Page 2 of The Serpent’s Bride (Bloodlines #1)

ONE

ONE WEEK EARLIER

“Again.”

Raziel danced the gold coin over the backs of his knuckles. It was one of his favorites. Moving the coin to his thumb, he flicked it into the air, sending it whirling up into the light of the Father, the larger of the two moons, before catching it in his palm to repeat the action.

A familiar sound. Then a whimper of pain.

Turning on his heel, he looked at the man sitting in the chair across the room from him before letting out a long, heavy sigh. Tilting his head to the side slightly, he clicked his tongue. “Marley, Marley, Marley…you really are terrible at this, aren’t you?”

The man in question let out a growl of rage and defiance as he clung to some pathetic shred of dignity. “What I’m upset about is…He sent the Serpent to deal with me? I didn’t even warrant Mael coming in person to do the deed? Doesn’t Mael understand I never meant — ” He choked off in pain.

“Never meant what? Insult? Offense?” Walking across the plush carpet, Raziel went over to the large house plant Marley kept in a vase by the window in his office.

It offended him for several reasons. One, it was needlessly ostentatious.

Two, it stank of the Wild. And third, Marley was clearly forgetting to water the damnable thing and it was beginning to brown at the edges.

That Marley would bring a piece of the Wild into his place of business only confirmed that Raziel’s brother Mael had been right about his suspicions. Not that it mattered anymore.

“Come now. I’ve heard it all. What kind of excuse are you going to invent this time, Marley?” Raziel moved to half sit on the edge of Marley’s desk, putting him only inches away from his victim. “Mael spared your life once. He sent me to make sure he wouldn’t be fooled a second time.”

Marley wasn’t restrained; Raziel had no need for anything so mundane as protection from humans. And, clutched in one hand, Marley held a pocketknife, slicked red with blood that had come from the several fresh holes in his right thigh.

Marley didn’t respond, just whimpered.

“Now. Stop changing the subject. Tell me who you were working with, and I’ll let this be quick.” Raziel smiled warmly, casually tucking his hands into his pockets.

Marley grimaced. “ Fuck you , Serpent. Fuck you, and your whole vampire family. Yeah. I sold you out. I’ve been selling you out for years. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

Laughing, Raziel shook his head. “Humans. You get so petulant when cornered. Again .”

Marley picked up the knife and stabbed himself in the thigh without a moment of delay. He had no choice, after all. Raziel had told him to do it.

“Who were you working with?” Raziel’s power applied to physical actions—but sadly not words. It was quite obnoxious. He could command someone to speak, but what would fall out of their mouths would just be nonsense. He might as well tell them to bark like a dog.

Which was usually quite amusing, but he was not in the mood at the moment. He was in a bit of a rush.

Marley was shaking now. He was going into shock, despite his absolutely miserable aim with the knife.

But he stayed quiet.

Very well.

Have it your way.

Taking Marley’s face in his hands, Raziel tipped it up to look at him—firmly, but not forcefully.

He smiled again. “Marley, you and I both know you’re going to die tonight.

Give me the name of the fae scum you sold Mael’s shipment to, and I will let you die quickly and peacefully.

Don’t, and you know how painful I can make this for you.

It’s your choice. Your part in all of this is over. Loyalty will get you nowhere.”

Marley shut his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks and onto Raziel’s hands. “Th—the Iltanis…”

Straightening up, Raziel patted his victim on the shoulder.

Heading for the door, he took his pocket square out of his pants’ pocket and cleaned his palms. “Thank you, Marley. Be a dear and slit your throat. Deeply. Don’t want you to spend all night gurgling on the carpet.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a wedding to plan. ”

The quiet thump from behind him was the last time Marley ever crossed Raziel’s thoughts. Folding the pocket square and tucking it back into the pocket of his pants, he headed down to street level where his car was waiting for him.

A wedding to plan.

What a joke.

To a woman he’d never met—one served up to him like a sacrificial lamb. She’d been traded away by her father like so much meat at a market. He wondered how much this Monica Valan knew about the deal. He almost felt bad for her.

Almost.

Nadi walked into the expensive hotel room, quickly glancing over the space. A luxurious king-sized bed with decadent, golden silk sheets. Large glass windows tastefully tinted to avoid any onlookers seeing anything…untoward.

An expensive and discreet hotel.

It catered to a very specific kind of clientele.

Which meant that it wasn’t her first time in the building, though her first time on such a high floor.

In the basement there was a jazz nightclub that was the talk of the metropolis, all brass and rose granite and flapper dancers in shining sequined dresses.

The man who had booked the room walked in behind her. What was his name again? Danton? No, Denton. Mark Denton.

Denton locked the door, throwing the series of large and newfangled deadbolts. They wouldn’t be disturbed until morning.

Very discreet.

Turning, she smiled at him, knowing it wasn’t her expression but her low-cut top that was catching his gaze. Her dress plunged down between her breasts, and he hadn’t stopped staring at her cleavage all night.

That was fine. That was why she had chosen this body and this dress in the first place.

Walking up to him, she slipped her hands up his chest, smoothing them over his shirt, before unbuttoning his coat. “Can’t imagine how stressful it must be, working for the Nostroms…such a powerful family. So many connections . What’s it like to be so close to them?”

“You know how it is. A job is a job. Mael is a slavedriver. His sister is worse.” Mark grunted.

“Usually, Mael has me running all over the city, delivering messages for the mayor. Like he couldn’t just pick up a damn phone.

But right now, get this, he has me handing out invitations for his psychopathic brother’s wedding. ”

What. A cold chill ran down her spine. She forced warmth into her voice. “A wedding? That’s romantic, though.”

“Sure, normally.” Mark snorted. “Except this poor dame isn’t a vampire, sweetheart. Do you know what happens when a human gets married to a vampire?” He sighed. “Best you don’t.”

“I read a moontale like that once. Maybe they’ll fall in love and he’ll turn her.

” She tried to play the idiot routine. It seemed to work, as he just shook his head.

“Sit, let me give you a shoulder rub.” She motioned to an upholstered bench over by one wall.

It was a deep green velvet, lined in brass, and matched the same hyper-modern detailing as everything else in the room. “I’m fantastic with my hands.”

Mark chuckled. “I can’t wait to find out…” He moved to sit on the bench, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it aside. “Give me a little show first, though, yeah? Show me what I’m renting this room for.”

Disgusting.

Her smile didn’t flinch as she stood in front of him, just out of his reach, and slowly slipped out of her own coat, letting it pool on the floor. She turned her back to him and, taking her sweet time, bent over, unlacing her shoes.

“Fuck. Yes. ”

Her jaw ticked. She was very glad he couldn’t see. As she straightened up, she slid her hands up her legs, making sure he could imagine his hands in their place, riding her dress up her thighs. Kicking off her shoes, she let her dress fall back down before turning to face him.

“Aww…” He stuck out his lower lip in a comical pout.

“Have to leave something for the main event. Besides. Seems like I have you excited enough.” She chuckled at the obvious state he was in.

With a shrug, he leaned back a bit to undo his belt and unzip his fly, releasing some of the pressure on what must be an uncomfortable situation. “I’ve always appreciated a beautiful woman who knows how to use it to her advantage.”

“Mm.” Walking around behind him, she stroked her hand up his arm and to his shoulder, kneading it.

“Anyway, you know what the funny part is, about the whole wedding fiasco? He hasn’t even ever seen the broad. She’s from one of the outer cities. Some rancher’s daughter. Never even visited the metropolis.” He let out a low groan, tilting his head forward. “Harder.”

She obliged, grasping both his shoulders in her hands and giving them a good squeeze. That drew another low groan out of him. She went on like that for a moment, waiting until his muscles eased and relaxed. Waiting for him to slip his eyes shut.

Reaching up, she pulled out the two long pins that kept her long locks curled up in a bun.

And drove them deep between his ribs and directly into his lungs.

Mark went rigid, arching his back, doing more damage to himself.

He jerked, trying to spin and grab her, ripping bigger wounds in himself.

It was already too late; he just didn’t know it yet.

His lungs were filling with blood. He let out a strangled noise, went to shout, scream—and could only suck in liquid instead of air.

“Sorry.” She smiled. “You know how it is. A job is a job. Especially when the Nostroms are involved.”

Mark lurched for her, but his knees gave out. He coughed, red staining his lips. It was amazing how quickly a person could drown in their own blood. If a victim panicked—which most of the time they did—it could be over in a matter of moments.