Page 45 of Grim’s Delight (The New Protectorate Syndicate #1)

TWENTY-FOUR

She wanted to argue with him more, but it wasn’t the time. Marietta walked in ahead of them and perched on the armrest of a couch, one shapely leg draped over the other. A little crystal charm dangling from the clasp of her heel sparkled in the light as her foot bobbed with an expectant rhythm.

The hum of conversation died away as all eyes turned to them. Dahlia pulled her shoulders back, her expression smoothing. It was a reflex from spending so many years in The Lush.

In a lot of ways, walking into the lounge was similar to a shift at the bar. Facing the Amauri family was a lot like walking into work every day, not knowing if the vampires she’d face would try to take a bite out of her or not.

Even the children stopped playing to look up at her, their big eyes watchful and serious as they weighed her worth.

Her stomach somersaulted as she caught the little streaks of white in their hair and the tiny fangs that peeked out from behind their lips. They were a vivid image of the future she’d signed up for, and made her even more determined to have it out with Felix in the privacy of their bedroom.

If she was going to be his partner, that meant that she was responsible for the safety of everyone in this room — and that included the kids sitting cross-legged on the rug.

Giving her waist a squeeze, Felix waved a hand at the room at large.

“All right,” he began, as casually as one might address their family at a Sunday barbecue.

“Everyone, meet my bride, Dahlia Bowan. As you probably know, she was formerly Dahlia McKnight but has been officially claimed by Alastair Bowan as his heir.”

A round of chuckles and huffs went through the room. Felix waited for the commotion to die down a bit before continuing, “Dahlia is my blood bride and going forward, my partner. You’ll answer to her the same way you answer to me. Understood?”

An elder eyed her up and down from where he sat in a wingback chair. His blue eyes were a little rheumy, but they had a keen look when he noted, “Alastair never seemed the type to risk making an heir. What makes you so special?”

Felix had explained to her that it was the elders who were the most against his authority, and it was their ideals that made taking a blood bride necessary.

Neither facts made her particularly inclined to like them, let alone cater to them.

Still, she didn’t intend to make enemies right off the bat.

Dahlia pursed her lips. Aware that everyone in the room was judging her not just for what she said but what she didn’t say, she answered, “Nothing besides being in the right place at the right time. Alastair turned me accidentally when someone decided the best way to accomplish a hit was to throw a grenade at a rooftop.”

Giving the men who were clearly soldiers a long, narrow-eyed look, she coolly added, “I suppose I have one of you to thank for all this.”

There were several winces and even more muffled laughs around the room. The old man wasn’t laughing, though.

Making a clicking sound with his tongue, he demanded, “So you have no loyalty to the Bowans?”

“I don’t know them,” she answered honestly. “But I’ve known Felix for three years. If I have loyalty to anyone, it’s to him.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s mine. I’m his bride. He’s my husband,” she answered. There was zero hesitation and no thought. Just a truth that had been building in the shadows for years and recently burst into the light.

Felix squeezed her waist. A peek at his expression showed him looking as smug as she’d ever seen him, which was saying something. His lips twisted to one side as he fought a big, shit-eating grin, and the self-satisfaction in his eyes was unmistakable.

From across the room, Luis clapped his hands together, breaking the tension. “That settles that, then,” he laughed. “I guess I really don’t have a chance anymore.”

“To be clear, you never had a chance,” Felix replied, rolling his eyes. “Now, does anyone have any other questions?”

Hands went up all around the room. Soon enough she was peppered with inquiries about herself: where she’d been born, what her education was, how close she was to her human family, and more.

She didn’t have much to offer on that front.

Her hometown was a speck. Her education was slow and not particularly glamorous.

Her family was full of deadbeats and criminals.

She didn’t match up with any of the pedigreed blood brides they’d had in mind for Felix, but she held her head high anyway.

What mattered was that she knew she belonged there. If they didn’t like that, they could suck it down with their synth.

By far her favorite questions were the ones that came from the children, which Felix seemed to take as seriously as those that came from the elders.

Dahlia looked down to find a little vampire tugging at her pant leg, her eyes huge and curious in her face.

A lock of tight white curls dangled against her cheek, while the rest were pulled back into pigtails.

She couldn’t have been older than five, and aside from what looked like a fresh baby swaddled in her dad’s arms in the corner, appeared to be one of the youngest children in the room.

Crouching down to be at eye level with her, Dahlia murmured, “Yes?”

“How long have you been a vampire?”

The timeline was squishy, but since she didn’t feel the need to explain all the gory medical details to a child, Dahlia chose the simplest route. “About three weeks, give or take.”

“Oh.” The little girl drew out the sound with great solemnity. “That makes me older than you. I’ve been a vampire for five years.”

Dahlia nodded, biting the inside of her cheek to fight a smile. “You must know a lot, then. What’s your name?”

“Sonia,” she answered. “And I do know a lot.”

“Well, Sonia, maybe you could give me some advice sometime.”

The little girl nodded. “I can help you. You’re gonna need it.”

Felix placed a hand on top of Sonia’s head. “Sonia gives great advice. A couple weeks ago she told me it’d improve morale to install a slide and swing set in the yard.”

Dahlia stood up. She didn’t bother hiding her smile this time. “And did it work?”

“For the youngest Amauris,” he dryly replied. Meeting Sonia’s satisfied smile with an arched brow, he said, “I suspect that we didn’t go far enough. Maybe a treehouse will get us there. What do you think?”

Sonia widened her eyes and sucked in a huge, dramatic breath. “A treehouse?”

“A treehouse. You should go ask Luis to build it for you. Tell him I said it’s not optional.”

They watched Sonia scamper off, her head bobbing with agreement. The smart girl stopped to gather her cousins, who exploded in breathless excitement before they all rushed to corner Luis. He watched them come at him like a tidal wave with obvious alarm.

“That was cruel,” she muttered, leaning into Felix. He swayed her back into his chest as they watched the spectacle unfold.

“He likes to press my buttons. This is what he gets.” Felix shrugged. “It’s fine. He’ll just pay to have someone build it and then take all the credit when the kids worship him like a god for a couple weeks.”

Tucking her under his arm, he began to guide her around the room, introducing her to everyone individually.

It was hopeless to actually attempt to memorize everyone’s names and where they fit into the family tree, so she didn’t try.

Dahlia devoted her energy to picking up other important details, like how they reacted to her, whether they had children or not, and what generation they seemed to fall under.

That last one quickly became the most important to her. There was a clear demarcation between the generations that went beyond who wore the bloody tattoo or not. The way the elders held themselves, how they spoke to them — they were just different.

Colder. Hardened. Hawkish. When they looked at her, they were assessing where the tenderest bits to pick off were.

Not all of them were outright unfriendly, but none of them were warm. Dahlia wasn’t offended, but it did make her wonder how much of their opinion really could be swayed by the fact that she was a blood bride.

Looking into their flinty eyes, an upswell of protectiveness rose from deep within her. These were the people who would’ve happily sided with Yvanna against Felix. They would’ve taken his death completely in stride. They might’ve even helped make it possible.

They were sharks in the otherwise clear, welcoming waters of the family, and Dahlia wouldn’t let them out of her sight for a second.

It was a relief when they finally made it over to the corner where Nash, Alvin, and Milo were gathered. She was a little surprised to see another non-vampire or Amauri spouse there as well.

Genevieve, the tattooed witch who’d torn open space and time like it was as easy as sneezing, sat in a chair with her feet propped up on Nash’s thick thigh.

He sat caddy-corner to her, his huge, muscular arms spread over the back of his chair.

A bottle of synth was clutched loosely in one hand, but he didn’t appear to be drinking from it as he listened intently to something the witch was telling him.

His posture looked a little stiff, too. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what was strange about it until she saw the fingers of his left hand twitch and curl into a fist, like he was actively trying to resist grabbing something — the slim ankles in his lap, maybe.

Before they got close enough to be overheard, Dahlia whispered in Felix’s ear, “Are they together?”

“No.” He paused, eyebrows arching in a look she recognized as his shit-stirring face.

“But there’s a bet going around over when Nash will work up the courage to take a bite.

I’ve got a hundred bucks on six weeks. Luis doesn’t think he’ll ever make a move, and Marietta is betting on less than a month. ”