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While they’re waiting, Gretchen—who’d been studying the design on her claw-tipped nails as Tamera and Leigh made small talk about new protective measures the patrollers are putting into place under Aleks—perks up suddenly. I have no idea why. In the time I’ve known her, she’s made it clear she finds that side of her beloveds dreadfully dull, but then she taps her nails against the table.
“Speaking of, can you believe the rebels are still finding a way to be such a massive pain in the neck?”
My stomach tightens. It’s suddenly queasy, and without any food to try to settle it, I reach for my glass of orange juice and take a small sip.
Ihatethe vampire rebels in Muncie.
Everytime I hear about them, it reminds me of Roman’s noble sacrifice and how it turned out to be in vain. He allowed Christian to behead him because he believed his death would bring peace between the two different vampire factions in Muncie: those who supported Roman as leader, and those who wanted things to go back to how they were when the cruel dictator, Marcel Claret was the head vampire in Muncie.
Marcel is long dead. Now Roman is, too. If his sacrifice meant anything, the rebels should’ve stopped their infighting. But then Aleks became the new leader, and the peace lasted a couple of weeks at most before they started testing Aleks.
They’re the reason why I barely see my vampire as much these days. In fact, I wouldn’t put it past those bloodsuckers being the reason behind the emergency that’s kept Aleks away since early this morning.
Tamera’s gaze flickers my way. “Gretch, maybe this isn’t what we should be discussing over brunch.”
“Why not? It’s true. At least last night they only drew a little blood.” Tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder, Gretchen snorts. “Not much of an assination attempt, if you ask me, but they should know better than to test Aleksander. That’s one vamp who, if you want him dead, you better not miss. And yet they insist on trying.”
What?
I blink.
“I’m sorry. What was that?”
“Oh, come on, Elizabeth. Don’t play coy with me. I know I’m not Cadre, but I hear things.” Right. From her mates. “Everyone’s talking about how three rebels jumped Aleksander when he was leaving the Cadre building yesterday evening.” She sniffs. “They used silver knives. Who does that? If you’re gonna go for a vamp like our fair leader, at least use a sword.”
Tamera gives me an apologetic grimace. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. Gretch is right. Aleks barely got a scratch before he turned the blade on the rebels. He was fine.”
I know he was. I ran my teeth across his throat after that attack and there wasn’t a scratch.
Does knowing that help me right now? Not even a little.
My whole life, I’ve never had the best poker face. Sometimes, when Tarot wasn’t bringing in enough money for me to survive on my own as a lone wolf, I got myself involved in other get-rich-quick opportunities. Playing poker against unsuspecting humans was one of them. With my wolf picking up a spiking heartbeat, or sweat eking out of their pores when they were suddenly nervous, I definitely had the advantage. Pity I couldn’t bluff worth a damn, and all the supernatural instincts in the world can’t help when you’re dealt a crap hand and don’t know how to fake it.
Maybe if I’d stuck with it and taught myself to become a better liar instead of throwing everything I had into reading my tarot cards, then I could’ve stopped myself from how I reacted to Gretchen’s casual reveal and Tamera’s hurried way to cover up for her beloved. But I hadn’t, and I didn’t, and I was so shocked by what she said that my fingers flexed, the glass pulverizing beneath my shifter strength, orange juice spilling out all over the table.
And off of it. Though it hadn’t been my intention, the orange juice follows the path of gravity, flooding directly into Gretchen’s lap.
The blonde vampire shrieks, jumping up from her seat. So does Tamera, reaching instantly for a wad of napkins to shove at Gretchen. Leigh stays seated for a moment, her eyes going from pale amber to deep red in a heartbeat as she gasps an unnecessary breath. Her gaze zeroes in on my shaky hand.
Oh. I’m bleeding. I wiggle my hand a few times, knocking away as many of the glass shards as possible, then close my fingers into a loose fist to hide the sight. It’s not so bad; I’ll be healed in a few minutes. Probably better that I don’t flaunt fleshly spilled blood in front of a table of vampires, no matter who they are.
Leigh exhales. The red fades away, her irises returning to their normal pale color. Tossing her braids over her shoulder, she leans toward me.
That’s when I realize that she’s staring at my eyes.
It’s not something I do consciously. When my emotions flare up and get the better of me—like, oh, maybe hearing that my lover was nearly assassinated multiple times and I had no idea—my Luna-given silver irises turn inky black.
The Luna goes quiet, my ability to sense and snap bonds disappear with her, but my eyes still do their freaky thing. Because why not?
It’s bad enough that I’m the only shifter who lives among the vamps in the Fang City. Letting my friends know just how different I am than other she-wolves? Lovely. Just freaking lovely.
“Elizabeth,” Leigh says softly. “Are you alright?”
No. No, I am not.
Aleks didn’t tell me. He came home last night, bringing me my favorite sandwich for a snack, then immediately seduced me into bed. I did manage to ask him about his day, and all he said was that it was the same as the day before.
Right. Because, according to Gretchen, that wasn’t the first time the rebel vamps tried to kill him—and I had no idea.
