“Yes.” Glitter in his eyes, a twitch of his lips. “Explain to me why you war with other vampire factions.”
“Explain to me why humans war with other humans.”
He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Most humans desire peace.”
“And yet they still have not found a way to facilitate it.”
“Nor have the vampires.”
They stood there, simply staring at each other in the silence. She was panting again, her aching shoulder rousing her fervor for the subject and perhaps making her snappier than she should have been when Aden had so calmly stated his case.
“Aden,” she said, gentling her tone. “Peace is a wonderful thing. But that’s all it is. A thing—and sometimes the wrong thing. Will you roll over in the name of peace, allowing my father to reclaim his throne, or will you fight him?”
“Fight,” he said without hesitation. “Then I will wage war until the other vampire factions are brought to heel. And if they can’t be brought to heel, they will be annihilated. Examples will be made, and peace will finally reign.”
War at any cost was classic Vlad the Impaler ideology, and not something Aden Stone had ever before supported. Yet, this was the second time in the last five minutes that Aden had sounded exactly like her father. The third time that day.
An idea rolled through her mind, frightening her. Were bits of her father somehow trapped inside him, driving him? If so, how? Aden had tangled with Victoria’s memories, not her father’s. Unless … were these her beliefs? Had they remained with him along with a few of her memories?
Vlad had always viewed humans as food and nothing more, even though he’d once been human himself, and he had taught his children to view them the same way. Power had gone to his head, she supposed. To all their heads. But more than thinking himself superior to humans, he’d thought himself superior to all races. King of Kings, Lord of Lords. Peace had been an afterthought, the road to that peace violent and gruesome.
Better others were wiped out than living and opposing every directive he gave them, Vlad had often said.
After meeting Aden and seeing what he was willing to endure for those he loved, her entire perspective had changed. Vlad shattered. Aden restored. Vlad enjoyed the downfall of others, Aden mourned it. Vlad was never satisfied. Aden found joy where he could.
She envied him for all of that. Not that she was now completely opposed to war. One day, she would have to face off with her father. One day, she would have to destroy him, for he would never allow Aden to rule. Vlad would fight until the end, and he would fight without mercy. Therefore, someone had to deliver that end, and she would rather that someone be her.
Having been inside Aden’s head, she knew just how deeply his past hacked at his joy. He’d hurt people. He’d possessed other bodies, forcing people to do what he wanted, rather than what they believed. All to protect himself or someone he cared about, true, yet the guilt had never left him.
I know the feeling. She still had no idea what she’d done to him, those last few minutes inside their cave, but the guilt was slicing at her, leaving raw, open wounds inside her.
“Distracted?”
Victoria focused on Aden. Were his lips curling into a grin? Surely not. That would mean she had amused him. “Yes. Sorry.”
“You should—” He stiffened, his ears twitching. “Someone’s coming.”
She looked up, and sure enough, two females were pounding down the stairs, black robes dancing at their ankles. Victoria wanted to ask how he’d heard them when she had not but didn’t want to admit her observational skills were inferior.
“My king,” one of the girls said when she spotted him, stopping at the second to last step. She executed a perfect curtsy, pale hair falling over one shoulder.
“My … Aden.” The other girl stopped, as well. Her curtsy was less graceful, but maybe that was because she was eyeing Aden as if he were a slice of candy and she had a sweet fang.
She wasn’t attracted to him, Victoria knew. No, the dark-haired beauty was attracted to power. Which was why she’d challenged Victoria for rights to him.
According to their laws, any vampire could challenge any other vampire for rights to a human blood-slave. Though Aden was acting king, he was still human—or had been, at the time the challenge was issued—and Draven had used the loophole to her advantage, hoping she would take over his “care” and become queen.
They had yet to fight. Soon, though. Soon. Aden had only to announce when and where.
Victoria seethed with the need to put Draven in her place—the crypt outside. There was protecting your loved ones out of duty, and then there was protecting your loved ones for fun. Draven would be given a taste of the latter.
Perhaps Victoria was still like her father, after all.
“Is today my birthday? Look who decided to stop hiding in her room,” Draven said with a pointed look at Victoria. “How courageous of you.”
“You were welcome to knock on that door at any time. And yet you didn’t. I wonder why.”
Draven flashed her fangs.
Bring it.
“Maddie. Draven.” Aden nodded to them both, inserting himself into the “conversation” and taking it over. With no other preamble, he added, “Go to my throne room and await me. I wish to speak with everyone who lives here.”
Victoria’s hands fisted at her sides. He knew the sisters’ names, yet she didn’t think he’d ever before met Maddie the Lovely. Draven the Cunning, yes. Or as Victoria suddenly wanted to call her, Draven the Soon to Die Painfully.
The vampire council had chosen the bitch—oops, was her anger showing again?—to date Aden, along with four others, one of whom had been Victoria’s sister Stephanie, hoping he would choose a wife, while at the same time pacifying mothers and fathers who wanted their daughters aligned with the royal house. Back then, Aden had claimed to desire only Victoria.
Had that changed like everything else?
“What is this meeting about?” Draven asked, batting her lashes at him.
“You will find out when everyone else does.”
While Victoria rejoiced over his abrupt answer, Draven struggled to hide her flare of anger.
When she succeeded, she propped her hip to one side and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “May I stand on your dais?”
Simpering cow.
The forcefulness—the humanness—of the thought surprised her. At least Aden seemed as unaffected by Draven’s seduction attempt as he had about everything else.
“No, you may not,” he said, then added flatly, “But you may sit on the steps next to the dais. I want you close to me.”
She threw Victoria a smug glance. “Because I’m beautiful and you can’t keep your eyes off me?”
Maddie pinched her, clearly trying to shut her up, but Draven waved her hand away. She’d always been her own number one fan.
Aden frowned. “No. The fact is, I don’t trust you, don’t like you and want to make sure I can see your hands. If you go for a weapon,