Chapter 43: 43
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"Brother," Soren says curtly, eyes shimmering a dangerous gold, verging on a fiery orange beneath a black wolf mask. The hairs on the back of my neck rise at the sheer authority of his words. Soren's voice is an icy cold.
"You always were a sly little weasel, and now you insist on dancing with a girl I so keenly remembering asking to be my partner. Why don't you just scurry on back down into your little hole of sex and debauchery, or do I have to put you there myself?"
"I didn't do anything, if you were wondering, so no need for any neck snapping from you today," Azrael smiles, but his voice is flat, eyes completely lifeless. A look is shared between the two brothers as a signal passes undetected between them, rippling silently through the air- a death threat? A question? I glance quickly between them. Soren's eyebrows raise.
Again I feel that cold finger prodding at the back of my mind, inquisitive, searching, testing as Azrael's gaze settles back on me, drilling into me. I can feel his power grasping for my thoughts, memories, that I retreat further back into my head, away from the prying claws and those dead, lifeless eyes. Silent panic creeps up my back, a light sweat forming on my skin. The necklace pulses with an icy chill around my neck and then suddenly the claw stops its advance, lingers for a moment, then retreats back out of my consciousness.
For a moment, my breathing stops. Carefully, from the corner of my eye, I glance Azrael up and down. He doesn't look shaken, and yet there is an air of despite around him, some unvoiced annoyance that he will neither admit, nor acknowledge.
Could my necklace warding against his magic?
There is no way to count on it, I remind myself sternly, and settle my eyes once again of Soren's powerful gaze, protective and fiery, smouldering with anger. I breathe a small, shaky sigh. If my necklace can't be counted on, I need wards. I need wards against Azrael. And strong ones.
I make a mental note to cast through my books tomorrow morning to see if there is anything about psyche tractatori vampires.
Soren's hand gripping tighter on my waist disrupts my thoughts. His body is rigid against me, and if he wasn't the Scarlet Prince I might have put it down to worry, yet I find myself sinking into the phantom warmth of his shoulder anyway, letting myself slide into the faint smell of roses and freshly ironed clothes.
"Oh I have no doubt if any neck snapping was needed, Serena would do just as good a job as me," Soren states simply, his voice lowered to a deadly whisper, just quiet enough that I can still hear.
A little beam of pride runs through me. I cannot tell from the blank look on his face whether or not he knew of his brother's attempts to infiltrate my mind, or whether he even really cares. But there is something in the way he says those words- the validation that I am just as capable as him- that makes me glow a little too brightly.
Azrael's eyes flicker between us, obscured by the thick white strands of his hair that dance in an invisible wind and the music of the distant sounding orchestra. I can almost see the cogs turning in his brain, the workings of something, some cruel scheme, turning in his mind. And then he smiles, a horrible, gleaming smile of cruel white fangs and leans down to press his mouth to my ear.
"Don't for one second think you have a chance with my brother, that you wont end up dead by the end of this, there is no chance in hell my brother would never form a mating link with the likes of you, so keep dreaming, elven whore," And then just like that, he is gone, whisked up amongst the shadows and pirouetting figures. Soren's grip loosens on my waist.
"Thank the devil that he's gone, I was about to-"
I don't hear the rest of the sentence. The room, the music, the laughter, the voices, all merge into one chaotic, muffled cacophony of sounds. My ears ring, the sound of the words chiming in my head like a bell that tolls for death.
Mating link.
It is in that moment that I notice Soren has gone quiet beside me too. The Scarlet Prince moves in front of me, shielding my view of the room and those cold, cold creatures that eye me like I am their next meal and their worst enemy all at once. Soren bends down, bringing my face close to his.
"What did he say to you," he asks rigidly, his words hitting my like shards of ice, burying into my flesh.
"What did he say to you," he repeats, a little more forcefully this time, eyes flaring red, shadows flaring from the tips of his fingers, wisping off his clothes and bouncing off his skin- not quite contained, but not free of his control either.
I shake my head, my lip trembling a little. There is a strange look on his face, one familiar, and one I have never seen before. Anger, the seething, burning anger of a vampire Prince, and the other… His hands are shaking as he grips my arm.
"Please, Serena," his voice cracks and my heart pangs with a sudden guilt. Slowly, I shake my head, but this time I answer.
"'My brother would never form a mating link with the likes of you'," I repeat, my voice catching on the last syllable as I whisper: "'Elven whore.'" Soren throws back his head and hisses, his nails biting into my flesh, lips peeled back into an angry, wolf-like snarl. I wince.
This time the shadows around him do not stick merely to his flesh, they extend out past his body like claws, dousing the marble floor, the dark expanse of the ceiling and even the floating lanterns in a layer of thick, impenetrable blackness.
The room hushes, movement stops, and even the music slows to a teetering halt, as if afraid one more note would send Soren hurtling over the edge. Soren seems to grow impossibly bigger against the void as he turns to face the crowd who- wisely, have taken to standing a few meters back from him, and even the stark red eyes of the vampires are swimming with worry, and with fear.
His voice booms out across the room.
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"Brother," Soren says curtly, eyes shimmering a dangerous gold, verging on a fiery orange beneath a black wolf mask. The hairs on the back of my neck rise at the sheer authority of his words. Soren's voice is an icy cold.
"You always were a sly little weasel, and now you insist on dancing with a girl I so keenly remembering asking to be my partner. Why don't you just scurry on back down into your little hole of sex and debauchery, or do I have to put you there myself?"
"I didn't do anything, if you were wondering, so no need for any neck snapping from you today," Azrael smiles, but his voice is flat, eyes completely lifeless. A look is shared between the two brothers as a signal passes undetected between them, rippling silently through the air- a death threat? A question? I glance quickly between them. Soren's eyebrows raise.
Again I feel that cold finger prodding at the back of my mind, inquisitive, searching, testing as Azrael's gaze settles back on me, drilling into me. I can feel his power grasping for my thoughts, memories, that I retreat further back into my head, away from the prying claws and those dead, lifeless eyes. Silent panic creeps up my back, a light sweat forming on my skin. The necklace pulses with an icy chill around my neck and then suddenly the claw stops its advance, lingers for a moment, then retreats back out of my consciousness.
For a moment, my breathing stops. Carefully, from the corner of my eye, I glance Azrael up and down. He doesn't look shaken, and yet there is an air of despite around him, some unvoiced annoyance that he will neither admit, nor acknowledge.
Could my necklace warding against his magic?
There is no way to count on it, I remind myself sternly, and settle my eyes once again of Soren's powerful gaze, protective and fiery, smouldering with anger. I breathe a small, shaky sigh. If my necklace can't be counted on, I need wards. I need wards against Azrael. And strong ones.
I make a mental note to cast through my books tomorrow morning to see if there is anything about psyche tractatori vampires.
Soren's hand gripping tighter on my waist disrupts my thoughts. His body is rigid against me, and if he wasn't the Scarlet Prince I might have put it down to worry, yet I find myself sinking into the phantom warmth of his shoulder anyway, letting myself slide into the faint smell of roses and freshly ironed clothes.
"Oh I have no doubt if any neck snapping was needed, Serena would do just as good a job as me," Soren states simply, his voice lowered to a deadly whisper, just quiet enough that I can still hear.
A little beam of pride runs through me. I cannot tell from the blank look on his face whether or not he knew of his brother's attempts to infiltrate my mind, or whether he even really cares. But there is something in the way he says those words- the validation that I am just as capable as him- that makes me glow a little too brightly.
Azrael's eyes flicker between us, obscured by the thick white strands of his hair that dance in an invisible wind and the music of the distant sounding orchestra. I can almost see the cogs turning in his brain, the workings of something, some cruel scheme, turning in his mind. And then he smiles, a horrible, gleaming smile of cruel white fangs and leans down to press his mouth to my ear.
"Don't for one second think you have a chance with my brother, that you wont end up dead by the end of this, there is no chance in hell my brother would never form a mating link with the likes of you, so keep dreaming, elven whore," And then just like that, he is gone, whisked up amongst the shadows and pirouetting figures. Soren's grip loosens on my waist.
"Thank the devil that he's gone, I was about to-"
I don't hear the rest of the sentence. The room, the music, the laughter, the voices, all merge into one chaotic, muffled cacophony of sounds. My ears ring, the sound of the words chiming in my head like a bell that tolls for death.
Mating link.
It is in that moment that I notice Soren has gone quiet beside me too. The Scarlet Prince moves in front of me, shielding my view of the room and those cold, cold creatures that eye me like I am their next meal and their worst enemy all at once. Soren bends down, bringing my face close to his.
"What did he say to you," he asks rigidly, his words hitting my like shards of ice, burying into my flesh.
"What did he say to you," he repeats, a little more forcefully this time, eyes flaring red, shadows flaring from the tips of his fingers, wisping off his clothes and bouncing off his skin- not quite contained, but not free of his control either.
I shake my head, my lip trembling a little. There is a strange look on his face, one familiar, and one I have never seen before. Anger, the seething, burning anger of a vampire Prince, and the other… His hands are shaking as he grips my arm.
"Please, Serena," his voice cracks and my heart pangs with a sudden guilt. Slowly, I shake my head, but this time I answer.
"'My brother would never form a mating link with the likes of you'," I repeat, my voice catching on the last syllable as I whisper: "'Elven whore.'" Soren throws back his head and hisses, his nails biting into my flesh, lips peeled back into an angry, wolf-like snarl. I wince.
This time the shadows around him do not stick merely to his flesh, they extend out past his body like claws, dousing the marble floor, the dark expanse of the ceiling and even the floating lanterns in a layer of thick, impenetrable blackness.
The room hushes, movement stops, and even the music slows to a teetering halt, as if afraid one more note would send Soren hurtling over the edge. Soren seems to grow impossibly bigger against the void as he turns to face the crowd who- wisely, have taken to standing a few meters back from him, and even the stark red eyes of the vampires are swimming with worry, and with fear.
His voice booms out across the room.
"Brother," Soren says curtly, eyes shimmering a dangerous gold, verging on a fiery orange beneath a black wolf mask. The hairs on the back of my neck rise at the sheer authority of his words. Soren's voice is an icy cold."You always were a sly little weasel, and now you insist on dancing with a girl I so keenly remembering asking to be my partner. Why don't you just scurry on back down into your little hole of sex and debauchery, or do I have to put you there myself?""I didn't do anything, if you were wondering, so no need for any neck snapping from you today," Azrael smiles, but his voice is flat, eyes completely lifeless. A look is shared between the two brothers as a signal passes undetected between them, rippling silently through the air- a death threat? A question? I glance quickly between them. Soren's eyebrows raise.Again I feel that cold finger prodding at the back of my mind, inquisitive, searching, testing as Azrael's gaze settles back on me, drilling into me. I can feel his power grasping for my thoughts, memories, that I retreat further back into my head, away from the prying claws and those dead, lifeless eyes. Silent panic creeps up my back, a light sweat forming on my skin. The necklace pulses with an icy chill around my neck and then suddenly the claw stops its advance, lingers for a moment, then retreats back out of my consciousness.For a moment, my breathing stops. Carefully, from the corner of my eye, I glance Azrael up and down. He doesn't look shaken, and yet there is an air of despite around him, some unvoiced annoyance that he will neither admit, nor acknowledge.Could my necklace warding against his magic?There is no way to count on it, I remind myself sternly, and settle my eyes once again of Soren's powerful gaze, protective and fiery, smouldering with anger. I breathe a small, shaky sigh. If my necklace can't be counted on, I need wards. I need wards against Azrael. And strong ones.I make a mental note to cast through my books tomorrow morning to see if there is anything about psyche tractatori vampires.Soren's hand gripping tighter on my waist disrupts my thoughts. His body is rigid against me, and if he wasn't the Scarlet Prince I might have put it down to worry, yet I find myself sinking into the phantom warmth of his shoulder anyway, letting myself slide into the faint smell of roses and freshly ironed clothes."Oh I have no doubt if any neck snapping was needed, Serena would do just as good a job as me," Soren states simply, his voice lowered to a deadly whisper, just quiet enough that I can still hear.A little beam of pride runs through me. I cannot tell from the blank look on his face whether or not he knew of his brother's attempts to infiltrate my mind, or whether he even really cares. But there is something in the way he says those words- the validation that I am just as capable as him- that makes me glow a little too brightly.Azrael's eyes flicker between us, obscured by the thick white strands of his hair that dance in an invisible wind and the music of the distant sounding orchestra. I can almost see the cogs turning in his brain, the workings of something, some cruel scheme, turning in his mind. And then he smiles, a horrible, gleaming smile of cruel white fangs and leans down to press his mouth to my ear."Don't for one second think you have a chance with my brother, that you wont end up dead by the end of this, there is no chance in hell my brother would never form a mating link with the likes of you, so keep dreaming, elven whore," And then just like that, he is gone, whisked up amongst the shadows and pirouetting figures. Soren's grip loosens on my waist. "Thank the devil that he's gone, I was about to-"I don't hear the rest of the sentence. The room, the music, the laughter, the voices, all merge into one chaotic, muffled cacophony of sounds. My ears ring, the sound of the words chiming in my head like a bell that tolls for death.Mating link.It is in that moment that I notice Soren has gone quiet beside me too. The Scarlet Prince moves in front of me, shielding my view of the room and those cold, cold creatures that eye me like I am their next meal and their worst enemy all at once. Soren bends down, bringing my face close to his."What did he say to you," he asks rigidly, his words hitting my like shards of ice, burying into my flesh."What did he say to you," he repeats, a little more forcefully this time, eyes flaring red, shadows flaring from the tips of his fingers, wisping off his clothes and bouncing off his skin- not quite contained, but not free of his control either.I shake my head, my lip trembling a little. There is a strange look on his face, one familiar, and one I have never seen before. Anger, the seething, burning anger of a vampire Prince, and the other His hands are shaking as he grips my arm."Please, Serena," his voice cracks and my heart pangs with a sudden guilt. Slowly, I shake my head, but this time I answer."'My brother would never form a mating link with the likes of you'," I repeat, my voice catching on the last syllable as I whisper: "'Elven whore.'" Soren throws back his head and hisses, his nails biting into my flesh, lips peeled back into an angry, wolf-like snarl. I wince.This time the shadows around him do not stick merely to his flesh, they extend out past his body like claws, dousing the marble floor, the dark expanse of the ceiling and even the floating lanterns in a layer of thick, impenetrable blackness.The room hushes, movement stops, and even the music slows to a teetering halt, as if afraid one more note would send Soren hurtling over the edge. Soren seems to grow impossibly bigger against the void as he turns to face the crowd who- wisely, have taken to standing a few meters back from him, and even the stark red eyes of the vampires are swimming with worry, and with fear.His voice booms out across the room.
