Chapter 3

Chapter Three

UNDER THE DOME

T he guards hold the club doors open. At least they seem to recognise me. I realise that, maybe, this is going to be even more difficult than I thought. I lift my chin as I walk past the waiting line of people, clutching Kyle's hand as though it's stopping me from floating away. My legs feel as though they don't belong to me, my stomach an endless sea of rolling waves. I've never been anywhere without at least one of my parents. I've never been to a nightclub, either. And now I'm about to do both with someone who's basically a stranger. But if I want my plan to work, I have to get used to being alone. To being out in the world. Things will be different when I'm living with humans. There will be no guards, no Raven emblems, nothing to tie me to who I was. So I fight the urge to pull away, to run back to the safety of the car. As we enter the club the guards bow their heads, saying, ‘My lady.'

The doors close behind us, leaving us in a dark hallway. Kyle lets go of my hand, his lip curled. I rub my palm on my skirt.

‘Come on,' he says, impatient.

All at once, I'm angry. Who in darkness does he think he is? ‘Just a minute,' I snap.

He sighs. ‘Do you think I want to be here, either?'

‘What?'

‘I know you don't like me. I also don't care. But we can't stand in here all night. So let's just get it over with.'

My mouth opens, then closes. But before I can think of anything smart to say, Kyle opens another door, going through. I blink, then follow him into the nightclub.

Candles flicker at intervals along the walls, gold and black garlands hanging from their metal sconces. There's a large chandelier set high in the glittering domed roof, candlelight sparking from the mirror fragments embedded in the dark curves. People are everywhere, swaying on the dance floor, packed into lush red leather booths at the edges of the room.

‘Well, if it isn't the heir to Raven.' I turn to see a blonde vampire approaching. She's dressed in silver, tattered lace wrapped tight around her lean form. I vaguely recognise her.

‘Stella?' It's a shot in the dark, but hits true. She smiles, her green eyes lighting up.

‘You remembered! I'm so glad you could come. We don't see you that often. Still, I suppose that's not surprising.' Her head tilts to one side, the green eyes less warm, more calculating.

Oh, so this is how it's going to be, is it? ‘I don't go to many things. I choose my parties carefully.' I smile, not showing my teeth. Kyle coughs, though it sounds more like a laugh.

Stella narrows her eyes. ‘Well, we're honoured you decided to come to this one. You and your… friend.' Her gaze flicks to Kyle, then back to me. ‘Let me greet you properly, cousin .'

She takes me in her arms, cold and hard, her hug crushing. I can't breathe, and my legs buckle. Her face is buried in my hair, her nose moving across my neck, sniffing me. This is beyond the pale, even for family. ‘Stop,' I gasp.

‘Let her go, please.' The words are polite, softly spoken, but I feel Stella flinch, her grasp loosening. I take a deep breath, the muscles around my ribs protesting. Kyle has a hand at the back of my waist, the other still on Stella's shoulder. She's glaring at him.

‘How dare you!'

‘You were hurting her. Perhaps you forget?'

I'm still trying to catch my breath. Bitch. She did that on purpose. I shoot her a glare. ‘Nice to see you again, Stella.'

‘Sure, it's been a blast.' She curls her lip, then turns away.

‘Are you all right?' Kyle is close to me, his voice low.

‘What do you care? I'm fine.' I'm not fine. I'm furious. Stella and her friends are all staring at us. Kyle angles his body so they can't see me anymore. I can smell his violet scent, remember how his body felt against mine in the dark hallway. He's even more flawless close up, silver eyes a shimmer between dark lashes.

‘I care,' he breathes, ‘because it's my job. So don't give them the satisfaction.' He inclines his head slightly, eyes darting to one side.

‘ What? '

‘You're Emelia Raven. You're royalty. The heir to?—'

‘I don't need you to tell me what I am,' I hiss.

‘Good.' He grins, a flash of brightness in the dim light. He has dimples. Of course he does. ‘So start acting like it. I know this is a drag, you don't want to be here?—'

‘You don't know anything ,' I grind out the word, ‘about me.'

‘I know what I see,' he says. ‘So, we have a choice here.'

‘We do?' Part of me, despite the fact I can't stand him, feels drawn in. Beneath his violet vampire smell is something else, a fresh scent like green leaves. I consider holding my breath. Damn.

‘Yeah. You can smile, pretend you're enjoying yourself, and forget about them—' he grabs a glass from a passing waiter with a tray, giving it to me ‘—or we call the car and go home.'

I stare at him.

‘Make your choice. I have a job to do, and so do you. But we can't do it if you're going to spend the evening hiding in a corner.'

My mouth drops open in outrage. The drink is cold against my fingers, bubbles in the liquid popping like tiny sparks. I don't want to go home, I realise. Despite the fact I didn't want to come here, going home feels, somehow, like failure. I take a sip, cool sting at my throat, warmth spreading in my stomach. Then I smile. It's forced, at first. I grit my teeth. I'm not sure who I'm angry with anymore. I take another sip. More bubbles, more warmth. Screw them. I'm Emelia Raven. I'm?—

‘I think we should dance.'

My heart sinks.

Vampires, as in everything else they do, are beautiful when they dance. Their movements flow, their bodies undulating like serpents. There's a legend of a woman, Salome, who danced for a king long ago. Allegedly she was from one of the original families, of the Scorpion line. She did end up taking someone's head, if I remember right, so there might be something to the story. The dance floor here is no different, vampires swaying and twisting to the beat, human blood dancers dressed to thrill, necks and inner thighs and wrists exposed, the veins over their hearts highlighted with glitter, an invitation to drink. They're beautiful too, their exposed flesh taut and muscled.

And then there's me. ‘Dance? I'd rather sit down.' I scan the packed booths doubtfully.

Kyle shakes his head. ‘No. If I have to be here, we can at least try and have fun. We dance, we have a drink, and then we go. Or are you scared?' He says it like a challenge, scornfully, but something else flickers in his silver eyes.

Is he insane? I am raging . I down the rest of my drink. I shrug his hand off my arm and follow him into the writhing throng.

The music is fast, a human song from before the Rising. Stella is still watching me, whispering to her friends, all of them laughing. Screw them. I start to dance, trying to twist my body the way vampires do, my anger fading as the songs change, enjoying the strangeness of dancing in a crowd, rather than alone in the library at home. Then the beat slows. Vampires start swaying, some moving fast, in a blur, as though listening to music no one else can hear, while others are wrapped around each other. Blood dancers move through the crowd, trailing scented wrists past potential customers. A slender dark-skinned woman is pulled into a vampire's embrace, his fangs dropping as his mouth closes on her neck. Kyle moves closer, leaning in. I hold my breath.

‘Ready for a drink?'

I nod, annoyed that I'm disappointed, that part of me wanted him to pull me close. What the hell is wrong with me? It must just be a reaction to being out alone, to being vulnerable. Because I can't stand him. Yet I shiver when he takes my hand, pulling me through the crowd towards the bar area.

I stop walking.

He doesn't.

Oh gods. In several cages behind the long leather bar, there are humans. Men, women, all different sizes and colours. Mostly naked, other than scraps of fabric covering their most private areas. Their skin glistens in the candlelight, their eyes staring dreamily into the distance. I've never seen anything like this.

Kyle leans on the polished wooden counter. I swallow, then go to stand next to him, trying to act as though this is all normal. But inside I'm shaking. I dart a glance at the caged humans, my heart pounding. Our Raven blood dancers, lithe and healthy, many from families who've worked for us for generations, seem a long way from these humans curled up behind metal bars. I wonder what they've done to be punished so.

One of the cages swings out, the young man inside sliding his arm through a metal hole. A vampire grabs it, biting down hard. Blood spatters onto the bar, close to us. I try not to flinch. The boy pulls his arm back, his cage rattling. The vampire lets go, gesturing and shouting. There's blood on his mouth, and I smell sweat and violets. A huge vampire, twining tattoos along both exposed muscular arms, stands up from behind the bar. He gives something to the caged boy then turns to the customer, swinging out another cage with an older man in it, whose arm slides through the hole in the bars. The boy in the cage puts whatever the huge vampire gave him in his mouth, his eyes closing as he swallows.

‘Ira!' calls Kyle.

The huge vampire turns. He grins, a curving scar up his cheek carving a white line in one dark eyebrow as he reaches to clasp Kyle's hand. ‘Kyle! You made it out of the pits, then?' His glacier-blue eyes come to rest on me. They widen, then flick back to Kyle. ‘Who is this you bring me?'

Kyle laughs. ‘She's not for you. This is Emelia Raven.' At this the dark eyebrows go way up, and Ira's expression changes from avid to respectful.

‘Raven? Is that so?'

I nod, still shaken. ‘Yes.'

‘But you are – forgive me?—'

‘I'm the heir.' Yeah, I know I don't want to be. But still… I hold his gaze, daring him to challenge me, to say what I really am. Useless. Human.

Ira blinks. ‘Of course,' he says. ‘Tell me, do you like wine?'

‘Yes, I do.' Though I usually drink alone. Ira bends down under the bar. I hear clinking and rummaging. The cage closest to me holds the young man who refused the vampire. He's watching me. I meet his gaze, then wish I hadn't. His eyes are dark brown and filled with endless pain. There are puncture wounds on his neck, scratches under the hair on his chest, blood running from the wound in his arm. His genitals are barely covered with a suede loincloth. He holds my gaze briefly before looking down.

Ira emerges, a dusty bottle in one hand and a glass in the other. He opens the bottle and pours the wine. It's dark red, like old blood, the candlelight waking ruby glints in its depths. I pick up the glass and take a sip. It's sour at first, then I taste the sweetness of grapes, the heat of the sun. ‘It's very good. Thank you.'

Ira visibly relaxes. ‘I'm pleased,' he says. ‘Raven is always welcome here.'

Well, we would be, I think. This is our realm, after all. I drink more, finding I need it.

‘What can I get you?' Ira turns to Kyle, indicating the caged humans. ‘We have all blood types, plus these two—' he points to a stocky man who is staring and laughing, and an older woman, her blue eyes glazed ‘—have a little extra added, if you know what I mean.' He tops up my glass, looking expectantly at Kyle. ‘We have blood dancers, too, if you prefer,' he continues. ‘The Ravenna group brought their own, plus there's a few regulars. They cost a bit more, but free range always costs extra.' He nods conspiratorially. I avoid looking at the cages.

‘Yeah. I might have something later. What do we owe you?' Kyle nods towards my wine. Ira steps back, hands up, looking scandalised.

‘Nothing, nothing at all. It's an honour to see you here, really it is. Let me know if you need anything else.' He leans in close, jerking his head towards a darkened corridor to the left of the bar. ‘There are human facilities down there, if you have need. And we're well guarded tonight, my lady – you need have no fear of any unrest in here.'

‘Unrest?'

Ira seems about to say something more, but Kyle beats him to it. ‘She's with me, Ira – what more protection could she need?'