Page 7 of The Serpent’s Bride (Bloodlines #1)

“—you.” Nadi counted backward from ten. Then did it a second time.

Otherwise, she would’ve stormed down the hallway and killed the man right then and there.

Too soon. She couldn’t start murdering people ten minutes after arriving.

No, she’d have to take her time. Let everyone adjust to her presence.

Likely, she should wait until after the wedding to start taking out his friends and employees.

Right.

The wedding.

There was no small part of her that wanted to avoid thinking about it. Not so much because she hated weddings—they were exciting, the few she had ever attended in her life—but because of what was going to follow after the wedding.

If Raziel even waited that long before forcing her into his bed.

Putting down Monica’s luggage on a chair by the door—luggage that Hank hadn’t offered to carry—she unzipped it to see exactly what the young woman had brought with her.

Clothes. A few books. And a stuffed teddy bear. It looked fairly new, so at least she hadn’t accidentally stolen the real Monica’s favorite childhood toy. Poor girl. He would have chewed her up and spat her out. Sorry, Monica—you wouldn’t have lasted even a single week with him.

There was a modicum of honor in saving Monica from Raziel.

Nadi hadn’t set out with that in mind, and it wasn’t like it was a big thing—but she supposed she could at least hold her head up high a tiny bit.

Right? Some good was coming out of what she was doing in the short term.

She wasn’t a good person. But what she was trying to do was good.

Flopping down onto the bed, she let out a breath.

She was exhausted. She didn’t dare drop her glamor.

Luckily, it stayed active in her sleep. She had to be pretty badly injured for her magic to falter.

But falling asleep, unguarded, in an unfamiliar space was unwise.

Even so, she was extremely tempted to say fuck all that and just take the opportunity to rest.

Getting back up off the bed with a grunt, she went to make sure the door was locked.

Don’t be stupid, they have keys. At least her room came with a private bathroom.

That was a plus. She explored the space, checking every drawer and under every piece of furniture, looking for spyholes, cameras, anything.

But it seemed clean.

You’re not important. They’ve made that very clear.

Not even important enough to spy on. Maybe she could take a nap. That was certainly what Monica would do after a long day of travel. Letting down her guard felt…gross. It just felt wrong. But she had to play the part.

And she was exhausted, after all.

With a sigh, she picked up the little teddy bear—it still had a tag on the bottom of it. Maybe a going-away gift? Or something Monica had bought on the way? It didn’t matter. Pulling the tag off, she climbed under the top comforter of the bed.

Even the shittiest of the shitty guest rooms Raziel had was still miles more comfortable than anything Nadi had ever owned. Using the stuffed animal as a pillow to prop her arm up on, she shut her eyes and quickly nodded off.

At least she didn’t dream. That was all she’d need—his smug smile and velvety voice haunting her in her sleep.

Raziel flopped down on the sofa on the balcony of his suite, turning another one of his gold coins over on his fingers. There was no business to attend to.

But if there was one thing he’d learned to do with his toys, it was to make them wait. Make them yearn for his voice, his touch, his presence. His staff had been told to leave her alone unless otherwise directed to—she would be isolated, cut off from interaction with everyone except him.

Alone in the metropolis with no friends or family—with no one to rely on but him? He’d have her literally eating out of his hand in no time at all. An old game, but an easy one.

Ivan took his post by the door, his hands folded in front of him, as he stared ahead into the middle distance. Once, Raziel had asked his friend and guard what he thought about when he stared like that, and the man only shrugged and said he didn’t really know.

Good man.

Perhaps the joke was on Raziel, and Ivan was secretly penning entire novels in his head while he stood there and blankly watched time go by.

Around the coin went again.

He had a collection of antique currency to choose from, from before the modern age of Runne, before the humans built their cities with the aid of his kind. The coins were one of the few gifts people could give him that he actually enjoyed. One of the few things he actually cherished in his life.

Little was known of life on the island those thousands of years ago. Only that it was a time of tyranny, savage cruelty, and that only by combining forces had the humans and the vampires driven the fae underground and established some modicum of true order and civilization to the world.

The war had never truly ended, of course. And the fae had leaked out like mold, retaking the plains. The coin in his hand was a delicate piece. Covered in filigree on both sides in almost impossible detail that must have taken a master artisan to create.

Savages. But capable of such beautiful pieces of art. A shame they couldn’t be tamed.

“What do you think?” Raziel turned the coin around over on his fingers, flipping it over his knuckles. The largest moon, the one that had once been worshiped as the Father god, was just starting to rise over the tree line.

“Of?” Ivan sniffed.

“The girl, you dumb fuck.” He rolled his eyes. “What did you think I meant?”

Ivan shrugged. Sweet man. Good friend. But the intelligence of a brick. And, just like a brick, he was very useful for bashing people’s heads in. “Cute.”

Brief, but accurate. Monica was, contrary to his concerns, quite attractive.

His body tightened in response to the memory of seeing her, standing there in her ill-fitting clothes and with her big, innocent, green eyes.

Underneath the stupid patterned dress was a body that he couldn’t wait to have stretched out before him, taut, waiting— begging.

Her dark brown hair had hints of chestnut. And the way her eyes went just a little wide when she looked at him? The way she almost trembled when he drew near?

What a wonderful trinket. He would have so much fun breaking her, even if he suspected it would be far, far too easy. He wondered if he could shatter her in a night—have her licking his shoes and begging for his attention by the following dawn.

The thought made him shudder in anticipation. Picking up his wine glass of blood, he took a sip from it. Monica wouldn’t last long, either by design or necessity, sadly. He had no desire to turn her, and therefore once their honeymoon was over, he’d drink her dry.

But they could have fun together before then. He idly wondered if his siblings would try to get a piece of her before she was gone. Lana, most certainly. Mael, perhaps.

His thoughts turned back to Monica. Tasty little thing. But he had the sincere suspicion that she’d be disappointing. Like ordering a plate of food from an expensive menu only to find it was a single floret of broccoli sitting in the middle of an empty plate.

All anticipation. No meat.

“I should wait until after the wedding to destroy her, I suppose.” He took another sip of the blood before setting the glass down with a clink. “Bad form to have a vacant-eyed bride at the altar.”

Ivan shrugged. “Doubt anybody would be shocked.”

“Perhaps. But I wouldn’t hear the end of it from Mother.” He sighed. “I’ll be a good boy and wait.”

Ivan snorted a single, incredulous laugh.

Raziel grinned. “I will! I promise.”

Adorable, innocent little Monica, sold to a monster.

Raziel’s last toy had been found walking the streets of the city, stark-raving mad, begging anyone to forgive him for his misdeeds. Begging to be punished. He’d wandered into a canal and that was the end of that.

Poor Oliver. But like all his partners, Oliver had been weak.

What Raziel needed was a challenge.

Kicking his feet up on the coffee table, he leaned his head back on the sofa, and shut his eyes. For now, he would dream of all the terrible and wonderful things he would do to Monica when she was his wife.

Though…maybe there was a little fun to be had before the wedding.

Maybe just a little.