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Another pounding sound echoed from the hallway, jolting me from my spiraling thoughts of destructive dark magick and blood-hungry vampires intent on tearing my family apart.
“Open the door, witch, or I’ll tear the door down myself!” a young female’s voice rang from the other side.
Like a bucket of ice water dropped over me, I jostled out of my reverie.
Was this Alexei’s betrothed come to kill me for daring to touch her intended?
I measured the distance between the bed and the bathroom and took the risk. My feet slapped against the cold marble before instantly heating on the bathroom tiles just as the bedroom door swung open.
“Coward,” the voice called out.
Before I could slam the bathroom door shut, she was upon me. The small blur of dark hair and petite limbs halted my retreat with wide, plum-red eyes narrowed with disapproval.
“Thisis the witch who has spelled my brother into losing all his good sense and intelligence?” She sniffed, looking me up and down. “Somehow, I thought you would be taller. Or blonde. That’s his usual type, at least.”
“Brother?” I gasped.
My heart stopped at the realization that this was Mira—Alexei’s younger sister.
The petite vampire female continued circling me. With her inky hair falling in luscious curls down to her tapered waist, accentuated by her slinky dress the same shade as her eyes, I felt a moment of self-consciousness at what was no doubt a bird’s nest of tangled hair and tear-stained cheeks.
Leaning closer to sniff my hair, her nose wrinkled at the fragrance of the battle on the beach and Trystan’s blood and gore. “You’re in desperate need of a bath. Since I’m a gracious host, I will allow you exactly five minutes of privacy before you’re mine again. Chop, chop,” she clapped, turning the bath faucets and sending steamy, hissing water into the room.
My mouth popped open in shock that quickly soured. “Sorry ifmyappearance is causingyoudistress.”
“So, the witch has some teeth.” She let out a full-bodied chuckle that lit up her warm complexion. “That’s good. My brother deserves a fierce mate, equal to him in strength and power.”
“Mate?” I gaped, remembering Trystan’s words from Liliane’s, but Mira had already moved on to her next mission: finding me suitable clothes. I crossed my arms, still reeling. “Why do you want to dress me up and parade me around your castle? Is this some sort of torture technique to make me feel safe and comfortable, only for the rug to be ripped out from under me? Am I being led to some grotesque display of vampiric violence?”
She snorted, sending tendrils of hair away from her face. “Dramatic little witchling, aren’t you? Did you want to tour the castle with me or my father? The choice is yours.”
Mira’s hands wound together innocently in front of her dress.
“Witchling? I’m nearly as old as you!”?
“Perhaps physically, yes,” she mused, with pursed lips and gleaming eyes. “But in experience and beauty, I surmount you.”?
I rolled my eyes, not entirely sure if I was prepared to deal with Alexei’s female counterpart without sustenance. But Ididlong to explore the eerily haunting castle and the picturesque grounds, and I would rather die than spend another moment in Alistair’s presence.
“Fine,” I gritted out, dropping my filthy clothes onto the marble floor the second Mira disappeared.
By the time she returned, she dropped clean clothes onto the vanity next to me before darting out of the bathroom with a curt, “You’re down to three minutes.”
It was too much to hope for a simple pair of jeans and a sweater.
Seething, I donned the jet-black dress made from a material with glimmers of silver and red that stood out against my fair skin. The material was buttery and cinched at my waist so that I appeared as if I had been sewed into it. A stunning yet completely impractical outfit to stealthily spy on the vampire royalty, as Mira probably intended.
She eyed me speculatively as I reentered Alexei’s bedroom and nodded once in approval. “You’ll do. Now, come along. Sunrise is in a few hours, and I desire my beauty sleep to remain undisturbed.”
We wandered down the hallway, with her motioning to each door as we passed with brief explanations. I had little interest in the over-embellished guest rooms, but I found myself drawn to the elaborate paintings lining the walls. They burst with bright, complex colors, obviously created by a skilled artist, but they lacked any familial warmth or soul.
In one portrait, Alexei’s face resembled granite, a perfect mirror of his father’s stern glare. None of his charm or humor gleamed through his hard stare, and it made me shiver uncomfortably at the ruthless creature his father had tried to mold him into.
Mira caught me staring and lifted her shoulder. “Not very candid, I know. We come from a long line of vampires, none of which were particularly fun.”
She pointed to another painting that depicted the aftermath of a battle, blood and gore splattered along a green field with a younger Alistair posed next to an unsmiling vampire brute that must be his father.
“My father, along with the rest of our descendants, once warred with the creatures that resided in Bled. Ironic, certainly,” she laughed at the unfortunate name. “Which is why I’m so surprised to see you here.”
