Alaric's POV
Elara's blood-red lips twisted into a hunter's grin. "I think I'll enjoy tonight's entertainment too."
My chest squeezed tight. I'd prayed the vampires would pass on Draven's twisted specialty, but guests never said no to what he called his finest delicacy. With a lazy wave from Draven, three women stepped out of the darkness instead of the usual one.
Two draped themselves over Elara and Marcel, melting against their elaborate chairs. The vampires didn't waste time burying their ghostly faces in the women's necks, breathing them in like wolves scenting blood.
The third woman had fire-bright hair flowing in gentle waves around features so perfect they looked heaven-carved. My world spun sideways as recognition hit me like a sledgehammer. Zinnia. My precious Zinnia, who I thought was safe upstairs in Elara's rooms, taking care of her mistress.
