Thrall of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 4) by Bella Klaus (namjoon book recommendations txt) 📗

illuminating leather seats that curved around its interior. A bottle of champagne stood within a bucket of ice surrounded by four flutes. My throat dried as I remembered Kresnik’s reason for celebrating. I wasn’t looking forward to spending time with the man in an enclosed space, let alone hearing him brag about his expanding army of preternaturals.

As soon as Valentine and I settled into the butter-soft seats, the guards shut the door, and the driver pulled out of the driveway.

Relief escaped my lungs in a long breath. “He’s meeting us there?”

“Aurora and a few others are conducting a ritual tonight.” Valentine’s hand slid over my exposed thigh, sending a ripple of pleasure into my core.

The limo continued to the end of the driveway, where I clenched my teeth at the pinpricks of magic from the wards as it joined a road that cut through Hampstead Heath.

I bit down on my lip, trying to ignore the mingled sensations of discomfort and pain. “More magic transfers?”

Valentine’s hand continued up my leg. “They’re going to slip through into the realm of the gods.”

My breath caught. “Really? I didn’t know such a thing was possible.”

He nodded. “Nothing is beyond the capabilities of Our Lord.”

Irritation burned through my insides, and I clamped my legs together. How many times would I have to endure Valentine—a noble being who never bowed to anyone in his life—refer to that parasite with respect? Kresnik was like the old wizard who hid behind the curtain in that movie. Worse, because he combined being a charlatan with being a murderer.

I pressed a kiss on Valentine’s jaw. “Tell me more.”

“You’ll have to ask your father at dinner,” Valentine replied with a chuckle. “I’m sure he’ll be delighted with your interest in his work.”

Suspicious, more like. I leaned back into my seat and crossed my legs.

Fifteen minutes later, the limousine slowed past Belsize Park station and into a high street of Georgian buildings with their downstairs converted into quaint little bars, restaurants, and the occasional international chain. At the end of the block stood a building that looked like it had once been a movie theater with GOURMANDE emblazoned in glowing letters.

The vehicle stopped level with a red carpet that stretched from the curb to the establishment’s closed front doors.

“What is this place?” I asked. “A restaurant?”

“London’s most infamous burlesque club,” Valentine replied.

I turned to him and smiled, my mind conjuring images of the Moulin Rouge movie, starring Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman. Macavity had particularly enjoyed the Spectacular Spectacular scene, making me replay it four times. I was about to tell Valentine, when the driver opened the door, letting in a blast of cold air and sparkly magic.

“Faeries.” I grabbed Valentine’s hand.

He curled his fingers around mine and guided us out of the limousine and onto the red carpet. “Yes, it’s fae-run.”

The limousine door slammed shut, and the driver returned to the front. As he pulled out into the high street, I raised myself onto my tiptoes and whispered into Valentine’s ear, “We’re both under death sentences and about to step into a place run by supernaturals. Don’t you think it’s strange that Kresnik invited us here?”

Valentine raised my hand to his lips and placed a kiss on my knuckles.

I stared up at him, my mouth gaping open. “That’s your answer?”

“Trust in Our Lord.” He continued over the red carpet and pressed a hand to the wooden door.

Light pulsed under his palm, and it clicked open to engulf us with more of that sparkling faerie magic. A red-carpeted reception area stretched out before us, manned by ogre and human-faerie bodyguards dressed in burgundy uniforms with silver trim. Sparkles covered the walls, looking like compressed starlight.

My steps faltered. Did Valentine just open up a portal into Elphame?

A young man with blond hair pushed his way through the guards and swept into a low bow. “Bonsoir, Madame et Monsieur, welcome to Gourmande,” he said in an exaggerated French accent. “I am Karsten, your host.”

As he rose, our eyes locked, and recognition flickered across his features. I clenched my teeth. Karsten was a common enough name among supernaturals, but I hadn’t expected to meet someone I knew from the academy. Karsten had been one of the sycophants who orbited Ellora Vandamir, who’d laughed the loudest at her barbs, a faerie hybrid who came from a troop that fed off the misery of women.

I held my breath. He had to know about my death sentence and the bounty on my head. My fingers curled around Valentine’s and gave him a warning squeeze, but Valentine carried on as though we weren't walking into a trap.

Karsten’s face twisted into a smirk, presumably because he’d heard all about my humiliating departure from Logris. “Mera Griff—”

At Valentine’s snarl, Karsten’s features paled, and he smoothed his expression into a neutral mask.

“Your Majesty.” Karsten’s voice trembled. “Table for two?”

“Four,” Valentine replied.

Dread rumbled through my stomach in time with the drumroll of my heart. I waited for Karsten to turn toward the door at the end of the reception area before leaning into Valentine and saying, “What if someone calls the enforcers?”

“You’re forgetting that the Mage and Demon Kings told everyone I was no longer preternatural.” With a smile, Valentine placed his hand on the small of my back, ushering me to follow our host.

“But I’m a fugitive,” I said, feeling queasy.

Valentine shook his head, as though he would handle the enforcers and bounty hunters hunting my hide. If I said anything else, he’d probably remind me to trust his bloody lord again.

My lips formed a tight line, and I walked alongside Valentine, trying not to think about the time he had spent under the control of the corrupt monarchs. “Lazarus told me you announced a lockdown and a bunch of taxes for the vampires. Is that still in place?”

Valentine tilted his head to the side. “When Our Lord takes control of Logris, such trivial matters will no longer be of consequence.”

The door opened, and Karsten led us through the back of a