Page 30 of The Vampire’s Mercy (Blood Melody #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

PARIS

“His Glorious Majesty, King Silvanus!” someone announced.

The ballroom of dancing vampires paused, the string quartet falling silent.

Dressed to the nines, the bloodsuckers gathered on the gleaming obsidian marble floor, bowing to their king while shooting me some quizzical looks.

My senses pinged with alert, my blood stirring, all of me ready to kill.

Silvanus asked them to continue, the musicians and dancers immediately getting back to business.

The king offered me his arm.

“What’s that for?” I questioned.

“Link yours with mine,” he said.

And touch you? “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Refraining from an epic eyeroll, I did as he asked. Man, this felt so wrong, so alien.

Kind of awesome…

We walked in step, my skin crawling, my curiosity a series of whispers I quickly buried under a ton of concrete.

I took in the ballroom, ignoring the vamp death stares.

It was absolutely huge with tall ceilings and grand paintings hanging on the shiny ruby walls.

Eight golden chandeliers hung on golden chains, sparkling and expensive looking.

A pain for my eyes like the rest of this damn palace. Too gaudy, too fancy, too soulless.

The best part were the flowers spread around the edges of the room, nestled in ornate gold vases. Lilies, jasmine, some white orchids.

My heart ached for my poor Oliver. Man, I missed him so much. He’d been such a tough little guy, only to end up broken because of this prick beside me.

Well, because of me tumbling into the mantelpiece, but whatever. It was Silvanus’s fault.

I thought my hellos at the flowers, grateful for their essence. Their colors and perfumes became richer, their stems thicker.

Man, I’d never get tired of that.

Thrall guards in their red clothes lined the room’s perimeter, joined by vampire guards dressed in even fancier black uniforms. They flanked the three doors and the four sets of huge, curved widows, hints of a starry night beyond the glass.

We arrived at an elevated platform with a black throne studded with rubies, two smaller chairs beside it. No rubies in those, just plain with black upholstery.

Elio stood beside the left one, his head dipped.

“Sit,” the king ordered, gesturing for me to take the right chair.

What happens now? I wanted to ask, parking my backside on the squishy seat.

Instead, I mirrored Elio’s perfect posture, folding my hands in my lap. I kept my eyes forward on the dancers, listening to the pretty music.

There were so many vamps. At least a hundred, maybe even more. And various mortals amongst them, every one of them beaming, proud to have made it to the palace on the arm of a fanged fucker.

Pfft. Idiots. What did the night have in store for them? Getting bitten and plowed? Yeah, so great, such an honor.

Aidan damn every one of you.

As the minutes went by, vampires came to greet the king, offering him gifts. The thralls flanking the platform would take the offerings after the king inspected them, thanking his preening guests.

Noble bloodsuckers, the kind who now worked on the Global Council, kissed his arse one after the other. Spewing sparkly word vomit, never failing to shoot me scarlet hate.

This was business? Court business? What a ball ache.

The free time gave me a chance to mull over the new details, although I failed to come up with any answers. In fact, being able to restore some of the king’s memories only made things worse.

How the hell could any elf do that? And why?

Yeah, yeah. So many whys, not enough explanations. As much as it pissed me off, I had to work with Silvanus to figure this out.

Then kill him later.

A familiar vampire showed up. The one with the super curly hair, a human woman on his arm, her metallic scent strong under a layer of sweet perfume.

Vaughn, that was it. Shit. My skin crawled from the smile he threw my way.

“Your Majesty,” he greeted with a bow.

The gold buttons on his long navy jacket glistened, his lowcut tee gaping open to reveal a muscular chest while he bowed, three gold chains hanging around his neck.

I clasped my hands tightly, my teeth set on edge.

He lifted his head, still smiling, but with his attention on the king.

The woman watched me though, also smiling, decked out in a navy ballgown with gold trim to match the vamp’s outfit, her red hair piled on top of her head in an elaborate sweep.

Ugh. Can I go home now?

“How are you, Lord Vaughn?” Silvanus asked.

“I’m well, my king,” he answered. “Pondering the news about your latest thrall.” His eyes flicked to me.

The king chuckled. “The gossip has been rife, I’m sure.”

Vaughn nodded. “I hope you haven’t had to hear too much of it.”

“I always hear too much,” King Prick retorted. “It comes with the role.”

The noble bloodsucker shook his head. “Say the word and I’ll have people reprimanded.”

Man, what a creep. He gave off extreme sleaze-bag vibes, the kind of person to always offer a big hug, his mind on the knife he’d readily jam into your back.

Had he told the king about him wanting to fuck me in his penthouse?

“No need,” the king answered. “But thank you for the offer.”

If Silvanus didn’t see straight through this guy, then wow. Just wow. Surely he felt things from his kin, able to pick up on everything.

Whatever. Not my problem, unless Vaughn decided to come at me again.

My fingers itched, whispers of both my weapons in my veins.

“Always,” Vaughn answered, proceeding to spout trivial shit I zoned out on.

I shuffled in my seat, the woman still staring at me, the light of a chandelier highlighting the freckles on her fair, pinkish face.

Vaughn noticed. “What is it, Sarah?”

She blinked, facing him. “I’m so entranced by this elf.”

He laughed. “Aren’t we all?”

From the corner of my eye, I saw the king lean forward. “His name is Paris Raine.”

She extended a hand to me. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sarah Hirst.”

I looked to the king, his face unreadable. “Can I shake it?”

“Of course.”

I took her hand. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“Ask me to dance.”

I froze. Her lips hadn’t moved. I’d been watching her, and those jammy red lips hadn’t moved.

“I’m talking in your head, Paris. Don’t react. Ask me to dance. I have to talk to you.”

Whoa.

Rather than faff about wondering if this was really happening, I asked her to dance.

“Would that be alright with you, Your Majesty?” she asked.

He smiled warmly at her. “It’s a ball, isn’t it?”

“I’m so delighted!” she proclaimed.

Vaughn didn’t seem too happy, the grin on his face cracking.

I slapped on my game face and stood up. Luckily, I could dance. I’d always been a good mover, my sister the awkward one.

Pearl…

I’m sorry I’m here, sis.

I took charge, leading Sarah down the stairs into the throng. Bodies moved out of our way, giving us space.

“Can you hear me if I think?” I tried.

“Yes.”

Glancing over to the throne, the two vampires watched our every move.

I led the dance, moving in perfect step with her. “Who are you?”

“A messenger. This is a spell.”

“No shit. How did you get past all the security?”

I spun her.

“The mages are always finding new ways of slipping through the nets,” she answered, then started speaking out loud about the glorious night.

“You’re not a mage, right?” There wasn’t an orange mark on her left cheek.

“No. But there’s a mage here.”

“Oh? Who?”

“Vaughn brought him. I don’t know his name, but he looks like Father Frost.”

I snorted. “What’s he doing here?”

“Here to see you.”

My insides twisted nervously. “What—”

“We don’t have long until the spell drops,” she continued inside my mind. “So let me speak.”

I let her, her outside voice complementing my hair color and how jealous she was of it.

“We’ll be getting you out of here, Paris. There’s a plan in place to attack the palace within the next week.”

How I didn’t stumble with shock was beyond me. “Huh?”

My heart skipped several beats. They were getting me out? Really?

“You heard right,” she said. “You’ll soon be home without the thrall bond, so keep safe and stay alive.”

Waves of elation and confusion crashed down on me. “I’m going home? You can break the bond?”

“As long as you don’t get killed.”

“I won’t, but—”

“But what?” she cut me off. “Don’t tell me you want to stay with him?”

“Do you want me to puke on your dress?”

“You wouldn’t be the first guy to do that.” She laughed out loud. “When the attack comes, get somewhere safe.”

By Aidan, this was awesome. “You can’t kill the king easily. He’s…reinforced.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning don’t worry about anything other than putting your feet up next weekend. The king’s death isn’t our priority, bringing down his palaces are.”

Whoa.

I dipped her. “Is Vaughn in on this?”

“No. He’s clueless.” She blinked three times. “Spell is breaking. But how are you holding up here?”

“As sweetcream as can be.”

The band stopped, everyone applauding the musicians. I went to ask her if she knew Hal, despite wanting to break his fucking jaw. But a crackle of white noise drowned me out.

“You’re a great dancer,” Sarah said. “Thank you.”

Spell officially over.

“You, too,” I answered, kissing her on the hand.

I’m getting out of here…

A presence lingered at my back, Sarah’s brown eyes moving to it.

To him.

I turned, facing the vampire king.

“May I cut in?” he asked.

I swallowed a lump. “Erm… Sure…”

He smiled. “Vaughn is waiting for you, Sarah.”

She bowed and left.

Silvanus’s hand found my waist. I quivered under his touch.

Why are you quivering?

His fingers interlocked with mine, his skin as smooth as silk.

There went my quivering again.

The bodies around us fanned out, too many stares burning into me like hot lasers. But the king didn’t seem to care. He pinned me with his scarlet orbs, his scent in my nose, a strange, heady lightness coming over me as if a switch had flipped, making me want to be this close to him.

A shaky breath passed my lips as the music started. My skin sparked with want, the ballroom fading away into a ring of color and light, nothing but him and me at the center of it.

What the hell?

We moved in perfect synchronicity, never breaking eye contact. One step, two step, twirl and spin and dip. Connected to the music, in tune with each other, lost to the dance. I forgot about Sarah and everything she’d said. Slipping away, away, away.

You and I, my king.

His skin, his aroma, his solid body right there. Perfection, heavenly, everything I could ask for. If only he wasn’t a vampire, then maybe we’d stand a chance to…

A chance to what?

Thank Aidan for the sudden smack of reason.

I shook my head, stumbling this time. “Shit.”

He steadied me. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” I righted myself, taking a step back from him. “Can I take a break?”

He cocked his head to the side. “There’s a gentleman here to see you.” He moved closer, linking my arm with his again.

My dreamy state fizzled away.

We received some applause, albeit with reluctant undertones, but it was Elio who caught my attention over on the platform. The only one not clapping, his fury practically coming off him in heatwaves.

Yeah, he was jealous. Severely jealous.

Man, he had no reason to be. There’d been nothing more than some silly dancing between the king and I.

Seriously, what the hell had that been about? Why the dance? Because he could?

When we exited the ballroom, I asked him.

“Because I can do whatever I want,” he answered.

Uh-huh. “Like throwing me in everyone’s face?”

He chuckled. “Exactly.”

“Right.”

I’m getting out of here.

Freedom trumped answers to the weirdness.

Right?

We went down a black-and-red corridor, turning left into a room, the door opening automatically for him.

Inside, I came face-to-face with Father Frost.