Page 146 of Trapped By the Blood Ruby

Laurent steeled himself to greet his family. I took in the subtle tension that radiated from his body. The clench of his jaw as he began to speak. “Welcome, House Sarkas, to Anoth. I take no joy in bringing you here under such dire circumstances. Look around you. Look at the empty seats beside you—brothers and sisters, daughters and sons, mothers and fathers—those who are no longer with us. Lives lost to an unnamed enemy.

“As the head of this house, it is my responsibility to see to the safety of our family. In this, I have failed.” Several surprised whispers rippled through the hall—Laurent never showed vulnerability publicly, never admitted failure before his entire house. The fact that he was doing so now spoke to how dire their situation had become. I reached under the table and found his thigh, squeezing. Just as I was about to pull away, his hand found mine, holding it in place. Our fingers laced together as he continued to speak. I felt some of the tension leave his body, though his voice remained steady and commanding. “As it is before any great battle, we will gather, we will prepare, and then we will strike. Anoth Fortress is the safest place for us. House Sarkas will prevail. The season is almost upon us, and we will use our time wisely, to plan our enemy’s downfall. We are at war, and this is my call to arms. Who among you will stand and fight?”

His words were met with complete silence.

“I will fight.” A female stood. Her hair was cropped short. She wore a formal pantsuit. Her chin was lifted in a haughty manner as she accepted Laurent’s challenge.

“Thank you, Sabine.”

“So will I,” said another voice as another female came to her feet. This woman had dark, ebony skin and stunning gold thread braided into her hair. Her dress was brightly colored in shades of sunset orange and pink.

“Count me in,” said a deep voice. A male stood near the back of the hall. He looked like an ancient viking. His form was hulking, forearms the size of tree trunks as he planted his feet and crossed his arms.

One after another, vampires shot to their feet, pledging to fight, until the entire room was standing. I couldn’t help but think this was symbolic. A king calling his knights to arms. It lasted nearly ten minutes until I was certain the entire room had pledged.

When the meal was served, the mood in the room felt less strained and more purposeful. I found myself admiring the way Laurent had handled everything. For the first time, I truly understood the weight he carried—not just as a vampire lord, but as someone responsible for hundreds of lives. The pressure was surely crushing. We had a battle to fight, a war to win. No matter what happened between us, I would be there to help him every step of the way.

37

We were back in Genia at the dressmaker’s. Laurent had relocated us to the townhouse yesterday after two weeks in Anoth. I was glad to be back in the city, away from the majority of his family. The townhouse was quieter and more intimate.

“You will be the belle of the ball, darling,” Zola gushed, looking me over during my final fitting.

This particular designer was by appointment only. Not only that, but he accepted a very small handful of clientele. Zola was one of his exclusive patrons. My entire wardrobe for the vampire season was being made by this single individual and his army of helpers.

“She is not wrong,” Gio, my dressmaker said. He spoke in heavily accented English as he pinned and tucked the midnight blue fabric around my body.

A male vampire appeared from the back of the shop. He strode over and gave Gio a kiss on the cheek, depositing a large latte beside him. “Here you are, love. I’ll be in the office if you need anything.” Gio looked up at him with soft eyes and an even softer smile.

“Thank you, Corda.”

I bit my lip at their display of tenderness, reminded of my own feelings for Laurent. Not that I’d been able to act on them. Back at Anoth, most of my time had been spent pouring over papers my advisor sent me or training with Hassan. Both activities helped fill the time and distract me from my desire to rip Laurent’s clothes off.

We still fed from each other regularly, so I was getting a steady dose of orgasms from that alone. But I refused to let him touch me the way I yearned to be touched—the way he yearned to touch me. It only served to irritate him, which then served to make our feedings more aggressive.

My cheeks reddened beneath the pedestal’s soft light. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. Anyone looking at me would likely surmise my thoughts, let alone smell them, since vampires could smell such things.

Last night, Laurent had been particularly relentless. He had not stopped after my first orgasm as he fed from me, but waited until a second had blindsided me. Only then did he gently lower me to the couch. I was near dizzy with pleasure and blood loss, but that was not enough to keep me from ordering his wandering hands to behave. Perhaps he’d thought that in my post-orgasm haze, my guard might be down.

Laurent was not one to be denied. Someone such as him was used to giving orders, not taking them. He let out an angry growl and stalked off to his study after that. Lately, he’d spent an unusual amount of time barricaded in there.

His inner circle suspected something was afoot, but everyone else was none the wiser. He still held my hand when we were in plain view of others. He still pulled me into his lap, or kissed me, or made suggestive comments in my presence, hoping to make me blush.

With each day, my frustration grew. I no longer knew if this was a fight for love, or merely a battle of wills over who was more stubborn. Lately, it seemed to morph into the latter. Which of us could hold out the longest? Was I ready to admit him incapable of love? Or was he ready to give me an answer? All it would take was a yes or no, and we could be back to doing what we wanted. But at least then I’d know what I needed to do. To open my heart to him, or silence my feelings forever.

“There. That’s the last of it. I’ll have everything ready in the next several hours, madame.”

“Just in time for tonight,” Zola purred, taking me in.

During the car ride over, I’d confessed to Zola about what was going on with Laurent and I. Since Vittorio and Hassan were in the front seat, they’d heard too, though they had pretended otherwise. I was glad of it. I got so little time with Zola these days. She was too busy rushing off between the fortress and Genia, carrying out all of Laurent’s orders.

“He will take one look at you and forget his pride. You will have an answer by the end of the night. I’m sure of it.” Despite her warning, she was rooting for me. She, too, had admitted that Laurent was showing a side he’d never shown before. That perhaps she’d been wrong. Perhaps he could be capable of love. Or at the least, try.

That was the keyword. Try—a willingness to try. It was all I really wanted.

How could he know the extent of his humanity if he didn’t test the boundaries? He wanted to believe he was nothing more than a monster. If he said it often enough, he could readily convince himself. I wanted to prove that there was more to him than that. Especially with each new memory I gained from his blood.

So, yes, maybe this was turning into a battle of wills. Maybe it went deeper than love.