Sucking in a deep breath, she glanced up to the second floor. The red room, as she called it in the past, was where all decisions took place. Blood demons would enter unassigned and leave as either a donor, or set to be paired for the next ceremony.
She drifted up the stairs and listened to the sounds happening around her. From the potential concubines to footsteps nearby on the upper level, she stared into the distance before her, not necessarily seeing anything other than the crimson carpet under her feet.
Having made her way to the second floor, she almost dragged her feet to her destination: the waiting receptionist.
The woman was young, maybe mid-twenties, blonde, and wore a tight fitted dress as red as the lipstick she’d painted on her lips. The woman shifted her gaze to Alexia and her blue orbs took in the sight of her. The woman’s eyes roamed down Alexia’s body then back up again, as if sizing her up.
She wanted to roll her eyes, but instead, she smiled. “Hi, I’m Alexia Daucourt. I have an appointment with—”
The woman held up a perfectly manicured hand, then her index finger of the same, and gave her an insincere smile. “S’il vous plaît, attendez.”
Alexia understood the French word for please, but not attendez.
Maybe it meant hold on or something?
She just nodded and took a step back. There were no chairs to sit in.
I guess visitors aren’t a thing too often here.
“Madame,” the woman called. “Vous pouvez entrer.”
She blinked and parted her lips. “Umm, parles-vous anglais?”
The woman offered a sneer of a smile and stood. “Yes. We all speak English here. Although, I suppose it’s too much to ask for foreigners to learn our language. Follow me.”
“Excuse me?” Alexia asked, completely caught off guard by the rudeness of the receptionist. She hurried her steps to catch up to the woman and shook her head in disbelief.
“Oui?” She turned on her heel back to face Alexia and placed her hands on her hips.
Alexia huffed and lifted a brow. “Do you talk to everybody that way? You’re setting a bad example for The Covenant acting like such a... well?”
“A bitch?” the woman finished for her.
“Yes, actually. You’re rude as hell and it wasn’t deserved.”
“Whatever,” the woman said with a wave of her hand. “It’s not like I’ll see you again after today, anyway.”
“Well, I suppose not, but it doesn’t give you the excuse to be rude as fuck.”
The woman side-glanced her and smirked. “I like you.” She knocked once on a door and circled back to Alexia. “Good luck.”
She wasn’t sure what to make of her comment of ‘liking’ her, but she shrugged it off. The door opened and on the other side was... Pierre DuBois.
Her eyes widened upon seeing him and she backstepped. “Hi... I wasn’t... umm...”
The edges of his mouth turned up into a sly grin. He stepped aside and held his arm open for her to enter the room. “We’ve been expecting you, Madame Daucourt.”
Heat rushed along her neck to her ears and cheeks. He held her gaze with his for a moment, then she ambled past him. The room had the same red carpet and the walls were cream in color with paintings of different men—well, vampires—throughout their history.
The leader of the Americas hung next to the others, the name Malik Ibrahim on the inscription. On either side of his portrait were two other men with Dash Santana and Bishop Adams on the titles.
She looked back at Pierre again and couldn’t help smiling. He was a beautiful man. Tall, thick shoulders and arms, broad chest, chiseled jawline, and the darkest of brown eyes she’d ever looked into. So much so, it was hard to decipher the pupil from the iris. A light growth of beard playfully covered his cheeks, chin, and upper lip.
He made his way over to his desk and slid into his seat. He then held his arm out, offering a seat for Alexia.
She pulled her dress against her thighs and sat down, then crossed one leg over the other.
“You received the notice?” he asked.
The notice. If he meant the letter delivered that her contract had been canceled, then yes. She nodded. “I thank you for that as well.”
“It wasn’t my decision alone to make.”
Her brows rose. “Oh?”
“There are four of us, Madame Daucourt. Four decisions to be made and we must be in agreement.”
Concern plagued her on where this discussion was headed. The contract was terminated, that much she knew, but what was Pierre driving at with this conversation?
“Did someone not agree to let me out of the arrangement?” The question left her before she had to chance to consider what the answer could be.
Too late now.
“There was some disagreement, that much I’ll say,” he answered in a more direct tone.
She offered a slow nod, then let go a long breath.
“Any thoughts to what you’d like to do now?” he asked.
She met and held his gaze. When he lifted his brow, there was a flicker of dominance behind them. That intrigued her, but this wasn’t the time or place, and Pierre must have someone he considered a love interest.
He was one of the four rulers, breathtakingly good looking, and from the few conversations they’d had, he seemed kind. But looks could be deceiving as the devil was once an angel.
Was he the devil in disguise?
One would hope to find out.
She needed to answer his question.
What did she want to do now?
Did she want to become a donor and live her life freely, or become another concubine and chance another stab at love and a life given to her by her vampire?
It would be safer to take the former. She would be in control of her destiny, her life, and how she lived it.
But was that really what she wanted?
Maybe in time, she could consider the life of a concubine again, but for now, remaining cautious seemed much safer.
“Yes, I’ve come to a decision. I wish to become a concubine again.”
He lifted his brows in surprise.
As did she.
What the fuck just happened?
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he told her as his lips twitched at a hint of a grin. He stood from his desk and started moving around it toward her. He held out his hand for her to take.
She hesitated for a moment.
Was that really what she wanted?
After convincing herself it would be better to be a donor. Apparently, something in her mind thought otherwise.
Alexia slipped her hand into his. His touch was soft and slightly calloused. His grip tightened around hers and he helped her to her feet.
“Then, we’ll see you at the choosing ceremony.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. Not that it mattered if he did. They were alone in his office; however, vampires had a keen sense of hearing. Even as a whisper, they could hear one another. And if the concubine had been paired and fed from, they could sense her emotions on a deeper level.
She’d never experienced that with Aubin, but why would she?
He never allowed her to feed from him. Not that she would if given the opportunity.
“I do have to say how brave you are to put your best foot forward to put yourself back out there.”
A not so humorous laugh that came out more like a cackle left her lips. “I guess we’ll see how the events turn out.”