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

Coral’s stare burned the side of my face. I turned to meet the warning in her eyes, and her lips tightened as though telling me not to react. I offered her a slight nod. It was too late to save these new preternaturals, but maybe if I could resurrect Hades and then Valentine, they might work together to stop Kresnik.

“Leman,” said Kresnik. “Try not to distract Roman from his mission.”

Racon rose from the other end of our table and hurried across the room. He picked up the living twin and brought him back to his seat. I couldn’t see Leman’s face, but the trembling of his shoulders told me he was crying.

My chest tightened with grief, and a sour taste spread across my tongue. It didn’t matter how they dressed up the facts. Roman was dead.

Kresnik turned to address his audience. “We must all make sacrifices in the pursuit of freedom. Unfortunately, this means breaking up family and friendship groups, but I can assure you that the twins will get to play with each other after Roman has performed his mission.”

Chuckles spread across the refectory and a few of the women made cooing sounds, as though it was cute that the twins were having a squabble because one became an elite while the other got to stay behind.

Tremors shook through my insides, a simmering fury that threatened to break free. I bit down hard on my lip, trying to keep it all inside. Was I the only one in the room apart from Valentine and Coral who knew that these elites were dead? A soothing voice whispered in my ear. I couldn’t tell if Hades was trying to make me calm or if it was my common sense reminding me that I could achieve nothing with an outburst.

The merriment faded, and I rested my chin against my clenched fist. These people were brainwashed, and none of them could see the truth until it directly affected their lives. Years of indoctrination and fear of the Supernatural Council had made them trust in the guidance of the only being who had sheltered their kind.

“General Sargon, lead your new recruits to victory.” Kresnik saluted Valentine, who returned the gesture.

As the preternatural army marched out of the dining room to more applause, my heart sank. How long would Valentine and I be apart this time?

Instead of following after the other preternaturals, Valentine walked in our direction. I stiffened, wondering what he would say in front of everyone in the refectory.

Valentine raised his hand and curled his fingers, beckoning for me to meet him. Without thinking about it, I pushed myself off the seat and walked to him on shaking legs. As the applause died down, everyone’s attention turned away from the retreating preternaturals toward Valentine. He strode past the tables with the grace of a predator, and my pulse boomed between my ears. What on earth was he planning?

By the time we met, silence stretched across the room, and curiosity hung across the refectory like a cloud. Nobody moved, nobody so much as shuffled their feet. Not Kresnik, not Valentine, and not even the people standing behind us by the serving hatch.

He pulled down the hood of my cloak, cupped the side of my face, and met my gaze with indigo eyes as dark as the midnight sky.

“You belong to me,” he said in a deep voice that resonated through my bones to the marrow.

“Yes,” I said, my voice breathy.

Valentine’s lips crashed onto mine, and his arm curled around my back, pulling us close. His tongue delved between my lips, tasting, stroking, devouring me until I clutched at his arms with a whimper in the back of my throat.

Sparks of excitement burst from our joined flesh and raced toward my tightening nipples and to my pulsing core. I loved kissing Valentine at the best of times, but why now and why in front of all these people?

My mind was so addled by the sight of the preternatural army that I couldn’t tell if he was trying to reassure me of his love or warning others that I was his property. As his arms tightened around me and his hardness pressed into my belly, one thing became certain for sure.

This was not a kiss goodbye. It was a promise that he would return.

With a moan, I relaxed into his embrace and kissed back. Valentine tasted of smoke and spices, of raspberries and mint, and he felt like being intoxicated on sweet summer wine. My head spun, and my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

Wolf-whistles filled the air. A few of the men sitting around the tables cat-called. The old Mera might have broken away from the kiss, terrified of making a scene, but I’d experienced too much, lost too much, suffered way too much to be picky about something as trivial as privacy.

Just when I thought my mind would take flight like a bird, Valentine drew back from my mouth and trailed kisses along my jaw, nipping, teasing, sucking until my skin felt like it had been set on fire. Heat rushed to my core, making me squeeze my thighs together. I clung to his broad shoulders, wanting more, and moaned as his fangs pierced my neck.

An orgasm tore through my insides, making my lips part in a silent scream. I don’t know how long he continued to drink my blood because the violent spasms of my climax seized every ounce of my attention. This was the first time he had fed from me since I’d made the blood oath, and somehow, Valentine had gotten me to believe that his bite was more important than my life.

He pulled back, staring at me through crimson eyes and with a grin of blood-stained fangs. My pulse pounded loud enough to drown out the sounds of the spectators, but right then, I didn’t care what anyone thought. I only wanted another bite. Failing that, to lose myself in those dark, mesmerizing eyes.

As he