much sweeter as a result.
I remained quiet while the vampires at the table complained about the lack of food in this region. Dom commented on the diversity issue, stating most of the humans were O-positive and he longed for a good A-negative.
Willow shivered at the mention of her blood type. I attempted to soothe her by shifting my touch to her tense neck, my fingers gently massaging the muscles.
The pointed conversation shifted to my pet, Dom’s pupils dilating at the scent of her delectable blood. I almost dared him to ask for a taste. They were walking a thin rope as it was, treating me as an equal and not their better. It would provide me with the perfect opportunity to put him—and everyone else—in his place.
However, the female with the piercings returned before he could comment. A muscular male with similar metal ornaments accompanied her, his purpose immediately evident as he removed the dead human from the table. He didn’t flinch or whisper a quick prayer. He just hefted the corpse over his shoulder and disappeared through a pair of swinging doors that led to what I assumed was the kitchen.
I noticed several other tables being cleared in a similar fashion, all by mortal males like the one who’d just serviced our area.
The female servant quickly took our soiled tablecloth and replaced it with another one, her movements agitated. Janet fondled her openly, tugging on the piercings and laughing when the girl squeaked. Tandem slapped the slave on the ass, telling her to behave.
Willow began to vibrate beneath my palm, her escalating pulse drawing my attention to her. But just as I was about to pull her up and into my lap, the muscular male returned with seven naked humans trailing behind him.
My eyebrows lifted at the parade, mostly because of the varying ages among them. The youngest couldn’t have been more than ten years old.
“May I present our menu,” the male said, his tone flat and void of emotion. His presentation reminded me of a maître d’ informing me of tonight’s wine selection as he went through each option, providing me with the slave’s blood type and age.
I was wrong—the youngest was eleven. And the oldest was just nineteen.
Everyone fell quiet as they waited for me to make my decision. “Will you be distributing the rest to the other tables?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Yes, My Prince,” the male servant replied without looking at me.
“And this is the practice in most restaurants?” I pressed, this time glancing at Damien.
“Yes,” my oldest friend confirmed. “In fine-dining restaurants, at least.”
“I see.” I made a mental note to ask him later about quick dining and what that entailed. “Well.” I pretended to peruse the menu, not at all interested in the offerings.
“My Prince.” The soft feminine voice came from the servant who had replaced our tablecloth. “We also have a menu of organs prepared, if you prefer to order off the list.”
“Organs?” I repeated.
“Yes,” Janet interjected, staring at the girl. “Fresh heart was a favorite of Silvano’s. He perfected the art of extraction at the table. Perhaps you’d like to give it a try?”
The female servant trembled visibly, causing Janet to growl at the show of a reaction. But I suddenly realized what the poor girl was offering me. Her organs.
Fuck. Damien had never mentioned this practice to me, something I accused him of with a glance. His gaze was on the girl, a note of irritation in his depths. That little tell informed me that he didn’t actually know and he was just as repulsed by the idea as I was.
“Who’s in charge of this dining hall?” I tried to phrase it as a polite question, but it left my mouth as a demand, and it truly silenced the room. Even the humans stopped breathing.
“That would be me, Your Prince.”
I had to rotate in my chair to find the one who spoke, placing my knee beside Willow’s head.
A svelte female stood, her spine erect despite the clear nervous energy pouring off her.
“And you are?” I didn’t recognize her, and she struck me as quite young.
“Meghan,” she replied.
“Meghan,” I repeated, arching a brow at her. “Your menu includes organs and children?” I phrased it as a question because I needed an explanation. Preferably a good one.
“Y-yes, Your Highness,” she stammered, clearing her throat. “They were Silvano’s preferred cuisine, so our restaurant is well stocked with those items.”
I clenched my teeth, my blood heating with fury. Willow flinched against me, reminding me that