Page 17

I narrowed my gaze, staring at his temple. A muscle bulged and receded there repeatedly. “The feeling is mutual. Trust me.”

He set his goblet back down. “Anyway, I’m sleeping in your room tonight.”

“Excuse me?” I said, almost choking.

“If the guard, or whoever it is, still isn’t accounted for, I’m sleeping in your room.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah, you’re going to have to have that out with Papa Nic.”

He looked at me, a sly smile on his face. “King Nic loves me.”

I gave it right back to him. “You know who he loves more? Me.”

“I’m sure I can persuade him. I’ll sleep in an inflatable bed on the floor. Don’t worry. I’ll make him see it my way.”

“I can always tell him I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Yeah? How’d that work out for you yesterday? I seemed to remember seeing him outside your door...”

“Oh, suck it.”

At that point, the surrounding chatter decided to die down, so everyone at the table heard my outburst. Mother cracked a smile, but Papa Christian’s face turned red.

Yikes.

Alexei cleared his throat roughly. “What did everyone think about Kai’s weapons today?”

“I loved them,” I said, practically pouncing in the moment Alexei ended his question. Anything to take the attention off me and my ‘suck it’ comment, which took on a whole new meaning when I sat around the table with a bunch of vampires.

While the rest of the table started chatting about the weapons, Alexei leaned over. “I bet you did love Kai’s weapons. You seemed to take a lot of pleasure in it.” He went to pull away but came right back. “Oh, and you’re welcome.”

I gnashed my teeth together. He was the reason everyone heard me say suck it, so he was going crazy if he thought I was going to thank him for “saving” me.

After dinner was served, we sat around talking for quite some time. My gaze landed on each of the potential mates, avoiding Alexei because he was annoying me. Rafe seemed to be opening up just fine. He was in an easy conversation with Kai and Felix. Felix still seemed a little standoffish to me, but he talked more and more and not all of it was him being an asshole. Theo, however, was quiet for a lot of it. He talked with his parents much of the time though he did speak up and say some things when Kai’s weapons were discussed.

His gaze moved up and locked eyes with mine. For a moment, I just stared at him, not caring that he caught me looking at him. That was what this whole thing was about, right? Me trying to decide who I could entrust and bring into my home forever? His brown eyes stared back about as emotionless as you could get. It wasn’t an uncaring look, maybe just a perfectly schooled look that was used to hiding his true emotions. I knew he was a serious person, but he was getting more difficult to get a grasp on.

Papa Christian was the most serious out of my fathers. I’d have to ask my mother how she cracked him, how she let herself into his personal space.

“Princess Izzy?”

I jumped at the interruption and then turned toward Kai. His grin roped me in and I found myself smiling in return. “Yes?”

“I was hoping you might permit me to show the group my tribe’s haka. It’s a warrior dance used in my clan for centuries. We usually only do it during rituals, but since you seemed interested in the blades, I thought you might like this as well.”

“Of course,” I said, not skipping a beat.

He bowed his head and then moved away from the table. He walked around the table and faced us. We turned in our chairs and watched, his mother beaming at him as we did so.

With the low light in the room coupled with his native attire, I could just as easily see him under the stars before a bonfire where he and his people would share this dance.

Kai dropped down into a wide squat. With his head bowed, he started stomping his feet, a steady rhythm that echoed through the large room. Then, he looked up, his face a mask of vengeance and the thrill of the fight. He slapped his hands against his thighs, the sound reverberating through the room.

He was completely transformed. It wasn’t the always-smiling Kai, this was a battle-blazoned warrior. He beat his fist against his chest, matching the rhythm of his feet.

Then, he chanted. The sound a message I didn’t comprehend verbally, but understood it all too well, anyway. A warning. Though I didn’t know the words, I could feel it in everything he did. He punched his fist into his opposite palm several times, a punctuation mark to the staccato rhythm of his growled threats.

I sat there, emotion building inside me. My hands curled into fists as I watched. I understood how this was used to rally the troops. There was something so powerful about it. It was moving. It made me want to get up and yell. It made me want to suit up and run into battle.