Page 3 of Let Sleeping Vampires Lie

“I always will.”

His words settled deep in my chest, heavy and steady, right where I’d been pretending nothing could reach me.

And all I could think was⁠—

Valerian wasn’t our only problem.

The clan wasn’t our only danger.

The bigger threat was how easily I could fall for the one vampire who made me feel stronger and more exposed than anyone ever had.

Con didn’t look away.

Neither did I.

And for a breath, the entire room, the fear, the chaos⁠—

It faded.

Leaving just the two of us.

Standing in the aftermath of a warlock’s threat⁠—

And on the edge of something far more dangerous.

The last of the panicked footsteps faded into the hallway, but the foyer didn’t fully settle. Two pockets of vampires still lingered, each radiating their own brand of tension.

On the left side of the room—Edward’s contingent of older vamps, all level-headed, loyal, and sharp-eyed. They watched everything, absorbing every shift in power like seasoned predators.

On the right—Siris and his pack of sycophants, clustered near the fireplace, whispering like a nest of snakes. They pretended casual interest, but their glances toward the stairs were hungry. Opportunistic. The kind of hunger that grew when a leader faltered.

I felt Con stiffen beside me the moment Siris’ gaze lifted toward us. There was an oily satisfaction in his expression, as if Valerian’s intrusion was a gift delivered straight into his hands.

Edward crossed the room toward us with long, confident strides. He cut an imposing figure—handsome, athletic, dark suit immaculate, but it was the calm intelligence in his blue eyes that made him dangerous.

“Cass. Constantine.” He greeted us with a respectful nod, though his attention was already sweeping the room as if he were analyzing a battlefield map.

Before either of us could speak, he asked quietly, “Is Rene stable?”

I answered immediately. “Yes. He’s weakened, but he isn’t down. He’s recovering with Raven.”

Edward let out a breath, relief softening his expression—right until his eyes flicked toward Con.

“You may have to take leadership sooner than you’d like.”

Con’s head snapped toward him so fast I felt the air stir.

“No.” His voice was a low, uncompromising growl. “Rene is still the overseer. That won’t change.”

Edward’s lips pressed together as if he expected that response but wished for another.

“This is bigger than you realize,” he said. “Siris is already stirring the pot. He’s pushing the idea that Rene is unfit, and after… this”—he gestured upward, toward the lingering shadow of Valerian’s laughter—“he’ll double down. Hard.”

Con’s jaw clenched so tightly the muscles popped. “If Siris tries to take advantage of this, I’ll behead him myself.”

Edward actually chuckled—a low, amused sound.

“That would certainly help my bid for clan leader,” he said lightly. “But the fallout would be… dramatic.”