Blood Ties Bundle: Blood Ties Book One: The Turning / Blood Ties Book Two: Possession / Blood Ties Book Three: Ashes to Ashes / Blood Ties Book Four: All Souls' Night. Jennifer Armintrout
in love with Cyrus?”
“I didn’t know he was a vampire. Not before.” She pressed her palm to her forehead as tears slid down her face. “He told me he loved me.”
I tied the robe and hurried from the bed over to her. I didn’t know what else I could do but stand beside her and offer a shoulder to cry on in her misery. “He probably did—does—love you.”
She sniffled. “He was fascinated with me, with my power. And now I’m trapped here.”
“He’s afraid of you,” I blurted. Her face was the picture of hopelessness, and it broke my heart. As much as I disliked Dahlia, I sympathized with her. “He’s afraid of your power. That’s why he won’t turn you.”
“I know,” she snapped. “But that doesn’t help me, does it.”
“It could. There are going to be a hundred vampires here tomorrow night. If you could find just one of them to turn you, you could get away from Cyrus.” The thought of Dahlia with unlimited power smacked me in the cerebral cortex about a half a second too late. But the words were already out there and I couldn’t take them back.
To my relief, she shook her head and her old venom returned. “Right. Because it’s so easy to just get a vampire to make a fledgling.”
I couldn’t help my sarcastic reply. “It was for me.”
In an instant, her hand left a stinging impression on my cheek. Her eyes flashing with rage, she whirled around and waved at the air as though she were batting away a fly. The door flew back, practically tearing off the hinges, and she stalked into the dark anteroom.
Trembling, I pulled Cyrus’s robe tighter around me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d either just performed an incredible act of mercy or made a huge mistake.
Saturday night arrived with a flurry of flamboyantly gay party planners and confused teenagers who thought they’d been invited to a rave. The former were led quietly around the side of the mansion to set up a garden party in nearly freezing temperatures, and the latter were lured into the house with promises of alcohol and social drugs. Ziggy and I stood on the balcony in the foyer and watched as guards herded a group of the hapless victims toward the cellar.
“So I’m basically toast, is that what you’re telling me?” Ziggy wore a neatly pressed dress shirt and slacks, a stylish black tie draped around his neck. Even with the change in wardrobe, he looked antisocial and slightly intimidating. But not to those who knew him well. I could practically see the word fear written across his forehead.
I hoped he didn’t share my keen insight. I wouldn’t seem so reassuring if he could tell my insides shook like barren branches in the winter wind. “You’re not toast. I get to pick who the Soul Eater takes. Cyrus will turn Dahlia, and then he’ll throw you to the crowd. It’s all very simple.”
“Right.” Ziggy stretched the word out. “Thrown on the mercy of hungry vampires. And yet I’m somehow missing the part where I’m not toast.”
“You know how to fight, and Nathan will get here in time. Don’t worry about it. I’m not.” I was, but there was no point letting him know that.
“What about the secret service down there?” Ziggy pointed toward the guards below. “Nate and those guys can’t touch them. They’re human.”
“Then they’ll be easier to subdue,” I pointed out. “Besides, there aren’t many of them here tonight.” It was a protective measure, Clarence had told me before he’d left for the guardhouse earlier in the evening. Fewer humans meant less chance of a feeding frenzy. Most of the guards had been dismissed already. The mansion now ran with a skeleton crew on hazard pay.
It seemed a little strange that Cyrus would leave the party so vulnerable. Of course, there was the Soul Eater’s own security team. They were apparently scary enough that Cyrus felt comfortable entrusting them to guard a house full of Movement exiles on the most notorious night of the year.
Again, another fact Ziggy didn’t need to worry about. “Now, get back to the room before somebody mistakes you for cattle.”
His eyes were fixed on the herd in the foyer. “You’d think someone would miss these kids.”
“I guess he moves the party around every year. He said he can’t stay in one place for long without people getting suspicious.” Then the sadness in Ziggy’s words made me realize he wasn’t referring to the teenagers below us. “Nathan does miss you. He loves you.”
“Yeah, well. I guess we’ll find out tonight, huh?” With a grimace, he shoved off the banister and headed toward the hallway.
I wanted to follow him, to go into my room, lock the door and sleep wherever I fell. I’d spent the day with a pillow over my head, trying to drown out the sound of Cyrus cursing and shouting in his room as he agonized over every new development, from parking to table decorations, until I was as stressed about the party as he was.
If he thought things were going badly now, I couldn’t wait to see how he reacted when his uninvited guests showed up.
There was no telling how events would turn out. In just a few hours I could be safely away from this house and all the temptation inside. Or I could be dead. Ziggy could be dead. Cyrus could be dead. Hell, we could all be dead at the same time from some freak accident. I wasn’t ruling anything out.
To get my mind off such grim meditations, and because guests had begun to arrive, I went to my room to dress in the new gown Cyrus had bought me for the occasion. When Clarence had delivered the garment, all my bad feelings about the night had multiplied. It was a floor-length, red-and-black ball gown with thin shoulder straps and a tiered tulle skirt. I’d quickly zipped up the garment bag and assured myself it wasn’t so bad.
I was wrong. In fact, it was much worse on second observation.
“I’m going to look like a ballerina from hell,” I whined out loud as I picked at the sequined bodice.
Not to mention the fact that running—hell, even standing—in the shoes he’d bought to match would be impossible, at best.
I pulled the offending footwear from the box with a frown. I slipped the patent leather pointe slippers onto my feet and wrapped the deep red ribbons around my calves. They would have been comfortable if it weren’t for the tall spiked heel that ensured I stood on perfect tiptoe.
I teetered into the sitting room where Ziggy stood like a real gentleman, an expression of pure disbelief on his face. “You look really good.”
“Thanks.” I touched my hair self-consciously, checking to make sure the long, blond strands remained in the French braid I’d put them in. “I feel like a clown.”
“You look like a Goth boy’s wet dream. Hell, I’d go straight if you made an offer right now.”
For a moment, his wicked smile reminded me so much of Nathan it seemed impossible they weren’t blood related. “I’ll take that as a compliment. And I’ll pass.”
There was a soft knock at the door. I called out permission to enter, expecting Clarence.
One of the guards opened the door instead. “The Master wants you in the foyer, so you can greet his father.”
I wiped my suddenly sweaty palms on my skirt. “The Soul Eater is here?”
“Master Seymour is in transit,” the man corrected me in a warning tone.
“Fine,” I replied with an equally stony glare. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
The door closed, but I knew the guard waited outside. I motioned Ziggy closer. “When they bring you down for the party, stay close to me, because—”
“Because I’m your life insurance policy. I know, I know.” He blew out a long breath. “You’re not going to change your mind at the last minute and let them eat me,