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I stand perfectly still and breathe as silently as Treyton opens the door. There isnochance that it won't be a vampire. They rarely invite guests into their den, and even if they were entertaining some other faction's leader, there would be no reason for them to come here to this abandoned room. The whole reason Treyton and I meet in this room is because it's all but abandoned. Or it was supposed to be.
I try not to blink, or swallow, or think about how death by exsanguination would feel as a new voice enters the room along with the click of the door.
"What is that smell? Is there a witch in here?"
"Hello, Arman," Treyton says in a level tone that is surprisingly calm. So calm that it's practicallyeerie.
Of course the intruder has to be the clan leader, whose senses are keen enough to sense me through the thick layer of a curtain. Panic creeps up my backbone, because even though Treyton and I have a "diplomatic" and mutually beneficial relationship, and he may even have wanted to kiss me mere moments ago in the desire-charged darkness, he is still a vampire, and Arman is his leader. It's like two wolves and one sheep. They're still predators, and I'm still their prey.
Instead of sinking deeper into my fear, I go back to scolding myself in my head.It was such a stupid idea to come here and flirt with danger. What was I thinking?
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