House of Royals(30)

I try to remind myself why I’m here tonight. Why I’ve walked into the nest of those that are coming after me. Why I have this feeling inside of me like I have to warn them about what happened at Ian’s house.

Why am I here?

Because when you’re backed against the wall, you have to turn the tables and find a way to break through the wall at your back.

The song comes to an end and suddenly there’s the metal screech of an unhappy microphone.

“Sorry about that.” I turn to see a middle-aged man standing up on the stage with the band. He wears a suit and his mask has been pulled up on the top of his head. Crows feet stretch out from the corners of his eyes, and he smiles brightly. A beautiful woman stands beside him. “Thank you for coming out tonight,” he continues. And it hits me—this man must be Mayor Jackson. “We hope you’ve had a wonderful time. We thank Miss Voltera for the wonderful evening.” There’s fear in his eyes as he raises a wine glass in her direction. When I look back at the mayor, I notice Sheriff McCoy standing just off the side of the stage, watching the party with disdain. “Enjoy this last song, and have a safe night.”

The partygoers clap, happy, excited, and all too ignorant.

That is when I lock eyes with the man who caught me earlier again. He gives another coy smile and stands from his seat. My heart drops into my stomach when he starts toward me.

He touched me earlier. He’s a vampire. I’ve caught his attention. And there’s no way this can end well.

I’m so stupid. So stupid.

“How about that dance?” he says when he finally reaches me. His eyes are hungry, in multiple ways, and I just know that he wiped blood from his mouth earlier. He extends a hand out to me.

“Sorry, but she’s already been claimed for this one.”

I turn as heat rises inside of me.

Ian stands just behind me. He wears a tuxedo, fitted and formed to his body. His hair is styled, not its usual wild action mess. A simple mask covers his face. His shoulders are tense and his eyes are filled with death.

I swear I hear a hiss and turn to see the man behind me filled with as much hatred. His eyes flash brilliant red. And for just a second, black veins rise up on his face.

But he doesn’t say a word. He turns and walks through the crowd, looking back over his shoulder three times.

I turn back to Ian. Not quite looking at me, he wraps one hand around my waist and takes my hand in his other.

“What are you doing here?” he hisses, pulling me close. His lips tickle my ear. His hand on my waist slips low and his fingers dig into my skin just a little.

The breath catches in my chest and every nerve ending in my body goes crazy. The music surges, and this night suddenly feels too big for me to breathe.

“I’m not lying down and taking a fate I didn’t ask for,” I manage. My fingers cling hard to Ian’s shoulder. I can feel the muscles beneath his clothes tense and tighten. And suddenly, I’m back to the days at his cabin, when he’d come walking out of the shower with only a towel and I pretended not to look. I know what his bare skin looks like, and I’m craving another glimpse.

“They won’t care about a show of good faith,” he says. “Do you have any idea what this party is even for?”

My silence is his answer.

“They throw this party once a year and offer massive amounts of alcohol so that people won’t remember the blackouts that come from being fed on.”

My eyes dart to that door at the back of the room. The blood on the woman’s shoulder. The blood in the corner of the man’s mouth.

“They’re feeding on the party attendees,” I say.

Ian nods. His scratchy cheek brushes mine. “The bite numbs and makes you forget, but people tend to realize they blacked out. A party like this with this much booze, you brush it off. It’s the one time a year they feed freely upon the townspeople. It’s the only way to keep people from asking too many questions.”

It’s terrifying and horrifying, and I’m suddenly wondering if the man was asking me to dance as my turn to be fed upon.

“It’s bad, but I have to do something, Ian,” I breathe.

“Walking into the fire isn’t the way to do it,” he whispers into my ear.

I back away just slightly, just so I can look into his eyes. There’s intensity there. Enough of it to melt me clean through.

“It isn’t your job to protect me,” I say quietly as my eyes drift down to his mouth. “I saw you that night. You were supposed to be sleeping. But you were watching over me. You can’t keep doing that.”

“I can’t seem to help it,” he says as his brows furrow.