out to eat again?” Ransom asked with a smirk as he joined us at the foot of the platform. “Can’t blame him. The feeders get a little territorial when he’s involved. It’s like we’re back in the good ‘ol harem days.” He gave a wistful sigh.
“You weren’t alive in the harem days, jackass. None of us were. And don’t encourage him.” Lachlan shook his head and grumbled something about useless nobles as he looked down the tables.
There were half a dozen aristocrats in the hall now, all from the finest families, and they’d all chosen seats at the farthest end from the dais. This court was respected, admired, even emulated…but overall, it was feared.
We were feared.
I liked it that way.
I had no use for the simpering class of nobles who cared more about their proximity to the throne than they did for fighting to keep our species at the top of the immortal food chain. While all vampires were dangerous, those who served in the Order were the most lethal of our kind. We were bigger than average nobility, faster, stronger, and trained to carry out our duty by the covenant—mete out the king’s justice.
My justice.
We were called the Onyx Assassins, not only for the onyx medallion each of us carried from the day we were initiated, but the death delivered by our hands.
“How long are these festivities, anyway?” Lachlan’s gaze moved from one noble to the next, assessing any potential threat as another one of my warriors joined us.
Benedict stood at my left and crossed his arms over his chest.
“At least a week, and half the nobility aren’t even here yet,” Ransom answered, clearly enjoying Lachlan’s discomfort. “Has Lenora already cornered you? Rumor has it she’s looking to get her oldest daughter mated.”
“Fuck that.” Lachlan flinched.
“He’s not lying,” Benedict added with a touch of a smile. A quick glance at the unchanged, black tattoos on his arms confirmed Ransom’s honesty. Whenever someone lied around Benedict, the words appeared on his skin. Most vampires outside our circle kept their mouths shut around him for that exact reason.
Ransom laughed, drawing the attention of the newest nobles, all female, of course. Just because they feared us didn’t mean they didn’t like to fuck us.
“One day, your mouth is going to get you into trouble, lad,” Lachlan muttered.
“Doubt that.” Ransom shrugged, his silver screen smile only widening. He was definitely the prettiest of my council…and as my master of combat, he was also the deadliest.
“Where’s Hawke?” I asked, noticing the warrior hadn’t made an appearance.
“Waiting for us in the bat cave,” Ransom answered. “He knows he scares even the purebloods.”
We all turned to stare at the combat master.
“What?” He asked with a shrug.
“Stop calling it the bat cave,” Lachlan ordered.
A muscle in my jaw ticked as the room filled with more and more nobles. Jeweled wives, mate-seeking mothers, conniving males, ambitious sons, and star-eyed daughters all looked to us—to me. I had no problem leading them. I just didn’t want to socialize with them.
“What am I supposed to call it?” Ransom argued.
“Council Chambers?” Benedict offered.
“Come on, it’s pretty much a bat cave,” Ransom argued. “And I don’t see Alek arguing.”
I cocked a brow but kept my thoughts to myself. In twenty-four hours, I’d be responsible for one more noble under this roof—one that wouldn’t leave at the end of the week’s festivities. One I loved more than my throne.
“You honestly think our king should weigh in on whether or not you get to call the sacred chamber where our council meets the bat cave?” Lachlan growled.
Benedict muttered a curse under his breath, then leaned in slightly. “Cassandra Zorin, two o’clock.”
My gaze shifted between the third and fourth tables on the right, and sure enough, Cassandra Zorin was breaking from her family to head this way. As purebloods went, she was strikingly beautiful, with long, black hair, high cheekbones, dark eyes, and a lithe figure. She was the logical choice to make, were I to finally choose a queen.
I just didn’t want her.
“Fuck,” Lachlan mumbled as she came closer.
“My king,” she said, whisper-soft, dropping into a curtsy before me with feigned submissiveness. The female would no doubt eat her future young if it meant getting the seat beside me, though the look in her eyes as she glanced over my leather jacket, black t-shirt, and pants said she’d rather eat me.
“Good evening, Cassandra,” I said in greeting, forcing my manners to the surface. “The hall looks nice. Thank you for seeing to the decorations.”