Page 13 of The Serpent’s Bride (Bloodlines #1)

SEVEN

Nadi left her room around lunchtime when nobody had come by to get her.

Not that she particularly wanted to interact with anybody—she was just hungry.

And once it was clear she was going to be largely ignored by the staff—and Raziel, it seemed—she didn’t feel bad throwing on a much more casual set of clothes and heading down to the kitchen to make herself a sandwich.

A few of the staff and the guards stationed around the house gave her odd looks, but other than that, it seemed they weren’t going to stop her.

Great. She made herself a grilled cheese with what she could find in the fridge, poured herself a cup of coffee—cream no sugar—before making the trek back toward her room.

As she passed one of the doors leading out to the back yard, she stopped.

Sitting out there, lounging on an elegant piece of outdoor furniture, was Raziel.

He was staring into the shimmering waters of the pool from under a patio umbrella, his expression drawn tight.

His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses.

Vampires were sensitive to light—it weakened their powers to almost nothing—but they weren’t hurt by it.

He looked…upset. Not angry. Just upset.

In his hand he had a coin. He walked it over his fingers to his thumb, then back again. It was an almost hypnotic pattern he kept repeating again and again.

Her curiosity drove her outside, approaching him a little cautiously. What was upsetting him? Likely still Lana. But she had to know.

Ivan, Raziel’s chief bodyguard, turned his head to look at her as she approached. He nodded once in greeting. “Miss.”

I’m going to love murdering you. Even if it’s going to take me eighty-two stabs to do it. She smiled at him sweetly. “Mornin’. Though I guess it’s afternoon, now.”

Raziel looked a little surprised as she sat down near him, placing the plate on her lap with her grilled cheese.

“Want half?” She motioned to the plate.

There was the faintest, quizzical smile on his face as he turned his attention back to the pool. “No. Thank you.” He paused for a moment. “You kept your hair down today. Good.”

Shrugging, she started eating in silence.

She wasn’t sure whether the people in his service were under his hypnotic command or not.

He made it sound like doing his bidding was a willing choice on the part of his victims. That made sense.

She supposed it was a lot more problematic if his victims knew they were dancing on puppet strings.

Still, the coin danced effortlessly across his fingers.

“That’s a fun trick. Where’d you learn to do that?” Nadi smiled at him cheerfully.

“I taught myself. I have had many years to learn.” He caught the coin between the fingertips of his pointer and middle fingers and held it there for a moment. Then, flicking his wrist, he made the coin vanish. Another flick, and it was back again. A street magician’s illusion.

Smiling, she applauded quietly. She knew it wasn’t real magic, but simple dexterity and practice—which somehow made it more impressive. “That’s wonderful. How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Over two hundred years old.”

“Oh. Wow.” She let out a whistle. “How old do vampires get?”

“We don’t age.” Raziel’s expression fell flat. “My mother is well over five hundred, and my grandmother…well, she does not speak of her age. And no one knows how old she is.”

Grandmother Lilivra. The great-grand matriarch of not only the Nostrom clan, but of most of the vampire sects.

She was a mysterious figure that Nadi knew next to nothing about.

No one had seen or heard from her in centuries—rumor was that she was long dead, or in hiding, or had been murdered by one of her own children and overthrown.

Nadi didn’t quite know what to think of the whole thing. And honestly, she didn’t care.

Her interests were much closer to home and far more mundane on the scale of things than vampire demigods and elder creatures that were probably legends.

“Oh,” was all she really had to say in response. They fell into silence again for a long stretch as she finished her sandwich and put down the plate with a clink. Watching his expression, she saw he seemed a thousand miles away.

There was a bit of a choice in front of her.

She could either say “Have a good one,” and go hide in her room until she was forced to attend the party that Lana was throwing.

Or, she could pretend she cared and ask him what was wrong.

The first option was her preference, though she was deeply curious what could be bothering him.

The second was probably pointless. He wouldn’t tell her the truth, he didn’t trust her.

She was just some twit from the farmlands who he assumed wouldn’t live long enough to grow wise to his real business dealings.

But if she wanted to get close enough to hurt him and take down everybody around him, she’d need his trust. Even just a little bit of it.

Somehow, some way, she had to get him to like her.

As stupid as it sounded. But she had no idea how to actually go about doing that.

She’d memorized every single detail about his life, but it wasn’t the same thing.

The coin danced over his fingers. It was fascinating to watch.

Smirking, she sipped her coffee. “How many coins do you think you’ll get as wedding gifts?”

That earned her a glance of surprise followed by a laugh. He hadn’t expected that. “The answer is too many. It’s the thing everybody gets me.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s one of the few things I appreciate, I suppose. But it’s the easiest and only option.”

“At least you’ll never run out.” She shrugged. “What else do you like? Besides, you know, coins?” It was a mundane line of questioning, but it’d do. “I figure I should know something about my future husband other than that he drinks blood mixed with wine and owns too many antique coins.”

Reaching out his arms to both sides of him, Raziel propped his feet up on the glass-topped coffee table in front of him and crossed his legs at the ankles.

“I have the curse of being that person you just can’t buy anything for because I have everything already.

I wouldn’t worry about it, if I were you. ”

“Hm. Handmade gifts, then.” She sipped her coffee again. Thank the Mother moon for coffee. “Something you can’t buy.”

He furrowed his brow for a moment. Something crossed over his face like a cloud over a moon before it was just as quickly gone again. Maybe nobody had ever made him anything in his life, and he was just realizing that.

Because nobody loves you, you heinous piece of shit.

She opted not to say that bit out loud. But any bit of pain she could bring him by pointing out the yawning emptiness in his life was more than fine by her.

Part of her wondered who he really was, deep down. Behind the veneer of arrogance. If there was anything at all. Maybe he was like a mannequin—pretty on the outside, hollow in the middle. Just wearing clothes and pretending to exist.

“I’m sorry your sister is going to ruin your house tonight.” She let her legitimate disdain for having to go to this so-called party show through. “It’s honestly the last thing I want to deal with.”

“Not a party girl?”

“No, I like them well enough. Just not when I don’t have a choice in the matter.” Her smile faded a little. “I should get used to that, though. Not having a choice in things.”

Raziel finally turned his attention fully toward her and away from the pool, red eyes regarding her thoughtfully from behind his dark sunglasses. Almost curious. “I assume you wanted nothing to do with this marriage.”

“Leave my family, my friends, my home—and be forced to marry a man I don’t know?” Shaking her head, she let out a sigh. “Not a lot of people would willingly sign up for that. I assume you want nothing to do with me either.”

“Hm. I wouldn’t say that.” His smile turned a little fiendish as his voice dropped, becoming husky and sensual. “I think there’s plenty of fun we can have together, don’t you?”

Something in her twisted in reaction to his words. Then embarrassment flooded her at her response. She hated him. Despised him. Loathed him. But his words did something to her.

This was getting more and more complicated.

Maybe she should just stab him and be done with it. Throw out her plan of killing the rest of his family first to make him suffer and just cut him to ribbons instead.

Maybe she should have thought this all through before throwing herself into the middle of things. But she hadn’t had much time to react. She’d seen her opportunity and gone for it without really considering all of the details.

Never mind the fact that he wasn’t telling “Monica” the whole truth about what the arrangement was with the wedding. That Monica was doomed to either be turned or be killed. But she had to play her part, either way.

“There has to be more to you than shipping and receiving, and, well, that .” She looked down at her lap. Monica was likely a little shy, and it gave Nadi an excuse to hide her turmoil.

“Hm.” That was all he was willing to give her at first. But a moment later, he got up to sit closer, his thigh against hers.

When he draped an arm over her shoulders, she fought the urge to punch him in the face.

“Tomorrow, you have a dress fitting appointment with my mother that you need to attend. She’ll know if you’re hungover. You cannot be hungover.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t giving her a choice. That much wasn’t lost on her. But she smiled at him brightly, all the same. “Noted.” After a pause, she frowned. “Your sister isn’t going to be mad if I refuse the powder, is she?”

“You have an issue with drugs?”

“No, I just don’t like what it does to me.” She wrinkled her nose. That wasn’t a lie. “I prefer the natural stuff. The chemicals make me feel itchy.”