Page 65 of The Vampire Court

This is the first of the many games I will be forced to play before this meeting is over.

Clara’s blood will be replenished already now that she has my final mark. I will never take her blood like that again, even if the mark allows me to do so daily. She is not a food source, and I would never want her to feel as if she were.

I finish the last of the blood and set the cup down on the side table.

Elizabeth is making me wait. She would never summon me without being ready. She’s testing my patience, seeing how far she can push before I push back. I could wait here all day if I had to, but I decide that this game has gone on long enough.

Rising to my feet, I make my way toward the door as if to leave.

“Leaving so soon, Alaric?” Elizabeth croons.

Keeping my expression placid, I turn to her. She was watching me the entire time.

Elizabeth wears a glittering black dress similar in style to the one Clara wore last night. She is mocking me with it.

“I am sorry to keep you waiting.”

Elizabeth glides over to the selection of glasses and an assortment of drinks, ignoring the human’s blood prepared for her. She plucks an empty glass and pours in a red liquid, too thin to be blood. The warm scent of the fermented fruit tells me it’s wine.

She has never consumed anything other than blood in the past or, at the very least, mixed with blood.

This attempt at seeming more human to me isn’t fooling anyone. It’s a wasted effort. She must see that because, after a single sip, she taps her nails against the side of the glass, taking me in from head to toe.

“That was quite the stunt you pulled last night,” she says, moving closer with every step. “I am surprised you would risk those outside of the court knowing you would rather mark a murderer instead of doling out the justice we deserve.”

“Don’t pretend you give a shit about Rosalie’s death. You’re glad to be rid of her. You always made sure I knew she was a disgrace.” I bite out the words between clenched teeth. My jaw aches with the effort to hold back the snarl threatening to break loose. “The ability to save her was the only way I would ever let you turn me into this.”

She tilts her head and drags her teeth over her bottom lip. The movement ends with her fangs bared. “I didn’t know you had it in you to defy me like that.”

“I don’t know why you refuse to understand. I am playing by your rules and taking every right you have bestowed on us all. You’ve tried for years to persuade me to participate in your asinine claiming ritual, and now that I have, I will not allow anyone to take the human I had every right to claim and mark. Not even you.”

She tilts her head to the side. “But, shewasn’tmarked.”

“She is now.”

Elizabeth reaches up and cups my cheek, smiling fondly, but the expression quickly turns into a glower. She runs a sharpened nail down the side of my face with a slow, deliberate stroke. She presses harder and deeper until the scent of my own blood is thick on the air.

I don’t flinch. Already, the skin knits back together.

She brings her hand to her face, blood coating her finger and dripping down the back of her hand. Elizabeth lifts her cup without breaking eye contact, dipping her finger into the wine, stirring it around. She brings her finger to her mouth and sucks.

With a Cheshire grin, she takes a sip. “Mmm, that’s better,” she says, moving away from me. She tips the cup up and drains it. Her tongue darts out and licks at a stray drop from the corner of her mouth. “Your plan won’t work.”

“I don’t have a plan,” I say as she sets her glass down hard on the side table, next to the rapidly cooling chalice of blood. “But even by your laws, I have done nothing I was not entitled to. I gave her the final mark before another reclaimed her.”

Elizabeth crosses her arms under her chest, rolling her eyes. With the fire in the hearth on her other side, the edges of her profile glow orange and red.

“I will let you keep your silly humanif…” she trails off, giving me a sidelong glance. “You agree to finally be mine and take your place as crown prince.”

I laugh, harsh and humorless, before I can think to stop it. Elizabeth whirls, snarling. Cherno leaps off my shoulder and takes to the air. He spirals erratically around the room and settles on top of an empty, gilded birdcage near the bedroom door.

Looking her dead in the eye, I say, “I will never be yours.”

“You were once,” she says almost wistfully.

“Was I?” I snap.

I am weary of this conversation. Every day, it’s the same thing—her attempts to seduce, threaten, and cajole me in some way to play the part she has designed for me, a fate I want no part in.