Envy had his game, and Camilla had hers now. She vowed to pour her energy into plotting her own escape and would not think of the prince again.
They had no true future. Engaging in a dark flirtation was not the same as falling in love.
Camilla wouldn’t confuse any game with reality.
With each step she took deeper into the vampire court, she released herself from thoughts of Envy, or anyone else, for that matter. Camilla was her own hero and would plot her way out of this.
She and Blade strolled along a darkened corridor, the floors the same gleaming black as the throne room, the walls papered in a deep burgundy brocade.
Tapestries hung every few feet, giving the corridor a bit of texture and color. Even being in the heart of enemy territory, she couldn’t help but admire the art they passed, until she saw the scenes that had been captured.
Bloodbaths, literally. Every which way a vampire might dine on a human, shape-shifter, or Fae was immortalized in the morbid art.
Camilla’s heart pounded a wild beat.
Blade slowly glanced in her direction, his attention fixed on the pulse point in her neck.
Another couple emerged from the opposite end of the corridor, making her heart race faster.
Blade had her up against the wall, his body blocking the other vampire’s, his eyes burning crimson. He brought his lethal mouth to her ear.
She snapped, bucking against him.
He clamped down on her, using his weight to pin her.
“Calm the fuck down now.”
Tension coiled inside her, ready to lash out.
Blade shook her until her teeth rattled.
“I’m trying.” She focused on her breathing. In, then out.
“Try harder.” He gripped her waist painfully. “Your pulse is like a beacon. You’ll attract every forsaken vampire on this isle if you don’t relax.”
Steps approached them, louder, closer, driving Camilla’s heart rate up.
Blade cursed, his hand shooting down her leg to the exposed skin. His icy fingers shocked her into stillness.
“Pretend, lamb. Pretend you’re enthralled. Or this will turn ugly.”
Camilla froze, her body tense, as the sound of the other couple drew nearer.
Blade’s cold fingers traveled higher, then pinched her, drawing her attention to his cruel face. Anger replaced her fear. Which, from his slight look of relief, was exactly what the vampire had been trying to do.
“Prick,” she murmured, earning a wider grin.
His icy fingers only roamed higher, drawing her ire.
There was no passion in his crimson gaze, only a warning.
His hand traveled up until he grabbed her bottom, the move meant to indicate possession.
“She smells divine.” The female’s voice was throaty, sensual. “Share her or take her to a private chamber, Blade.”
Camilla dared a glance over Blade’s shoulder, and any residual fear melted away at once. She wasn’t looking at the female, she was staring at the male beside her.
The human.
“Lord Vexley?”
He gave her a haughty look.
“Miss Antonius.”
He acted as if they were at another boring party in Waverly Green, not thrust deep into the bowels of the vampire court.
“What are you doing here?”
“Don’t be so surprised by my otherworldly connections, darling,” he sneered. “Did you think I only held power in Waverly Green?”
Camilla didn’t think he held much power there, either, except, of course, through blackmailing her.
The female vampire stroked his chest, purring as he puffed it up more. The fool was going to entice her to bite him right then and there.
Vexley looked Camilla over disdainfully, his cool blue gaze raking over every inch of skin he could see past Blade. His attention fell to the slit of her gown, narrowing on where Blade’s hand moved beneath the silk.
Camilla gritted her teeth, hoping she hid her snarl. The damned vampire was stroking her bottom, his smirk daring her to ruin their show.
“When you tire of the vampire,” Vexley said at last, “come find me. There’s a chance I may forgive your transgressions. Especially now that you’re so… uninhibited.”
Camilla was going to murder him. She tried to shove her way around Blade, but he was as immovable as a mountain range.
Blade jerked his head in a quick approximation of a no.
Camilla glared at him, wondering when they’d formed this uneasy alliance.
“Let’s join them for dinner, my love.” The female vampire’s hands were now caressing Vexley in places Camilla never wished to witness. “It promises to be fun.”
Vexley grabbed a fistful of her silky black hair, guiding her to her knees.
“Convince me, lover.”
Blade shoved off the wall and escorted Camilla quickly toward the dining chamber, leaving Vexley and his vampire to their games.
Once they rounded the corner, Camilla paused.
“Is she going to kill him?”
Blade shook his head.
“He’s been granted asylum.”
“Why?”
“When the Unseelie King submits a request, it’s wise to accept it. Even Zarus recognizes that.”
Camilla’s blood chilled.
“Vexley is playing the game.”
“Appears so.”
“Do you know what’s at stake?”
Blade slanted a look her way.
“Don’t know, don’t care to know. It’s nothing good if the Unseelie are involved.”
Blade stopped outside a wide set of double doors, carved with more scenes of death. They were an off-white like bones bleached in the sun. Camilla realized with a start that they were bones bleached by the sun. Human bones. Hundreds of them.
Looking at them closely, she saw places where they’d been gnawed, the teeth marks unmistakably created by fangs.
She stepped back, a surge of fear urging her to run the other way.
“Don’t run.”
Blade’s tone implied he’d chase her and that would be ill-advised. He was a predator first, the need to hunt in his blood.
His large hand gripped her arm, a cold manacle tethering her to his side.
“Try not to speak to Zarus or draw his attention. We’ll sit as far away as is acceptable. At the first opportunity, we’ll leave.” He looked her over, his expression harsh. “If you cannot control yourself, I will bite you. Understand?”
Camilla inhaled deeply, then nodded. If she lost control around the vampire prince again, she wanted Blade to bite her. Hopefully it would bring her body back under her control.
With his free hand, Blade pushed the doors open, revealing a dining room that was more bordello than banquet hall.
Sultry immediately sprang to mind. The chamber was a study of deep, rich colors, the favored ones being deep purple and black. Dark, decadent, and tempting; the sort of room that invited you to come in, lie back, and indulge each of your senses.
Floor-to-ceiling windows opened onto a wide terrace overlooking the sea, the warm, salty breeze snaking lazily through the chamber.
A long dining table was divided by a deep plum runner straight down its center.
Glasses filled with various dark purple and red liquids—wine and blood and God only knew what else—were placed at each setting, while trays of purple fruit sat untouched in the center. Plums and grapes and figs and fruits she had no names for glistened in the soft candlelight.