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“Arrogant ass.” Dagon grumbled.
Talon flat-out laughed.
Ransom’s forehead puckered as we turned the corner into the glitzy ballroom, his hand on the small of Olivia’s back. “I don’t get your meaning.”
“Put him out of his misery, Ajax,” Zachariah ordered, a slight smirk curving his mouth, all of us walking down the center aisle between the perfectly spaced trestle tables full of stumbling aristocrats, hurrying to stand as we passed by.
“We take the rear because we’re more experienced in combat and better capable of protecting the king’s back,” I answered, my grin only growing at the indignation in the combat-master’s face.
“That’s…” Ransom’s mouth dropped.
“True,” Zachariah supplied. “True was the word you were looking for.”
“Close your mouth, dear.” Olivia reached up and gently closed her mate’s mouth for him. “We’re in public.”
Talon laughed harder, and we climbed the few steps of the dais, taking the closest seats as the other vampires—and Valor—filed down the long table.
“It never bothers you that Zachariah doesn’t sit at the king’s right?” Dagon asked in a low whisper from my left as we pulled our chairs closer to the table like the spectacles we were.
“If it doesn’t bother Zachariah, it doesn’t bother me,” I answered, keeping my voice equally quiet.
Zachariah shot us a look from the other side of Talon that said he heard what was being said. He’d perfected that look over centuries of leading our peculiar family, and it usually meant we were in for a lecture later.
“You know what bothers me?” I said as the talem began serving our plates and filling goblets with the canned shit none of us preferred. The scent of it hit my nose and my stomach twisted with nausea. “Feeling like I’m in a zoo.” Every aristocrat tended to look at us with a healthy mix of respect and fear, and an annoying fascination that gave us almost no privacy.
“Amen,” Dagon responded, holding his hand over his own goblet when the talem reached over his shoulder. “No, thank you.” The talem moved on and Dagon flicked his wrist, lifting a precise stream of water from the pitcher in front of Zachariah and arching it to his own goblet. He didn’t spill a drop. Fuck, was his control incredible.
“I hate when you do that,” Zachariah lectured, leaning forward slightly. “Just ask me to pass the damned water.”
“My way is faster.” Dagon shrugged.
I looked out over the sea of nobles to see them staring at Dagon with wide eyes. The room was almost full now, which meant there werea lotof them. At least Alek didn’t keep an overly formal court. People came and went as they pleased within the room.
“Plus, we may as well put on a show for the patrons.” His smile was frighteningly fake as he took a drink.
“Just once,” Zachariah muttered. “I’d like to get through a repast just once without feeling like you guys are going to throw the tables over—”
“Like that one time—” Talon started, his eyes dancing.
“In Constantinople,” Saint finished.
“Istanbul,” I corrected him.
“Right.” He nodded. “Istanbul.” He glared at the blood goblet like it had personally done something to offend him. “Remember the days when the humans came to the table?”
Dagon grunted with a smile. “Good days.”
“So convenient, too,” Talon added. “And I’m never against a curvy ass in my lap while I—”
“Just once,” Zachariah interrupted, shaking his head. “Ajax,” he ordered in a tone I knew all too well.
Every hunter heard the cue and set their hands on the table.
My power flexed, and I threw it into a spherical bubble, stopping time for everyone in the ballroom except those of us at the end of the table.
Zachariah glanced at the room before turning his disapproving glare on Talon. “You cannot sit at the king’s table in the middle of court and loudly reminisce about some feeder’s ass in your lap hundreds of years ago.”
“King Tarak never minded,” Talon retorted. “In fact, I remember more than a few humans in his lap.”
