Page 6 of The Serpent’s Bride (Bloodlines #1)

THREE

Nadi’s heart was lodged in her throat.

She hadn’t ever been so close to Raziel in her life since that final night so long ago.

And she’d barely been more than a child, then.

Inches—only inches —separated her and the monster she’d sworn to kill over eighty years ago. He was holding her hand in his. He was slightly cool to the touch—vampires fed on the blood of others, after all, and often had lower body temperatures if they hadn’t fed recently.

But when he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her knuckles, his blood-red eyes meeting hers, her skin felt hot. She locked up.

Why? Why?

There was no doubt that he was a sight to behold.

Sharp cheekbones, long, straight black hair, and a piercing stare that played no small part in his ability to control those around him.

He was tall and built—though perhaps not by his brother’s standards on either front—and dressed in a deep crimson suit that was meticulously tailored to suit his frame.

He made an imposing sight, and it was all by design.

And for the second time in her life, she was the focus of his attention.

And he had no idea who she was.

That was what shook her out of her frozen state. She was wearing a mask. A shield. She was in control of the situation, not him. Playing the game, she meekly tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and took a step closer as if drawn closer by his alluring demeanor.

Raziel let out a quiet hum of approval. “Did you have a pleasant trip?”

“I did, thank you. Never taken the train before. Didn’t see any of those hideous monsters on the way. I think I might be disappointed.” She chuckled. “I’ve never seen a real live fae before.”

“Hope you never do, my dear. They would sooner eat your eyes from your skull than show you a moment of compassion. Come. Let me show you around.” He released her hand to give her a brief tour of his home. He walked her from room to room, explaining what each one was along the first floor.

Nadi couldn’t help but gape. She knew where the vampire lived—she knew everything she could about him, including the fact that this was one of three homes he owned—but to see it up close and personal was something else.

The center of the metropolis was densely packed with stone buildings and steel structures.

But here, on the outskirts, the structures were spread out far enough to allow for some small semblance of privacy.

His mansion was tucked back away from the street behind a large stone wall and iron gate, with fake trees and fake shrubberies along the edges of the property providing even more privacy.

Couldn’t let anything Wild nearby, of course. What plants there were, decoratively kept in pots or the few small areas of grass, were ringed with wrought iron—to keep any magic at bay—and likely groomed back daily to keep them under control.

The building looked a hundred years old on the outside, but the interior was newly gutted and renovated.

The walls were a shining, heavily lacquered wood inlaid with sharp-edged geometric patterns.

Everything was made of clean lines and the detail was minimal.

But the materials were where the opulence and the expense came in.

Marble, gold, brass plaques depicting vampires fighting savage fae set into the floors.

Electric bulbs glowed from fixtures that had clearly just been wired to replace the gas ones, handmade stained glass casting contrasting light across the surfaces in various shades of red, amber, and yellow.

Everything was expensive. And everything was placed just so. It was a far cry from her clean, but cheap, little rented room and its pastel printed wallpaper.

This was the kind of luxury that most people could only dream of.

Instantly, she wanted to break something.

Namely, Raziel’s smug, smirking face. It would be so easy to just take the pin from the sections of her hair she had coiled up into a bun at the back of her head and just put it right through his jugular.

Vampires were hard to kill. But if you stabbed anything enough times, it would die.

But she didn’t just want him dead.

She wanted him to suffer.

The rest of his moons-damned family had to die first.

His red eyes were gleaming in amusement and hunger, like a wild animal stalking its prey. She smiled, trying to hide her sudden rush of adrenaline as shyness, and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Her face was flushed, but not for the reason he probably thought.

The tour ended where it began, back at the foyer.

“You have quite the place here, Mr. Nostrom.”

“You may call me Raziel.” He hummed and stepped closer to her. Towering over her easily by a foot, it was clear he was used to using his height and appearance to intimidate. Those red eyes of his burned into her— through her.

His fingers twisted in a coil of her own hair, wrapping the waves around his digits lazily.

She wanted to hurt him. Very, very badly. But she had to keep up the act—she had to pretend. She adopted the faintest look of fear on her face. There weren’t many vampires in the outer cities. There was very little influence to wield out there, after all.

He smiled, reading her feigned fear exactly as she hoped he would. “That’s right…you probably haven’t met many of my kind.”

“You’re the first.” She shifted a little from one foot to the other.

The slow, leisurely smile that spread over his face was that of a wolf recognizing his next meal.

And it glinted with just a hint of pleasure.

“I look forward to teaching you everything about us.” Releasing her hair and crooking one of his fingers beneath her chin, he tilted her head up to him.

She hadn’t realized she’d fixated on his ruby-encrusted tie pin until he redirected her. “You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?”

“I—I heard—I heard vampires drink blood.” Easy, Nadi. Easy. Don’t knee him in the nuts just yet.

“We do. But it isn’t deadly. And it certainly isn’t painful.

On the contrary—it can be the most exquisite, blissful experience anyone could possibly have…

it can be positively addictive.” When he curled his knuckle to run his finger along her cheek, her stomach churned.

“But don’t fret. I’ve promised not to mark your pretty little neck until after the ceremony.

Otherwise, my dear mother will have my head on a pike. ”

Trying to look as shy and demure as possible, Nadi took a step away from him and stared down at his shoes, still faintly smiling. He smelled like sandalwood and cologne—or maybe a little like a campfire. “O—oh.” What else was she supposed to say to that?

“Shame your family couldn’t attend the wedding.”

Good. She was right about that. She stared down at her feet. Monica would be shy. “Too risky, what with the family business to run and all.”

“Mm. And Mother wasn’t going to foot the travel bill.

Well.” Turning from her, he headed back toward the stairs.

“I have business to attend to. I’m sure Hank over there will be happy to show you to your room, Miss Monica.

I will return by dinner. I think it would be lovely to get to know each other, don’t you? ”

“Y-yeah.” The stammer came easily. She didn’t know what she had expected him to do, but having him simply dismiss her like that was a surprise. She wasn’t used to being immaterial. When she was on the job, she was usually trying to be unimportant—but not like this.

Anger and frustration roiled in her before she dismissed it. You’re just a political means to an end for his family. And to him, you’re just a toy to be used and discarded. Swallowing down all her anger, she kept her voice shaky and unsure. “Sounds lovely.”

He was already halfway up the stairs to the second floor.

“I’m sure for you, it will be. Come along, Ivan.

Oh—and Hank? Get Sarah to find the girl some proper clothes that fit her, will you?

By the moons, she looks like she rolled out of a workhouse.

Make her presentable before I eat, yes? I’d hate to lose my appetite. ”

“Yes, sir,” the one that must be Hank replied.

It took all Nadi’s strength. Everything she had. Every ounce of discipline she’d taught herself. All the patience she had earned on rooftops waiting for her target to show up after twenty or more hours of sitting perfectly still. All of that—just to keep her hands from pulling into fists.

This was normal. This was expected. This was exactly the kind of shit that Monica would have been warned about and been coached to dismiss.

She was a low-born, moderately affluent human from an outer city.

He was a ridiculously wealthy, powerful vampire with extremely obvious connections to organized crime.

But fuck she wanted to hurt him. She needed to make him suffer.

Swallowing it all down, she bribed herself into submission with the promise of a few hours of peace and quiet.

Once Raziel was gone, she turned to Hank, who, from her sources, was Raziel’s second-in-command guard next to Ivan. “Thank you—I hate to be a bother.”

The man grunted. Clearly, she wasn’t even worth a word. Or eye contact. He simply went toward the back of the house down a hallway and waved at her to follow.

Oh, she hated all of them.

Hank would be fun to kill. Leave him strung up somewhere with his own tongue shoved up his nose. Or somewhere less polite. At least he was sparing her miserable and pointless small talk. He brought her up the back stairs—like a servant—and showed her to a room at the back end of the house.

Walking in, she pretended as though she was in awe of the place. It was clear this was a spare bedroom but to Monica, it would have all been astonishing. Turning to Hank, she smiled. “Thank?—”

Hank shut the door on her.