Cassian walks ahead several paces, not bothering to wait for me. I watch him silently from a distance. His pants cling to his long, strong legs, and his chest is covered by a black shirt with the top buttons undone. He doesn’t need a coat—few things in this world are colder than he is. Meanwhile, I’m burdened not only with a cumbersome dress but also a white cloak lined with wool.
I catch up just as he reaches the doors. He glances sideways at me.
“You know the rules. Do whatever you want, but your blood is mine.”
He disappears into the crowd, but his presence is unmistakable. I watch him longer than I should—and I wish I hadn’t looked away, because the rest of the attendees are not dressed like him. I see vampires sitting on small thrones with naked women squirming in their laps, blood
