Page 5 of Curiosity Killed The Vampire

A ripple of dark laughter rose from his side, the kind that made the hair on the back of my neck prickle.

“Enough.”

Con’s voice cut through the noise like a blade.

Every head turned. Even Siris flinched.

He stepped forward from the shadows beside me, the soft leather of his boots whispering against the floor. There was no need for raised voices. No need for threat. The sheer presence of him—six and a half feet of calm, unflinching power—was enough to still the air.

“Whatever business you think you have with Rene,” Con said, tone measured but deadly, “ends here. Now.”

Siris opened his mouth, but the sound died before it could form. He wasn’t a fool. No one was—not when facing Constantine Vonhof in that mood.

Con’s eyes were pure gold under the chandelier light, predator-bright. “You’ll disperse,” he said, “before I lose my patience and remind you all that the punishment for insubordination hasn’t changed since the Old Law.”

One of Siris’ men shifted uneasily. Another took a step back.

Edward said nothing, but the slightest flicker of approval crossed his face.

After a long moment, Siris inclined his head, stiff and cold. “As you wish… my lord.” The emphasis wasn’t respect—it was recognition. A bitter acknowledgment of what everyone in that hall already knew.

The whispers started the moment they turned away. I didn’t need to hear the words to know their shape.

Successor. Chosen. Heir.

Con didn’t react, didn’t so much as blink, but I saw it—the way the gazes of every warrior, every guard, every watching vampire lingered on him as Siris and his cronies retreated down the corridor. He didn’t have to declare anything. Rene naming him had been enough. The entire mansion could feel the shift in the air.

If Rene fell, Constantine Vonhof would take the throne.

And the clans knew it.

The death dealers already respected him; the warriors would follow him without hesitation. Even the human delegates—those who’d never trusted vampire hierarchy—viewed him as the only thing standing between order and anarchy.

I watched as he gave Edward a short nod and turned away from the dispersing crowd, his expression calm, almost detached. But I knew better.

I’d seen that look before—on battlefields, before executions, in the quiet moments after impossible decisions. It was the face he wore when his responsibilities pressed too hard against his heart.

And I felt something cold settle in my stomach.

If Rene didn’t recover, Con would inherit a kingdom teetering on the brink. The clans would fracture without him—old rivalries, grudges centuries deep, breaking free the moment Rene’s body was laid to rest.

And I was putting Constantine in the crosshairs.

Me. My failure to secure the artifacts fast enough. My inability to unravel Valerian’s endgame. Every step we took now had the potential to make Con a target—not just for the witches or the warlocks, but for our own kind.

He paused at the base of the stairs, sensing my gaze, and turned. His eyes met mine across the space between us, unreadable but steady.

For a heartbeat, the noise of the hall—the shifting boots, the murmured speculation, the hum of restless magic—faded into nothing.

If I failed Rene, if the king of our kind fell… then Con would stand in his place. And if that happened, there wouldn’t just be political chaos.

There’d be war.

And I wasn’t sure anyone, not even him, could survive it.

CHAPTER 2

The foyer had just begun to settle after the earlier commotion when the great oak doors opened again, spilling pale light into the corridor. Two figures stepped through the threshold, moving with the careful grace of men still learning the balance of their new strength.