Page 148 of Claimed By Fangs and Darkness

Um, rude?What a strange insult.

“It’s a compliment,” he said with a sigh. “I am asking you what you desire out of life. What fuels you?”

“Justice.”

Conrad laughed. “I didn’t expect you to be honest. How charming,” he murmured.

He leaned forward, and for a moment, I could see it—the hint of charisma beneath so many layers of immortal indifference.

I could understand how a naive immortal might chase those glimpses of warmth and humor, believing themselves to be oh-so-special for making someone this hard reveal a hidden softness.

It was a trap.

“Justice is a mortal delusion. There is no justice in an indifferent world. The past is dead, and there is no resurrecting it.”

I sighed. Another convenient take. “WhatshouldI want?”

Conrad’s eyes widened. For the first time, he smiled. “I like this question.”

I felt the weight of my discreet collar, grounding myself.

“You should want the protection of the strongest power in the realm,” he said boldly.

“And that’syou?”

Conrad’s smile widened. “I can tell you that it’snotyour ragtag group of angsty adolescents begging to sit at the adult table.”

They had no fucking idea. At first, I thought they were overplaying how much they underestimated us. Perhaps in order to dig for information. Kylo’s eighty-year plan of concealing the clan’s true capacities had worked.

They had no idea who they were up against.

“You’ve never been outside of Etherdale, have you? Besides your nowhere village in Isolde, of course.”

I shook my head. “Not yet.”

Conrad sipped his whiskey, leaning back again. His pale blue eyes snagged on my lips, and I wondered how well I’d concealed my smugness.

“Etherdale is sleepy and utterly dull compared to vampire-run cities such as Prospyrus,” he said.

“Then why are you here and notthere?”

“Mouthy little thing,” Conrad drawled. “Believe me, I would be there if I could. I hate this godsforsaken city.”

Well, that was bloody apparent. It filled me with such instinctive rage that Conrad thought himself better than the city he was currently destroying—the city supposedly under his custodianship—if only to prevent the turned and mortals from having it for ourselves.

“You would too if you’d ever traveled.”

“You don’t know me.”

Conrad shrugged. “You’re a frightened young woman who reads, dreams, and believes in fairy tales. You love pretty dresses, jewelry, and art, and you fill your mind with ideals of justice and mysticism and meaning because you can’t accept the possibility that you exist in an apathetic universe of meaningless chaos. A place where fairness is merely a construct, the strong prevail, and the wise understand that everyone is out for themselves.”

I wanted to tell him how wrong he was. I wanted to tell him about the hidden clubs of dancing humans and the covens who met by candlelight and the family I’d joined by blood and shadow. But he’d never understand.

“Choosing to suffer won’t win you favor with the gods.” He gestured to my untouched glass of whiskey. “There is a path where you are safe, well-traveled, well-read, and spoiled with all the luxury this world has to offer. There is a path where you no longer have to deny yourself.”

All the born understood was power and pleasure. They could speak on an intellectual level about morality and existentialism, but they couldn’t truly feel what mortals felt. They were too self-absorbed to step out of their own perspectives and into the mind of another.

So, I let Conrad misunderstand me. I pretended once again to be conflicted, confused. Just a poor little lamb in need of a shepherd who knew so much more than she.