Page 9 of The Serpent’s Bride (Bloodlines #1)

FIVE

For a moment, Nadi considered her approach. Raziel likely expected Monica to be a boring, idiotic, and naive country girl. She could use that—keep him off guard. He had no idea what he was dealing with.

Cracking her neck from one side to the other, she put on her best smile and opened the door. Hank was waiting for her in the hallway. He was clearly trying to appear bored, to show her she meant nothing. But the way he stared when she walked out of the room gave her a spark of pride.

Monica might look like an innocent farm girl. But that didn’t mean Nadi had to wear her like one. “Lead on.” She gestured down the hallway, eager to get going. And eager now for Hank to stop staring at her cleavage. Monica was an ample girl.

Hank cleared his throat and started walking. She followed him, head held high. She was glad she was practiced in heels.

This outfit was designed to put Monica on full display, but also to make her deeply uncomfortable.

Nadi was going to make everyone else uncomfortable, instead.

By fucking owning it.

Hank brought her to the balcony that overlooked the large, fenced-in back yard. The sky was lit by one half-moon and a sea of stars. There was an in-ground pool back there— of course he has a pool— the yard and gardens elegantly lit by pockets of glowing lamps on stanchions.

Suddenly, she very much was looking forward to going swimming, if she survived long enough.

At least there would be one upside to this insane plan, besides the revenge.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had been able to go swimming.

She wouldn’t dare to do so in her true form, but just the idea of being fully submerged in water made her smile.

A table on the balcony was set for two, draped in a white cloth with plates and expensive silverware arranged just so. Raziel was already seated, a crystal wine glass perched between his fingertips and filled with crimson liquid. Nadi knew it wasn’t wine.

The sound of her heels clicking on the stone of the balcony caught Raziel’s attention. As he turned to look at her, she couldn’t help but smile at the way his red eyes went just a little bit wide.

Keeping her head held high and her shoulders straight, she brushed past Hank to approach the table. It was clear neither of the two men were going to pull out the chair for her. Fine by her.

Raziel stared at her, eyes glued, as she walked up to the chair opposite him.

Placing her hand on the back of the chair, she smiled and leaned over just a little to pull the chair out. Monica had nice assets; she might as well use them while she was wearing them. “May I?”

Her words seemed to shake him out of something. Clearing his throat, he gestured aimlessly with his wine glass. “Help yourself.”

Sitting down, she ignored Raziel’s staring. “I can’t thank you enough for leaving me in my room all day. That was so thoughtful of you—I was absolutely exhausted from the travel.” There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

He didn’t seem to know what to do with that. “I…yes, I expect you would have been.”

A waiter—of course he had gods-damned waiters —came up to pour her a glass of white wine. She thanked the man kindly and waited until he walked away to pick up her glass and take a sip of it. It was fantastic. And, as far as she could tell, not drugged.

How positively polite of him. Though, she supposed he was a renowned hypnotist. He didn’t need drugs to get humans to do what he wanted. “How was your day?” It was fun, being unshakably perky in the face of what was obviously meant to be an intimidating situation. “Did you get your business done?”

“Hm?” He was staring at something else that was perky. Not exactly her fault—it was cold out and the dress didn’t let her wear a brassiere or a corset or even a slip.

Stare all you like, arsehole.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention out over the back yard, clearly trying to peel himself away from her. There was that welling sense of pride in her heart. He wanted her—that was obvious. And as he shifted in his seat—it seemed he was also a little uncomfortable.

Good.

“My day was fine.” He sipped his “wine.” The way it stained the edges of the glass told her it was blood.

Hopefully, that meant he’d keep true to his word and keep his fangs away from her neck until after the wedding.

She wasn’t sure what would happen when he bit her—if her glamor would hold until after he tasted her blood, or if he’d instantly know what she was—and she didn’t want to find out until she had a chance to kill him first.

That was a problem for another night. She focused on the now. And right now, she was winning. Raziel didn’t seem to know what to say. Or do. Her appearance and tone must have derailed his game.

“What is it that you do for work?” Reaching over the table, she picked up a tiny loaf of bread from a bowl and placed it on the porcelain plate in front of her. Tearing off a piece, she lifted it to her mouth. “Father wouldn’t say.”

“My family works in shipping and receiving, mostly.”

That was a comically understated way of putting it, though she supposed she had to admit that it was technically true. His family shipped and received drugs, guns, people, stolen goods, contraband, corpses…

“Is it interesting work?” She made sure to chew and swallow the bread before speaking. Even ranch girls had manners.

“Sometimes, it can be fascinating. Other times, I am little more than a well-paid errand boy.” He finally regained control of whatever was going on in his head, and turned those red eyes back to her. He studied her silently between sips from his glass.

Huh. She had never heard of any rift between the Nostrom siblings. From the outside they’d always looked to be a tight-knit operation. “You don’t get along with your family?”

“Hardly what I said.” Those red eyes stared through her. She had gone too far. That question had come from Nadi, not Monica. She’d have to be more careful next time. “Merely that my work often involves cleaning up their mistakes. But as the youngest, that is my duty.”

“Oh.” She paused, and recalled everything she could about the real Monica.

“I have a younger sister. She usually gets away with everything, though.” Quick, idiot, change the subject!

“What’s that?” She pointed at his glass.

She knew the answer. She just wanted to see what he’d say about it. “Doesn’t look like normal wine.”

His smile was thin and wry. “Astute. It isn’t.”

Nadi expected him to say something foreboding, trying to intimidate her with “It’s blood” or something of the like.

Instead, he held the glass out to her. “Try some.”

Blinking, she took the glass from him and sniffed it. The metallic smell of the blood mixed with wine made her want to turn her head away. But Raziel was watching her with those red eyes of his, and she knew it was a test.

She felt like she was in one of those human medical auditoriums being dissected by a team of doctors. For a split second, she wondered if he could see through her glamor, she felt so exposed.

No wonder people were so afraid of him.

She had to force herself to move. After a beat, she took a sip of the substance.

It was vile. It wasn’t the first time she’d tasted blood.

But it was certainly the first time she’d drunk it with red wine.

She wrinkled her nose and handed the glass back to him.

“Going to be honest, it’s not my favorite thing in the world. ”

That seemed to impress him, if even just a little bit. He chuckled as he took the glass from her and took his own sip from it. “It is…an acquired taste.”

Silence stretched between them as she munched contentedly on the bread and occasionally sipped her own, non-bloody wine. It was his turn to move the next piece on the board.

When he pushed up from his chair, it took every ounce of her willpower not to tense up. Monica might be a little jumpy, but she wouldn’t be afraid to turn her back on him like Nadi was.

Which seemed to be exactly where Raziel was headed. He strolled behind her before trailing his fingers over her shoulder.

Goosebumps flooded over her in a wave. She shivered at the unexpected touch. His skin was unnaturally warm from the bloodwine. Behind her, he let out a pleased hum at her reaction.

He’s mistaking it for attraction. Nadi gritted her teeth. He’d just caught her by surprise, that was all. He trailed his fingers over her shoulder, and she turned her head to watch him. “Have you ever had lovers before?”

He lifted his hand from her shoulder briefly to turn her head forward again. He didn’t want her to see what he was doing. Or going to do. Her stomach twisted into a knot, but she obeyed.

She wanted to grab the knife from her plate. She wanted to drive it into the artery in his crotch. She wanted to watch him bleed out, screaming. “Are you asking me if I should be wearing white at our wedding?”

“I do not like being asked a question in exchange for a question…” His tone dropped to a low, quiet rumble, like a storm on the horizon. “So, simply answer mine, would you?”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she took a moment.

It was a threat, plain as day. She wondered if Monica would see it for what it was, but she supposed she would want to make her new fiancé happy, so that didn’t really matter.

And she didn’t sense any vampiric magic in the statement.

Not yet. “I…once or twice. Only the one guy.”

“Good.” He traced his fingers over the tendon of her throat, just the tips of his nails. It made her shiver again. No one had ever touched her like that. “I despise the inexperienced.”

“O-oh.”

He leaned in closer, one hand on the table beside her, caging her in. His other hand wandered up her throat and to her hair before pulling the two pins out, undoing the bun. Her hair fell down around her face and shoulders. “Your hair stays down from now on.”