Lucian:
The chandeliers bleed crimson light across the Grand Hall, every facet reflecting the glowing red light. I stand on the dais, words of the opening toast spilling from my mouth like smoke, but I am already hunting.
Then I see her.
Isadora moves through the dancers like a secret. Black lace clings to her pale throat; the candlelight gilds her in something that isn’t mortal. And beside her—another man, no, another vampire. Too close. His hand resting at the curve of her spine as though he has a right.
A low crack splits my chest. The orchestra swells, but all I hear is the hammer of my pulse. Instinct blots out thought.
I descend the steps before the first note fades, the crowd rippling aside as if some ancient memory tells them to fear.
He twirls her once. I catch her wrist mid
