Page 34

CHANEL

FOUR MONTHS LATER

I jolted awake to dead silence. My body sensed something was wrong before my mind could identify it.

The bedroom was a canvas of shadows. Chicago’s glowing landscape filtered through the reinforced windows of Zand’s loft.

My hand reached across the sheets, finding his side of the bed empty and cold.

Then I heard it. The hushed baritone of his voice came from across the room.

He was engaged in a whispered conversation not meant for my ears.

I adjusted my eyes to Zand. He was pacing near the floor-to-ceiling windows.

His shoulders formed a rigid line beneath his black t-shirt.

Tension was radiating from him in waves I could feel from across the room.

One of his hands gripped his phone with unnatural strain while the other hand ran through his hair repeatedly.

This gesture was so uncharacteristic of his usual composure that alarm bells immediately rang in my mind.

“That’s impossible.” He whispered, but his vampire whisper carried in the quiet bedroom. “You need to verify before—” He stopped abruptly, listening to whoever had disturbed our night with news that transformed my usually cool ass fiancé into an agitated stranger.

I pushed myself up against the headboard and let the sheets pool around my waist. “Zand?” My voice came out rough and sleepy.

He didn’t turn to acknowledge me. His focus remained entirely on his conversation. His body angled away as if physically shielding me from whatever information flowed through that phone.

“Check again.” He commanded. “I need absolute certainty.”

I cleared my throat. “Zand, what’s wrong?”

Still nothing. He continued pacing, five steps one way, pivot, and five steps back, like a caged animal.

My pulse quickened as I watched him. I cataloged the signs of his distress, the microscopic tremor in his usually steady hand, the tightening around his eyes visible even in his profile and the way his jaw clenched silently between sentences.

I’d never seen him like this, not even when we faced Teresa and Lonzo.

“No.” He hissed into the phone, stopping his pacing to press his forehead against the cool glass of the window.

“That changes everything.” A pause. “Are you absolutely certain?” Another pause, longer this time, during which his entire body goes motionless like only vampires or talented actors could achieve.

“Come here right now. All of you. I don’t care what time it is. ”

I threw the covers off. I was fully awake now and moving toward him. Concern superseded the instinct to give him space. “Zand!”

He turned as I approached. His eyes met mine for the first time since I woke.

Something flashed across his face. Surprise, then concern, then something else I couldn’t label.

Then his features smoothed into careful neutrality.

He ended the call with a swift movement, dropping the phone into his pocket.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He barked. The words were so at odds with everything about his demeanor. His eyes slid away from mine, another warning sign from someone who usually held my gaze with an intensity that made my pussy vibrate.

“You’re lying.” I replied, reaching for his arm, but he had already moved past me. He headed for the bedroom door with long, purposeful strides.

“Go back to sleep.” He said over his shoulder. “It’s too early.”

Before I could formulate a sassy response, he was through the door, pulling it firmly shut behind him. What the fuck just happened?

I stood frozen in the middle of the room, barefoot on the cool hardwood.

After everything we’d been through, Teresa’s death, Lonzo’s execution, my acceptance of his world and all its violent necessities, now he shuts me out?

Now, when we should be celebrating our victory and our future together.

What about the honesty and the sharing? Apparently, some promises were easier to make than keep.

I paced the same path Zand had traced minutes earlier.

My mind was racing through possibilities.

Was there another threat? Perhaps Teresa or Lonzo had some remaining allies?

But none of these explanations justified shutting me out.

Especially after I proved myself by helping execute our enemies, and after I agreed to be his queen.

Beyond the closed door, I heard the low murmur of voices from downstairs.

Zand was on another call, or perhaps someone had already arrived.

The urgency in his final command suggested this gathering wouldn’t wait until morning.

Whatever crisis had developed, it was happening now, with or without my participation.

I hovered near the door, my hand rested on the cool metal of the handle. Indecision paralyzed me. Following him meant confrontation. It meant I was going to demand inclusion in whatever crisis had erupted.

My engagement ring suddenly felt heavy on my finger. What kind of queen allowed herself to be locked away in a tower while the king held council below? What kind of marriage could survive when he was deliberately excluding me?

I dropped my hand from the door handle and took a step back.

It was time for me to chill. I wouldn’t chase him.

I sure as hell wouldn’t beg him. If Zand wanted to resurrect walls between us, he’d have to do it while looking me in the eye.

I could give him five minutes to reconsider, to remember who we are to each other now and what we’ve promised to be.

And then I’m going downstairs to claim my place at his side, whether he likes it or not.

It was time for me to get ready for the day.

I couldn’t get back to sleep. The bathroom felt like a space of comfort as I stripped and stepped into the shower.

I turned the water temperature as high as I could stand.

Steam billowed around me, warming me up.

The expensive body wash was a small luxury that I savored.

I rinsed quickly and stepped out onto the marble floor.

I braced myself in front of the mirror. My reflection stared back.

Water droplets trailed down my neck like silent accusations.

Whatever was happening downstairs, I’m being deliberately excluded, and that knowledge burned hotter than anger.

Five minutes had passed, then ten, and still no sign of Zand returning to explain his rude behavior.

Fine. If the king won’t come to the queen, the queen will go to the king.

I dressed in dark jeans, a simple black tank top, hair twisted into a quick knot at the nape of my neck. No makeup, no jewelry except for the black diamond engagement ring that suddenly felt like both armor and a challenge. We weren’t married yet, and this was already getting difficult.

The marble floor and the bedroom mirror offered no encouragement, no solace. I turned away from my reflection, wrenching open the door with more force than necessary.

My bare feet made no sound on the sleek staircase as I descended.

One of my hands slid along the polished banister.

The loft was designed with vampire acoustics in mind.

Still, I heard snippets of urgent conversation drifting upward, coming from more than two voices.

Someone other than Zand was here now. Who?

It didn’t matter if they heard me coming. I’m here.

I rounded the final curve of the staircase and stopped dead in my tracks.

My fingers tightened on the banister. The living room had been transformed into a war meeting.

Zand stood at the center of a loose circle formed by Donté, Harlen, Morgan, Josh, and Natasha.

All six pairs of eyes turned toward me simultaneously.

What the hell was going on? And why was Morgan standing with these people?

That was my friend, despite her being a vampire.

Zand looked like a darker version of the man who left our bedroom.

His face was a mask of tension. His honey-colored eyes were without an emotion I could decipher.

Beside him, Donté’s usually relaxed features had hardened into something foreign.

Harlen fidgeted with nervous energy. While Morgan was frozen in place, Josh maintained his stoic facade, but his eyes tracked my movement with unusual intensity.

And Natasha watched me with the unflinching focus of a scientist observing a particularly interesting specimen.

What the fuck was going on? The silence stretched and filled the open space of the loft. I was the only human in a space full of vampires.

Fuck it! I stepped forward, breaking the silence. “What is this?” My irate voice was all they would get this early in the morning. “Why are all of you here this early in the morning?” It wasn’t even light outside yet. “Looking at me like I grew a second head?”

None of those blood drinkers responded. Zand’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

“Chanel.” He finally said my name. “Do you hear what I hear?”

The question made no sense. I frowned, scanning their pale faces for some hint of explanation. “What the fuck are you talking about?” It was too early in the morning to cuss, but oh well.

Zand tilted his head in a robotic way. “Listen. Just... listen. Do you hear it?”

“Hear what?” Frustration course through my voice as I took another step into the room. “All I see is a bunch of vampires being cryptic and weird in the morning.”

“Yes.” Morgan said. Her gray eyes were wide and focused. “It’s there. I can hear it too.”

Oh, okay. My bestie was about to be ten or twelve bitches if she didn’t tell me what the fuck was up. One by one, the others nodded.

“Yes.” They all said in near unison like church folks saying amen to a pastor.

Confusion twisted my brain and turned into panic. “Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”