They exited the stairwell on the tenth floor. Part of the floor had been gutted, forming a sort of common area that branched off to other rooms. At the far end of the space was an enormous bed decked out in luxurious black satin bedding. Apparently this fearsome dhampir was a bit of an exhibitionist as well. This oughta be fun.
The female in question lounged upon an ornate chair that had been elevated on a makeshift dais. From the way she lounged, one shapely leg slung over the arm, Naya had to assume that Siobhan had a flare for dramatics. Naya tried not to roll her eyes as she and Ronan strolled across the expanse of the room. She chanced a look around and noticed that parts of the ceiling had been torn out to expose the iron support beams above. Dhampirs dangled from their perches in the ceiling, lined the walls of the room, and lounged on the floor space. She thought herself a queen, this Siobhan, and she was currently holding court. This was a female who wouldn’t let Ronan go without a fight. Good thing Naya came prepared for just that.
“Ronan.”
His name rolled off of Siobhan’s tongue in a dark, sensual purr that caused Naya’s hackles to rise. Ronan gave her look for look, his expression an impassive mask that gave nothing away. “Siobhan.” His own tone was cold, mechanical, as he said her name. Naya tried not to feel smug that his response lacked any heat. Because when Ronan spoke her name it nearly set Naya’s skin aflame.
“I didn’t give you permission to leave the city,” Siobhan said. Her emerald green eyes narrowed into hateful slits as her gaze landed on Naya for the barest moment. “You realize I’ll have to punish you for it.”
Ronan snorted. “The last time I checked I was no longer a member of your coven, and I sure as hell don’t need your permission to leave the city.”
“I’d say that point is debatable.” Her eyes slid to Naya again and her full mouth tilted in a seductive half smile. “But it appears you’ve brought me a peace offering? I can’t say that I’m interested, but I’m sure she’ll make a nice plaything for the members of my coven.”
An appreciative murmur spread throughout the dhampirs present and Naya bristled. Ronan reached out and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “This female belongs to no creature save me, Siobhan. She’s my mate.”
Siobhan regarded Ronan as she flung her leg from the arm of her chair. The heel of her stiletto struck the floor with a crack as she leaned forward. “You lie.”
“Do I?” His dark tone brought a pleasant chill to the surface of Naya’s skin. “She’s tethered me, Siobhan. You have no choice but to release me from my troth.”
Anger boiled under the surface of the female’s skin. The static charge of it brushed against Naya’s senses. “I don’t have to do anything!” Siobhan’s shriek echoed throughout the building and faded into eerie silence. “I am not subject to vampire law. You sealed your troth with blood, Ronan. You. Are. Mine.”
Naya took a step forward, more than ready to show Siobhan exactly what she thought of her claim on Ronan. He reached out with a staying hand and pulled Naya back, wrapping his arm protectively around her waist.
“What are you?” Siobhan asked Naya. Siobhan’s eyes flashed with silver, her mouth forming a thin, hard line, as she studied Naya.
“She’s mine,” Ronan declared. “That’s all you need to know.”
“Carrig?” Siobhan ignored Ronan entirely. “What is this gutter rat that Ronan’s brought into my coven?”
“A witch, Siobhan.” A heavily muscled dhampir studied her from across the room, his head canted curiously. “Powerful too.”
The male must have been a sensitive like Manny. Not that it mattered. Naya would have gladly supplied the information—along with a demonstration—had she been given the chance.
“The mighty vampire tethered by a lowly witch,” Siobhan said with a sneer. “But powerful?” Her humorless laughter rippled through the air. “You’re too generous in your compliments, Carrig.”
The male seemed unfazed by her chiding. He simply continued to watch the scene unfold with morbid interest.
“You certainly enjoy adversity, don’t you, Ronan? Gone for a little over three weeks and look at you: begging for your freedom when what you should have done was tend to your king’s most recent fuckup.” Ronan stiffened beside her and Naya sensed a coming storm. “Have you seen Jenner? What the transition has done to him? He hunts the members of my coven like a wolf, draining them of blood, fucking anything that walks past him. He’s out of control. A fledgling with no one to mind him. From your own behavior, I can only surmise that being turned annihilates a male’s common sense. You all can’t help but let your dicks and your fangs make decisions for you. You are not released from your troth, Ronan. That female”—Siobhan stabbed a finger toward Naya—“will never know your body.”