Bonds of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 7) by Bella Klaus (romantic books to read TXT) 📗

top of the stairs and strolled along the chandelier-lit hallway toward Valentine’s bedroom.

Caiman swept his hand toward a white door. “This is a shortcut to your dressing room, already enchanted so that only you and the lady’s maid of your choice may enter.”

I met his smiling eyes. “Valentine set that up while I was away?”

“His Majesty never lost hope that he would find you. We were overjoyed that the duration of your parting didn’t exceed a month.”

A long breath escaped my lungs. An entire month away from Valentine was a month too long, but it was better than years of being separated.

I placed my hand on the door, which glowed upon contact with my palm and clicked with the release of its locking mechanism. The dressing room was the size of my Grosvenor Square studio, its ivory walls decorated with gold cornices and a matching chandelier. Two floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the place with light, bringing out the shine in the gilded furniture upholstered in gold.

My feet sank into a deep-pile rug that was salmon pink, decorated with swirls of gold. I turned in a circle, marveling at the antique furniture. There was a golden dressing table with a stool of green velvet, a day bed, two chairs, and even a harp.

An eight-foot-tall gold mirror stood at the room’s far right, and a set of embroidered green screens on its far left. I headed toward them, guessing that they concealed the clothes. As soon as my hand brushed against one of the verdant panels, it swung open to reveal a walk-in closet, also lit by a chandelier.

I leaned the trident against a wall and shook my head from side to side. “This is…”

Too fancy, too expensive, too much? The words died in my throat. I wasn’t just going to be the consort of a Vampire King—I was a powerful supernatural in my own right, mingling with the highest echelons in Logris and beyond. There was a reason why Valentine without a soul nucleus had a stick up his ass. The politics and scheming of supernaturals knew no bounds.

I hurried down a wall of closets toward a drawer, looking for an outfit similar to the one I’d just burned. In the end, I found a deep green pair of pants and a tank top that contrasted with my vibrant red hair.

After dressing, I met Caiman outside in the hallway, and we walked around to the other side of the suite to Kain’s bedroom.

Caiman knocked before entering a large modern space of white bookshelves that reminded me of the attic in the Notting Hill safe house.

A tall vampire wearing the black uniform of an academy instructor stood on the room’s far left in front of a whiteboard marked up with Latin verbs.

Kain sat alone at a desk large enough for two with his head resting on his chin. In the empty space was one of those Apple computers that consisted entirely of a monitor.

“Mr. Caiman?” asked the tall man.

“My apologies, Professor, but Master Kain is required for urgent business.”

I glanced at the other side of the room, where a leather sofa sat in front of a large-screen TV with a game console and a bunch of music equipment. A camera and tripod took up the far corner, and a few feet away was a four-tiered cat tree, complete with a hammock and dangly toys. I would have thought it was unoccupied if not for the curling tail at the top swinging from side to side.

Kain rose off his seat. “Mera?” He glanced over my shoulder. “Where’s Valentine?”

“In prison.” I pursed my lips, suppressing a wave of annoyance. “We just chased away Prince Draconius from the front doors, but he’ll return soon enough with help from whoever’s trying to take down Valentine.”

“Shit,” he hissed. “I hope you have a plan?”

I folded my arms across my chest and gave him my most ferocious glare. “I’m kidnapping you.”

He grinned down at me, his aquamarine eyes sparkling with excitement. “Awesome. Do I have time to take my jacket?”

Caiman appeared at his side, holding an overnight bag. “I took the liberty of packing a few items.”

The man at the blackboard whizzed around the room, returning with a backpack. “I have also taken the liberty of packing your homework. You have my email in case you need assistance with your studies.”

Kain’s grin drooped around the edges, and he hung his shoulders a few inches lower. I guessed with Valentine back in the picture, he had resumed his studies. After loading him up with his supplies, we continued toward the waiting room where we’d left Beowulf.

The Shifter King had already made himself comfortable on a leather armchair, with his boots on the table beside a half-open bottle of Rémy Martin.

Kain nudged me in the side and mouthed ‘Who’s that?’

‘King Beowulf,’ I mouthed back. ‘Shifter King.’

“My Lady?” Caiman said as he closed the waiting room door. “This is a rather delicate question, but how do the three of you intend to transport Master Kain with a motorcycle?”

I bit down on my lip. “Maybe King Beowulf can borrow a car?”

The Shifter King shook his head. “I won’t be parted from my Vincent.”

“Okay…” I glanced around the room full of leather chairs and settled my gaze on an antique atlas, trying not to think about what it meant for a man to love his motorbike enough to give it a name. “How about we take the mirror to your hideout, and you meet us there?”

“Fine,” the Shifter King said with a shrug.

Caiman cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, Master Kain’s power levels will not withstand the upheaval of mirror magic.”

Beowulf smirked, his gaze drifting down Kain’s body. “Fangs haven’t dropped yet, boy?”

Kain stiffened. “My balls have, which is more than I can say about yours.”

The Shifter King rose off his seat and bared his teeth in a snarl. His sideburns thickened, and the tops of his ears lengthened to a point.

I bristled, remembering why I found many shifters so annoying. The constant attempts to