Page 48 of Just One Night
“I suppose it’s only natural Samuel would pick somewhere so political to meet,” I whisper despite there being no sign of anyone beyond us girls.
“He’s never hidden his desire for the throne,” Avianna says, anger coloring her eyes. Samuel had held her against her will too and almost forced her into a marriage before torturing her. She had as much reason as me to want to put him in the ground.
“We should fan out,” Cassandra says as we quietly enter the opera house.
On any other occasion, I’d be gawking at the beauty of this place. The red cushioned seats, the Victorian chandeliers, the crown molding framing brocade walls…but this wasn’t a fun night out with the girls to see a play.
This was war. Or what I hoped would be an end to one.
Adrenaline pulses like a drumbeat as we follow the plan—Cassandra, Avianna, Jocelyn, and Annika would hide themselves while I remained on the stage, clearly visible for whenever Samuel shows up. I’d used the number he’d given to Saint in Italy, the one Saint disregarded as useful after Ransom couldn’t trace it. The girls and I arrived at the opera house much earlier than the time I told Samuel I could sneak out to meet. He’d sounded all too eager to come and collect me.
Icy shivers drip down my spine as I climb the stage, the smell of wood polish and dust filling my nostrils. I’d felt so confident about our plan as we headed this way, but hearing Samuel’s voice, the bravado and ownership in it, made my skin crawl. Maybe we should’ve told the hunters and assassins about our plans, at least after we’d already set them into motion, but as much as I’d love to have their protection, I knew their very presence would keep Samuel away.
Samuel will be looking for signs and scents of the males. He won’t ever suspect it’s the females he needs to worry about.
And heshouldworry, because we have enough power between us to take him down. I just hope to hell he comes alone. Hope to hell I was convincing enough on the phone.
Saint will not be happy with me for this. Especially if we end up having to kill Samuel as opposed to capture him. He may never speak to me again. I’ll have to deal with that when it comes. I have to take my chance to end this. If it saves Saint, then it will all be worth it.
“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” Samuel’s voice is loud in the vast space. I flinch where I stand on the stage. He walks slowly down the center aisle of seats before climbing the stage stairs, stopping a few feet away from me.
His crisp blue suit frames his body in a too-elegant way. It’s all wrong. He looks approachable, charming even. There’s no trace of the monster I know he is. That’s what makes him sodangerous. And it’s not fair that he looks like Saint, though his hair is just a bit longer. But there’s something about his eyes I’ll never forgot, something that is so not like Saint it makes them easily distinguishable to me.
“I was certain I’d scent my brother and the other hunters, maybe even a few assassins or the king himself when I came here.” He shrugs. “But there’s none.”
Relief ripples inside me, but I do my best to cling to the too-timid mask I wear. It’s a little too easy to conjure the young woman I was when he captured and forcibly turned me. Tortured me. Those scars will mark my soul for an eternity now. It takes half a thought to hide behind their effects, to curl inward, to appear weak.
“I told you I would come alone,” I say, keeping my voice soft, almost a whisper. He preferred it when I was quiet, most of the time.
“Don’t fault the suspicion, my sweet,” he says, taking a step closer. “I’ve been betrayed enough times it’s natural to expect the worst.”
It’s all I can do to not roar at him.He’sbeen betrayed? He locked his own brother up and starved him for weeks on end. He turned on the other hunters. He’s killed innocent people. He kidnapped Avianna and me and did unspeakable things in an effort to seize royal control. All for what? Power? To be king?
“You look more refreshed than the last time we met,” he says, circling me on that stage.
“You were going to kill me the last time we met.” I dip my head under his examination.
“Oh, no, Rory. I was never going to kill you.” His eyes are full with pompous remorse, and I cringe at the nickname that marks my old self. “If Saint hadn’t wended after you on that rooftop,Iwould’ve. I promise. I would never have harmed my beloved.” He inhales deeply. “My mate.”
I swallow hard. The lies roll so easily off his tongue, it’s no wonder he had everyone fooled for so long. He presents himself as a sympathetic person, all confident tones and easy smiles.
“You didn’t know I was your mate then,” I say, tilting my head. “Did you?” I rub my hand over the mark on my neck.
“Sadly, no.” He slides his hands into his pockets. “I knew when I turned you, you were special. I’m sorry to say I didn’t realize how special.” He stares down at me, eyes dancing with ownership.
Good. Let him believe I’m his. I need him to trust me.
“I’m the one who should be sorry,” I say, curling my shoulders inward. “I didn’t realize it either. I was so confused.”
“It’s all right.” He hushes me with a smile. “We have the rest of our lives to figure it out. With your vote as the new Duchess of Somerhaul and the votes I’ve collected, I’ll take the throne as peacefully as I can. There will be some deaths, as there are in any regime change, but it will be for the greater good. You will be my queen and bear my heirs, and I’ll set right the wrongs Alek has done to our world.”
Acid creeps up my throat. He believes every word he says. He thinks he’s the solution to a problem that only exists in his mind and from his point of view.
“You must be starving,” he says, almost looking concerned. “I can smell my brother on you, but no human blood. It’s a shame they haven’t let you feed properly, but being my mate, everything would likely taste quite awful to you.”
“Not for you?” I ask.
He smirks. “It wouldn’t,” he explains. “I learned long ago, gorging on blood is the only way to take control of the thirst. Feeding has been a means to an end for me for a long time now. It’s only for sustenance and power. Not pleasure or connection.” He tilts his head. “Though, I suppose that may be different…”His eyes go a bit distant, contemplative. “With the mating bond between us.”
