20. Chapter 20

20

Chapter 20

Darick

I sit back in the buttery leather seat of Marcus's luxury SUV, city lights flashing by as we glide through town. I flick my tongue over my lip yet again, seeking out the sweet tang of her blood. A drop. Just one drop. Not enough, and yet it brought with it a torrent of power that I'm beginning to crave.

No time for that now.

I have other things to worry about. I frown down at the invitation in my hand, the thick ivory-colored card marked with a familiar family crest. Gold foil gleams in the shape of an "M."

"What are you up to, Lucien Marlowe?" A gathering at the Nocturne Lounge. It's where the Assembly often gets together for their meetings. But that's always in the private room at the back. Tonight, it seems Lucien has reserved the supper club area of the lounge for a social function.

A goddamn "social function." And he's invited me. Along with God knows who else.

I re-read the wording on the card, eyebrows pulling together. I hadn't expected him to give up after our last run-in, but I hadn't figured his next attack would come so soon, either.

"What the fuck are you up to?" I rub my jaw.

"Are you going to keep talking to yourself over there?" Marcus shoots a sidelong glance at me. "Or would you like to discuss this with me?"

It was his idea to drive through tonight rather than travel through the shadows as I prefer. He thought it would give us a chance to go over a gameplan. It's probably a good idea. Plus, he likes to drive, so I guess it serves two purposes. He maneuvers the vehicle expertly through the streets, the powerful engine roaring as he puts his foot flat.

I sigh, turning the invitation over in my hands. "Lucien knows about the Bloodbane. He's going to try to expose me to the others." I haven't raised this with Marcus till now, preferring to process the information for a while.

Marcus's grip tightens on the steering wheel. "Shit. Are you certain?"

"He said it to my face. He's just looking for a way to make it undeniable."

We drive in silence for a moment, the weight of this revelation settling over us. Marcus finally breaks it. "We need a plan. Some way to discredit him before he can make his move."

I nod, thinking through possibilities. "We could try to catch him in the act of something compromising. But he's too careful for that."

"What about allies? Who can we count on to stand with us if it comes down to it?"

I consider this. "Arabella, maybe. She's always been fair. But even she might hesitate if there's concrete proof against me."

Marcus hums thoughtfully. "What about a preemptive strike?" He suggests. "We go to the Assembly first, admit to some minor symptoms but frame it as something you're overcoming. It could take the wind out of Lucien's sails."

I mull this over. It's not the first time he's suggested this. It's dangerous, but it might be an option. "It could work. We'd need to be careful about how we present it. Make it seem like a strength rather than a weakness."

"And we'd need backup plans," Marcus adds. "Ways to deflect or discredit any evidence Lucien might bring forward."

I nod. "Alright. I'll give it some thought…flesh things out." We're pulling up outside the entrance to the club; a valet runs forward to open the car door. I get out and straighten my lapels, waiting for Marcus to walk up beside me.

"Dress code said formal, you ass." I frown at him. He glances down at his dark camo jacket and boots.

"This is formal. I'm wearing my good underwear." He grins as he tosses his keys to the valet and strides forward.

Heading through the gleaming glass doors, we step into the Nocturne Lounge. The first thing that hits me is the smell. The cloying scent of expensive perfumes mingles with the faint, metallic tang of blood. The club pulses with energy, a mix of pounding music and the electric buzz of supernatural power. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over the crowd, their light dancing off champagne flutes and bared fangs alike.

Marcus follows close behind as I make my way through the throng. Humans press close, their eyes wide with adoration and fear. I can smell their excitement, hear the quickening of their pulses as we pass. It once was intoxicating, this idolatry, the promise of blood…and anything else I wanted. But that was a long time ago. Now, they simply annoy me.

The main floor is a sea of beautiful faces. Vampires, eternally young and impossibly alluring, mingle with their human admirers. Women in clingy dresses and men in tailored suits sip champagne. Laughter tinkles, fake and forced. It's a carefully curated image of vampire society – all glitter and glamor, with dark danger hidden just beneath the surface.

I spot Arabella Ravenscroft across the room. She catches my eye and nods, her face unreadable. I make my way over, steeling myself for the conversation ahead.

"Darick," she greets me, her voice carrying easily over the music. "Good to see you."

"Arabella," I reply, bowing my head slightly. "It's good to see you, too. I trust you're well?"

She smiles warmly, nodding a greeting to Marcus beside me. "As well as can be expected. Have you spoken with Lucien yet?"

I shake my head. "Not yet. I'm sure he'll make his presence known soon enough."

"Lady Ravenscroft. Greetings," a voice interrupts us. I turn to see Victor Valmont approaching, his dark eyes gleaming with barely concealed curiosity.

"Darick Drake," he says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. I force myself not to stiffen. "Your display yesterday was pretty impressive."

Arabella glances at me curiously, but I keep my attention on Valmont. "Victor. I didn't expect to see you here tonight."

He shrugs, a smooth motion that speaks of centuries of practiced grace. "Lucien's invitations are hard to refuse. Besides, I wouldn't miss this…gathering… for the world."

I give a tight nod, wondering what that could possibly mean, but don't press for details. I'm certain I'll find out soon enough.

"Lucien certainly has a knack for the dramatic." Arabella laughs lightly. Outside of Assembly meetings, it's hard to think of her as our Grand Elder. She couldn't have been more than thirty when she was turned. The pale hair is deceptive.

As if summoned by his name, I feel a familiar presence at my back.

I spot Lucien across the room, and my jaw clenches involuntarily. He's on a raised dais, holding court like some demented king. His silver suit gleams, hair slicked back in a way that makes him look more reptilian than ever. Half-naked young women drape themselves around him, giggling and fawning.

It makes me sick.

"God, what an ass-hat," Marcus mutters beside me. I grimace in agreement. I'd rather not look but if I'm going to be here, I have to keep an eye on him. So I watch as he beckons to one of the women, tilting her head to expose her neck. She shivers in anticipation as he sinks his fangs into her flesh. As he begins to drink, she clings to him, her moans audible over the thump of the music.

My stomach turns. These "blood groupies" are a relatively new phenomenon, humans who get off on being bitten. Lucien's made it into a spectator sport.

His eyes meet mine over the woman's shoulder, and a smirk plays across his bloodstained lips when he lifts his head. He crooks a finger, summoning me. Reluctantly, I excuse myself from Arabella and Victor, making my way through the crowd.

Showtime.

"Darick!" Lucien's voice booms as I approach. "So good of you to join us. Care for a drink?"

He gestures to the array of willing victims surrounding him. There's a blonde, a brunette, a redhead, and a girl whose hair appears to be pink.

One in every color.

My throat constricts, the Bloodbane making even the thought of drinking from them nauseating.

"No, thank you," I say coolly. "I find drinking from flesh…distasteful these days."

Lucien's eyes narrow, a knowing gleam in them. "Oh, come now, surely you're not above a little indulgence? Or perhaps…" he pauses dramatically, "there's another reason you're abstaining?"

I force myself to remain impassive, though inside, I'm seething. He's trying to bait me, to expose my weakness in front of everyone. I won't give him the satisfaction.

"Some of us prefer to maintain a certain level of decorum, Lucien," I reply, not bothering to conceal my distaste. "But by all means, continue your little…performance."

The woman he'd been drinking from has sagged to the floor, thighs splayed, staring up at Lucien like he's some kind of god.

"You're sure I can't tempt you?" Amusement flickers in his eyes. "Babette over here is AB-negative." He slides his palm up the thigh of a nearby woman in red silk. "Very rare."

"I told you I'm not interested, Marlowe," I growl. Arabella and Victor have moved up to join us. Victor sinks into a black velvet armchair, crossing an ankle over his knee. A woman settles onto the arm of the chair, simpering at him. Arabella raises an eyebrow.

"Really?" says Lucien. "So interesting." He stands and walks over to me. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to offend me."

I feel the heat of their stares as Lucien pushes the issue. My jaw clenches, anger simmering beneath the surface. I know what he's doing, but I'm powerless to stop it without revealing my weakness.

"Oh, Darick," Lucien says smoothly. "Are you refusing a drink among friends? That would be…terribly rude."

I glance at Arabella and Victor, their expressions a mix of curiosity and suspicion. Damn it. I can't afford to look weak in front of them, not now.

"I assure you, I mean no offense," I say, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace. "I simply prefer to keep a clear head tonight."

Lucien's eyes glitter with malice. "Nonsense! We're celebrating. Ah, look – here comes Elias. He'll join us, won't you, old friend?"

Elias Thorne approaches, his piercing gaze taking in the scene. "Of course," he says smoothly. "What are we drinking to?"

"To Darick's health," Lucien announces, loud enough for nearby vampires to hear. "He's been looking a bit…peaky lately. I thought a good drink might perk him up."

I feel the noose tightening. Lucien snaps his fingers, and a server appears with a tray of crystal glasses filled with deep red liquid. The scent hits me, and I have to fight not to recoil.

"A toast," Lucien declares, raising his glass. The others follow suit, all eyes on me.

I reach for a glass, my hand steady through sheer force of will. The blood sloshes gently, and I can feel my stomach turning already. If I drink this, I'll be violently ill in front of everyone. If I don't, I might as well hand over my leadership to Lucien right now.

Lucien's smirk widens as he watches me, knowing he has me cornered. The amusement in his eyes is unbearable. I lift the glass to my lips, my mind racing for a way out of this trap.

I'm about to take a sip when Marcus suddenly appears, jostling my arm. The glass slips from my grasp, shattering on the floor. Blood splashes across my shoes and the hem of Lucien's ridiculous silver trousers.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Marcus says, not sounding sorry at all. "Let me get that cleaned up."

Lucien's eyes narrow, but his smile never wavers. "No need, my friend. Accidents happen." He snaps his fingers, and a server hurries over with a cloth.

"Allow me to pour you another, Darick," Lucien says smoothly. He reaches for an ornate decanter on a nearby table. "This is from my private stock. I think you'll find it…quite special."

He fills a fresh glass and hands it to me, leaning in close. His breath is cool against my ear as he murmurs so softly that I can barely hear, "I think you'll find this more to your liking. It's…magical. Enjoy."

My stomach clenches. Witch blood. The solution to my affliction, but at what cost? I can feel everyone watching, waiting to see what I'll do. Even Arabella seems intrigued by the show.

With no other choice, I raise the glass to my lips and drink.

The taste floods my mouth – rich, complex, with an underlying sweetness I wasn't expecting. It slides down my throat easily, no hint of the nausea that's plagued me lately. But there's something…off about it. A bitterness that lingers, reminding me of the price paid for this "cure."

I finish the glass, fighting to keep my expression neutral. "Thank you, Lucien. That was…enlightening."

He smirks, clearly pleased with himself. "I'm so glad you enjoyed it."

The other vampires begin to drift away, sensing the show is over. Soon, it's just Lucien and me, locked in a silent battle of wills.

"There's more where that came from. Plenty of it." Lucien's eyes are steady, mocking, and I know what he's telling me. He has a source of this blood.

Motherfucker!

I clench my fists, wanting to rip Lucien's smug face off. His words slither around me like poison.

"It's only a matter of time, Darick," he says, his voice low and menacing. "The others will find out about your little…problem. And when they do, well…" He chuckles, the sound grating on every one of my nerves. "Next time, it won't be witch blood in that glass. It'll be human, and everyone will see your weakness."

I remain silent, jaw tight, as he continues. "Unless, of course, you decide to work with me. I can keep your secret, provide you with what you need. It could be a mutually beneficial arrangement."

The thought of allying myself with Lucien makes my skin crawl. But he's not done.

"Of course, if you refuse, that works for me, too," he says with a shrug. "A leaderless Clan Sanguis? I'd be more than happy to step in, fill that power vacuum. It might take a bit longer to get what I want, but…" His lips curl into a cruel smile. "I have all the time in the world."

Rage boils inside me, threatening to spill over. The urge to lash out, to make him pay for his threats, is almost overwhelming. But I won't.

Instead, I turn on my heel, disgust etched into every line of my body. As I stalk away, Lucien's mocking laughter follows me, echoing in my ears and fueling my fury.