of her own.”

“You’re right,” Rath says. He takes a few steps across the room and places his hands on my shoulders. “But first, you need to clean up and get some rest. You look like shit, my dear.”

And his unexpected word drags my eyes up to his.

Rath is cold and quiet and distant. But I see it in his eyes. He doesn’t really know me at all, but he cares about me. And I feel the emotion being reciprocated in me.

“Ian, you’re welcome to stay in any of the rooms on the main level until morning,” Rath says over his shoulder as he leads me from the room and toward the stairs.

“Are you serious?” Ian Ward yells from behind us. “You’re going to cut off the momentum, just like that?”

“Just like that,” Rath says as we step onto the second floor.

I don’t know what to expect from the rest of the night, probably a long study of the ceiling in my room, but I’m curious as hell and scared to death to see what morning brings.





“RISE AND SHINE, PRINCESS.”

My eyes fly open to a face just inches from mine. My instincts wake before my brain and my fist flies to clip the edge of a jaw. A crushing hand wraps around my fist, though, and holds it stationary.

“Nice reflexes,” Ian Ward says as he lets go of my hand and takes half a step away from my bed. “Maybe you have half a chance of surviving the week.”

“What are you doing in my room?” I hiss, swinging my legs out of the bed and taking an aggressive step toward him. It’s when his eyes drop down that I remember that I only pulled on one of Henry’s t-shirts before collapsing into bed after a shower last night.