Page 8 of Blood Sings (Beyond the Gloom #1)

Elena’s Darklings escorted us to the grand foyer, our heels echoing like gunshots in the cavernous space. Automated blinds covered the windows, sealed out the night, and plunged us into near-darkness. A streak of moonlight filtered through the stained-glass dome high above, painting colorful shadows across the black Venetian plaster and ivory marble.

Ahead, a double staircase wrapped around Dracula’s polished bust, one side leading up to the family quarters, currently cordoned off. The other sloped underground.

Five doorways awaited below: three on the left to guest bedrooms and the cellar, one straight ahead to the dining hall, and the last to the right, leading to a hallway that ended in Father’s office.

We descended in uneasy silence. At the bottom, two purebloods stood guard—Ivan, with a cleanly shaven face and defined jaw, and Gregor, whose scruffy beard seemed to defy the very concept of grooming.

“Mistress, Princess,” they chorused, bowing their heads in reverence.

I acknowledged them with the smallest lift of my chin.

The ancient doors creaked open, their hinges groaning in protest. Great-grandfather Traian’s coven crest—twin silver fangs swimming in a sea of crimson—flashed in the flickering light as we stepped through.

Then it hit me.

Fresh blood.

The scent slammed into my chest like a blow, making my head spin. “Underworld’s tits,” I hissed, feeling my fangs extend in my mouth.

My throat burned. Every instinct screamed at me to hunt, to feed. I squeezed my fists, nails piercing into my palms as I fought for control. Hunger roared through my veins.

Not here. Not now. I couldn’t embarrass myself in front of the Wurdulaks.

Mother, ever the picture of poise, glided forward, the very air seeming to part before her.

No mortals bled in sight, thank Derzelas. So, taking a shaky breath, I forced my features into a mask of calm and trailed after her, drinking in the feast hall.

Mahogany shelves laden with ancient tomes and glittering trinkets lined the walls, interrupted by oil paintings of our ancestors. Above the crackling hearth, a portrait of my infant self, cradled in my parents’ arms, sat atop the mantle.

Sonya and her lovers lounged on dark velvet settees by the fire, silver goblets glinting in their hands. I acknowledged their silent nods but quickened my pace to catch up with Elena. A queen did not linger.

“The lady of the house has arrived!” a boisterous, gruff voice echoed off the walls.

A chair scraped against the floor. Lord Sevastyan, Lev’s rabid dog, rose from the end of the ebony table, his rat-gray leather coat creaking as he straightened to his full height. At nearly six-three, he towered over most in the room.

“Elena, you’ve found her!” His lips twisted into a sneer. “I feared you’d abandoned us.”

His voice was the auditory equivalent of stale blood and spilled rotten guts. An icy tremor ran through my body in revulsion, so I darted my gaze to the lit eastern facade of the Corvin Palace beyond the windows, seeking a distraction.

Snorts and chuckles rippled through the room.

A dozen pairs of crimson eyes fixed their gaze on me from towering wingback chairs. Lev’s inner circle mingled with my family members.

Heat crept up my neck, flushing my cheeks. I scanned their faces, Lev’s absence standing out like a raw diamond in coal. The knot between my shoulder blades loosened, and I exhaled. I still had time to collect myself.

“Beauty takes time, Sevastyan,” Mother drawled, smooth as silk and sharp as a blade. “Perhaps you should give it a try sometime.”

Another round of chuckles erupted from our guests.

“As sharp-tongued as ever,” the lord sneered. “You never fail to impress.”

Katerina’s ruby-red eyes narrowed, boring into me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. Something unsettling churned within her gaze, betraying cunning intelligence, a quick temper, and deep-seated vanity. Every instinct demanded I retreat from Lev’s younger sister, but I stood my ground. This was my house, and I was older than she was. Slowly, intentionally, I raised my chin and met her stare head-on.

“Princess Aurora,” Sevastyan called out, his tone sharp with false politeness. “What an honor to have you grace us with your presence! How busy the filth must be keeping you.” He bent forward in a grotesque parody of a curtsy, his leather creaking obscenely once more.

I suppressed a sneer. What was it with idiots and their awkward, constipated bows?

Mother’s grip on her chair tightened, her knuckles whitening as she offered Sevastyan a smile that could freeze hellfire. “Lord Sevastyan,” she chided, her melodic voice carrying an icy edge that pebbled my flesh. “It’s rare to have so many guests in our home. You’ll have to forgive her. Aurora is a shy child. She’s honored to spend her first century among family. Isn’t that right, dear?”

I nearly choked. What game are you playing now, Mother?

Sevastyan’s gaze raked over me, lingering on my chest with blatant lust. I usually had no qualms about my nakedness, but the hunger in his gaze felt like sizzling oil on my skin. I’d never felt so exposed, so… violated.

“Of course,” I managed, forcing myself to bow low despite the revulsion curling in my stomach. His sharp inhale nauseated me. “I hope you find our home to your liking, my lord.”

I wish you’d choke on that quail egg wobbling in your throat, you leering bastard.

“Elena and Vlad did well downgrading from the old palace,” Sevastyan purred, his voice thick with desire. “Prince Lev will be most pleased. Please, sit with us, princess.”

Rage bubbled within me, pounding in my ears. How dare he speak my parents’ names so casually? As if he had any right—

“Join us, Aurora,” Mother commanded, her tone final.

I complied, my anger simmering like banked embers as I slid into the vacant seat between Victoria and Petru.

Victoria’s face twitched with triumphant glee. The bitch was clearly enjoying the show, her maroon vest with its plunging neckline and exaggerated shoulder pads screaming for attention. Black kohl rimmed her eyes, completing the gothic ensemble designed to lure unsuspecting Wurdulaks into her bed.

Ignoring her, I focused on Petru. My brother was deep in conversation with a mountain of a man I recognized as the head of Lev’s personal guard. Their attire spoke volumes: Petru’s dark-blue suit befitting his governmental role, the Wurdulak’s leather waistcoat proudly displaying coal-black tattoos, suitable for his coven’s barbaric reputation.

“How considerate of His Highness to send another member of the royal family to our humble abode,” Lucius, my other insufferable cousin, drawled from across the table. “You grace us with your presence, princess.”

Katerina sighed wearily. And, for a fleeting moment, I almost sympathized with her—my cousin was gross. Until she opened her mouth…

“You’re always so generous with your compliments, Lucius,” she sneered. “Perhaps a ball gag would prevent any further flattery from escaping your lips… and rescue my ears. Do be a darling and give it some thought.”

“One cannot fault me for trying,” he purred, running his fingers through his four-inch electric-blue mohawk and flopping it to the other side of his head.

As I said, gross.

Katerina waved him off. “Your attempts didn’t get me into your bed fifty years ago, and they certainly won’t help you now.”

“You cruel, cruel creature—”

I tuned him out as he began nipping at his lower lip, his face contorting in arousal. If I could gouge out my eyes to unsee this, I would. In a heartbeat.

Lucius, for all his foolishness, had a knack for charming attractive women. Katerina’s resistance only seemed to fuel his obsession, blinding him to her many faces—each more dangerous than the last. You never knew which one would plunge the dagger into your back, but you could be sure of its arrival.

Katerina was every pureblood’s wet dream. A thick leather belt cinched her waist, emphasizing a bosom that strained against her black strapless corset. I often marveled at how her slender frame didn’t simply snap under all that weight.

Victoria laced her fingers together, forming a bridge, and rested her chin on it. Her gaze locked onto Katerina, a cynical smile twisting her violet-stained lips. “What a… pleasant surprise to have you with us, princess,” she said as her upper lip twitched as if the word ‘pleasant’ was poison. “Aurora is positively thrilled to celebrate her anniversary with her future sister-in-law.” She cast a sidelong glance at me, eyes glinting with malice. “Do tell her, dear cousin. Tell her how you count the days until the Red Moon. You’ll be besties in that big ol’ palace.”

The bitch knew exactly how much I loathed Katerina. She never missed a chance to twist the knife. Gritting my teeth so hard I thought they might crack, I muttered, “Yes, what she said,” and put on a bright, false smile.

Katerina’s eyebrow arched, clearly seeing I was full of it, but she remained silent.

Ever since the last Fateless Festival, where we honor the Arrival of our Creators, Victoria’s hatred for both the princess and me had grown to volcanic proportions. I wasn’t sure who she despised more: me, for being Dracula’s chosen, or Katerina, for crushing her dreams of a more advantageous marriage.

Katerina’s gaze never wavered from me, her pupils constricting to pinpricks. She raised her goblet, took a long, satisfying sip, and said, “I wouldn’t be here if I could help it.” She dabbed a droplet of blood from her lip with her pinkie. “But my brother asked me to attend his betrothed’s celebration. I couldn’t refuse him.” Then her tongue snaked out as she licked the blood from her fingertip.

“And when will the prince be joining us?” Victoria, the oblivious fool, persisted.

A muscle drew taunt at Katerina’s jaw. “His duties kept him longer than expected. He sends his sincerest apologies,” she hissed, her words clipped and frosty.

The lingering anxiety about Lev’s possible last-minute appearance slid off my shoulders and fell to the floor. It would have sunk to the depths of the Underworld if it had any substance. Whatever kept him away, I was grateful. I’d take his sister’s company over his any day. However, neither was ideal for a lifetime, for marriage.

Victoria’s face lit up like a lighthouse. “What could be more important than celebrating the first century of his future bride?” She gasped, her elbow digging into my ribs. “See, Aurora? I knew he’d grow tired of you. Not even Derzelas can make you worthy of Prince Lev—”

“VICTORIA!” Mother’s voice cracked like thunder, silencing everyone.

Fury radiated off her like electricity in a storm, matching the inferno raging inside me. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision as I resisted the temptation to stake my cousin in the back. It was one thing to attack me in private, but to do it in public, in front of the royal family no less, was a betrayal of our coven and her future ruler. I couldn’t believe she had allowed herself to give in to her disdain.

“Know your place, commoner ,” Katerina snarled, her tone chilling, cooling even my boiling blood.

That stopped me from clawing the bitch’s eyes out.

An eerie hush fell over the table as the Wurdulak princess leaned forward, a predatory grin spreading across her face. “You may be promised to the Obayifo, but there is no Blood Pact to seal the betrothal yet.” Her eyes hardened to crimson ice. “You wouldn’t want him to receive you in… parts, would you?”

Every part of my being roared to run away from Katerina’s unhinged mania. My cousin was far from a commoner, but I’d be damned if I defended her after the way she spoke to me.

Victoria’s face flushed like a tomato, her eyes bulging in shock. Her lips moved as if she would speak, but nothing came out.

“It’s alright, Katerina,” I intervened before they started a catfight. “Victoria sometimes speaks before she thinks. I’m sure she didn’t mean—”

The heavy doors screeched open, flooding the room with that tantalizing scent once more. My nostrils flared, fangs threatening to drop as my gaze darted around the room. Nothing.

Frustrated, I turned to the newcomers.

Selena glided in on Commander Enescu’s arm, a vision in a cherry-red mermaid gown that clung to her curves like a second skin. She moved with grace—round hips swaying, drawing attention to her slim waist and voluptuous bosom. Her hair flipped outward at the ends, framing a face that could launch a thousand ships. Shimmering gold eyeshadow made her eyes smolder, while lips painted the same vibrant red as her dress pouted slightly.

She didn’t just turn heads; she broke necks and held them broken.

But beneath her perfect facade, I sensed a tension that sent my knees bouncing beneath my dress.

They halted by the entrance, Selena executing a perfect curtsy while the Commander gave a solemn nod. Tall and dapper in a sleek dark suit, Bogdan Enescu exuded power and authority from every pore.

“Princess, I hope we are not too late,” she said, her tone heavy.

I glanced at my godfather, but he avoided my eyes.

“Not at all,” I replied, following them to the fireplace, where four members of our coven and Academy instructors stood with grim expressions. An unsettling flutter seized my chest.

“Sel, what’s wrong?” I whispered, just above a breath. Not that anyone curious couldn’t hear me.

Her throat bobbed, her galloping heart thrumming like a racehorse. Commander Enescu’s lion-headed cane struck the floor, and our gazes collided.

“They are here,” he announced, his voice cold and disdainful.

A storm erupted in the foyer, doors rattling violently. My pulse thundered as panicked cries filtered in from outside. I struggled to breathe, struggled to speak or think or compose myself.

Because if I hadn’t just imagined that scent, if there wasn’t even the tiniest hint of spilled blood somewhere in the room, there could only be one logical source.

Mortal blood.

It saturated the air, sweet and tangy, like a ripe plum oozing with juice. I licked my lips, tasting it on my tongue. Almost feeling it drip down my throat.

I wondered if it went down as smoothly as I remembered, dense but not too thick, with a silky, sweet flavor, maybe a hint of fruit—

A tremor ran through me, and I ripped my eyes open. Tears stung my waterline as I silently pleaded, Derzelas, give me strength. Please God, don’t let it be what I think it is.

“Our prince got carried away,” a harsh voice boomed behind me, jolting me in my seat. “Fresh batch for you, princess.”