I keep sipping wine, eyes on Tristan to gauge his reactions. But there’s nothing I can interpret, the vampire controls himself so well it’s frustrating. His indifference to me hurts so badly that my frustration turns to anger.
“Al right, I’ll do it.” I conclude coldly.
“Wonderful,” Mark reacts, and claps his hands like an enthusiastic child at the circus, or rather like a deranged clown.
“Soraya and Tristan will be leaving tomorrow. You, my love, will follow in two weeks.”
Mark forks another piece of beef into his mouth, while I drain my umpteenth glass of wine. This is so fucking sick.
Tristan
“DON’T FORGET, BOY,” Mark warns me in the semidarkness of his study. “You’re going there not only for Ruben, but for the secret of human immortality. Bring it to me, and I’ll grant you any wish.”
I snort, and Mark laughs.
“Actually, if you get me the secret, I’m thinking maybe we should keep in touch. You and I can help each other in the long run.”
I could snap and rip his face off. Everything is slimy about him, from his looks, to his voice and his intentions. The tone he uses on me, overly sweet, like honey, and slippery as venom. But I can feel his real urges behind all that, I know that he’d tear into me with his fangs, coiling around me and squeezing the life out of me.
“If I get you the secret of human immortality,” I say as I stand up and pace the study, my back to Mark so I don’t have to see his face. “I want you to let Isolde go, Serpaint.”
“Be careful,” he warns. “Some husbands would misconstrue your interest in their wives’ well-being.”
“I said it before, and I’ll say it again, until you understand—she is a member of the vampire royal family, and I’m bound to protect her.” I draw a chair and lean forward, my eyes piercing Serpaint’s. He doesn’t flinch, but something crosses his eyes, maybe a shade of insecurity.
“Listen, and listen well,” I begin in a low, growling voice. “When I agreed to stay and help you, I had a condition—that you wouldn’t touch Isolde again against her will. But you did. If I hear that you hurt her while I’m gone—” I let him finish the threat in his head.
Serpaint’s hands grip the elaborately carved chair arms. He’s growing so angry he’s about to shift. On the inside of my mouth, my fangs start to lengthen, too—I’d love to end this right here, right now. Resisting the scent of his blood is causing me a lot of trouble already. But attacking him would start a war between serpents and vampires, so I have more than myself to think about.
“Let me put this differently,” Serpaint begins. He looks at me with all the force of his sadism. “If my wife miraculously disappears during this mission, it’ll be on you. If I lose her, Prince of Spades, I’ll have you take her place in my bed, even though I’m as straight as they come. I will chain you in silver, keep sunlight only a curtain away from your pretty face, and do to you all the things I did to her, and more. Then, I’ll bring together all the serpent cells that I’m close to, and wage war against Vlad Dracula—with you in my power, he won’t dare use all his strength against me, because that would mean your death. I’ll make sure he knows that.”
My blood boils in my veins, and I can’t hide it. Fury burns its way out through my eyes. All I can think about is Isolde, my sweet white dove, trying to throw herself into the sea last night, determined to end her life. The life she spent helping women and children in wheelchairs, and wiping the excrements off of old people, saving their dignity and offering them warm beds, soup and comfort.
And what did she get in return from this fucking life? An abusive serpent husband who takes pleasure in hurting her, and an emotionally crippled lover who gets hard-ons while thinking about coming on her sweet angel face. My cock twitches as I remember her soft, warm thighs wrapped around my face last night. Yes, I gave her pleasure, and I’d gladly spend my life with my tongue inside of her. But I’m a monster and, in the long run, she’s in no less danger with me than she is with this monster.
Maybe I can’t make her happy, but I’ll sure as hell free her from this slimy bastard if it’s the last thing I do.
“So you see, Tristan DeKnight, Prince of Spades,” Mark continues, satisfied to see the rage in my face. “I have this figured out, and I’m five moves ahead.” He grins. “Look at you—did I actually crack that mask of ice of yours?”
“You’re the first one to do it, congratulations,” I grunt through my teeth.
He taps his lips with his forefinger, studying me. “I haven’t seen emotion on your face since I whipped you to death two hundred years ago. Now the subject of my wife is the first thing that brings out emotion in you. Interesting.” He studies me deeper. He pulls out his phone, turns on the camera and turns it around so that I can see myself.
“Look at you.”
I don’t want to play along, but curiosity gets the better of me. My eyes drop to the screen—the device is made of special plasma, a new kind that reflects vampires. Sure, as a serpent, he would have one of these.
I see a young man with blue eyes glinting sharp, like metal. My cheeks are harder than usual, the skin tight over my bones. The expression on my face growls I’ll-have-your-balls-and-stuff-them-in-your-mouth at Mark.
I push the device away. I force myself to speak, even though every muscle in my body screams for me to pull out my dagger and slash his throat. “If you keep hurting this girl, she won’t survive. I won’t go to the village, and implement the plan unless you do something to assure me she won’t be harmed while I’m gone.”
“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to trust me, Tristan boy,” Mark mocks. “But look at it this way—would I hurt my only weapon? Isolde is the only way I’ll get my hands on Ruben. I may enjoy bruising that white-rosy flesh of hers, but I have enough sense to refrain until she brings me Ruben.”
I’m ready to lunge at him over the desk, but a knock on the door saves him, followed by the alligator stepping in without permission.
“Boss, Timur is here. He says he has information on Father Ruben, and he’d sell it to you.”
Mark would usually reprimand the alligator harshly for having stepped into this study just like that, but I guess this news is just too good. By now I can read him all too well.
“Well, invite him in.”
The alligator shakes his tattooed head. “He won’t step inside the villa. He said he’d remain on the terrace.”
“Of course,” Mark looks at me as he pushes himself up from his chair. “There are stories in the town underworld about people coming in here, but never coming out. Can’t say I don’t understand the poor bastard’s concerns.”
I get up, too.
“No,” Mark says. “Wait here. We’re not done.”
He goes out of the office, and the alligator waits a few moments with his hand on the doorknob, giving me one of his best glares out of his scarred face. I run my tongue over my fangs on the inside of my mouth. Hatred is bubbling up inside of me, and I’d love to take it out on this big mean shifter.
But then Mark calls his name, and he closes the door behind him.