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Silence fell, and only the sound of the two humans breathing filled the air. Victus seemed to be contemplating my proposal as he peered up at the chandelier crystals.
Abacus patted his stomach and let out a disgusting burp. “You already know how much vampires hate angels, but mostly Seraphim. So, what you’re asking is ludicrous.”
“Why?” I curled my fingers into my palm, the candles inches away. I could use one as a weapon or toss it at any of them. “Don’t judge me or my fellow angels because of some past I do not know.”
Abacus furrowed his brow. “You really have no idea what happened, do you?”
“She’s lying.” Markane’s claws extended, gripping the armrests. “We should remind her. Do not ever forget what they have done to us.”
“What we have done to you?” I coiled my fingers around the syringe inside the pocket just in case. My pulse raced from our heated conversation and the vamps were unpredictable. “What about what you have done to the angels? Do not cast stones if you have not sinned.”
“Blah. Blah. Blah.” Markane opened and closed his fingers like a mouth talking. “That rule does not apply here.”
“Then what applies, you bloodsucking demon?” My grip tightened on the syringe, aching to take it out and jab it to his heart. “From the way your people acted in the stadium, apparently you don’t have any rules.”
Abacus sucked his fingers one at a time as he said with an even tone, “Best not call us demons. We despise that word.” He glanced at his brothers as he licked his lips. “But she’s right. We keep these untamed vamps happy so they don’t run off to the demons.”
“Don’t tell her things she doesn’t need to know.” Markane’s voice sliced through the air as sharp as the fangs he bared with a hiss.
Abacus flicked his wrist. “Ah. She knows. She knows more than she’s admitting. She’s a gods’ damned angel. Aren’t they like ‘all knowing’ kinds of beings?”
“Stop talking.” Victus inhaled a deep breath as he ran a hand down his face. “I’m going to have a chat with Gorgo.”
“And when you do …” I clenched my jaw and gripped the armrest. “Tell him he better have kept his promise or I will rip him to shreds.”
I didn’t want to mention Tank and Otis’s names. They better be okay, and I hoped Gorgo was on his way to the castle with my friends, intending to meet me there with Victus.
Abacus drank blood from his goblet and smacked his lips. “So violent, Little Bird. I think I like you. If we’re going to take her to Asmodeus, we should do this before Kristoff gets wind of her.”
“Who’s Kristoff?” I asked.
Markane’s irises turned darker than crimson, his facial muscles tight, and his voice dipped in disdain. “Someone you never want to meet.”
An eerie chill slithered down my arm.
Victus didn’t seemed disturbed so I dismissed this vampire named Kristoff, whoever the hell he was. I could only focus on one thing at a time, and my goal was to get to the castle.
Victus hiked an eyebrow at Abacus. “I’m not taking the feathered being to Asmodeus. I will not be responsible for her actions. And whatever may happen because of her, I don’t want the blame to fall on us.”
“You have to take me. As a Seraphim, I order you.”
I pounded my fist on the table harder than before, anger blazing through my bones. The candles bounced and almost tipped over. My plumes shuddered, ready to spread.
A rush of breeze swirled around me as the crystals chimed and the shadows cast from the flickering candlelight. Fingers coiled around my neck and lifted me up, my feet dangling a foot off the ground. Bright crimson eyes met mine as the dark thin veins slithered above his cheekbones.
I dug my claws into his shoulders to ease the tightness on my throat as my voice came out gruff. “You have a bad habit, vermin.”
This was the third time he’d seized my neck.
“You. Do. Not. Tell. Me. What. To. Do,” Victus gritted the words through his razor-sharp teeth. “I am a king. And I will never be your ally. You should never trust me or my kind. We hunt. We kill. Especially beautiful creatures with gilded wings. We are done with this discussion.”
“No, we’re not.” I glared right back, my nails clutching even harder.
He stiffened under my claw-like grip. Without the hematite cuffs, my strength was equal to his. He held his ground betraying no signs of discomfort, but he lowered me until we were face-to-face, and I knew then he was in pain.
Unable to breathe, I tried to lessen his viselike grip on my neck by balancing on the tips of my toes.
His mouth was mere inches from mine, his hot fuming breath fanning across my lips, sending a wave of warmth through me that was both unwelcome and dangerous. Even as he glared, his jaw clenching with anger and frustration, he was attractive. He didn’t deserve to be this good-looking.
