“Since when did the leaders of The Covenant take part in the choosing ceremony?” a woman near her asked.
Alexia glanced her way and grew curious about her. The woman’s gaze traveled over the men in the room and she was going above and beyond trying to pull attention her way, from the way she smiled and let out subtle giggles, to pushing her breasts forward in her dress.
Rolling her eyes, Alexia gasped when a vampire stood before her.
“Comment vas-tu ce soir?”
“Umm,” she started. “Parles-vous anglais?”
His smile faltered and the man took a step back, immediately disinterested.
Well, that was easy.
A few others approached and tried to talk to her, but the moment she spoke in English, like the former, they took their leave.
Snobs.
If she continued to drive away potential suitors, there was a possibility she would end up as a donor... Concubine suicide.
She glanced over at Jane and noted the woman was in absolute delight. Three vampires surrounded her and her pairing was completed. She was happy for the woman, truly.
But what would happen if she was the only one left?
“So, I understand this is not your first time here in a ceremony?”
Gasping, Alexia whipped around and recognized the vampire next to her. It was Jean-Paul, a leader of the European coven.
She blinked and felt at a loss for words. The painting of him she’d looked upon did nothing for the man who stood in front of her. He had shoulder length sandy blond hair, sky blue eyes, a faint smattering of hair on his chin and cheeks, with slightly full lips.
He parted his mouth to say something else and she caught sight of his fangs.
“Are you well?” he asked.
She quickly nodded. “Umm, I apologize. How did you know I spoke English? Well, more important question, how did you know it’s not my first time?”
He smirked and leaned in, clearing intending his words for just her ears. “I review everything when it comes to vampires and their blood demons. You’re a precious commodity and anyone who abuses their power on someone so precious deserves to lose everything, including their freedom.”
She was once again without words. This man knew nothing about her, but in the same breath, seemed to know everything.
He chuckled and held his hand out for her. She stared at it for a moment, then met his gaze.
“My name is Jean-Paul Côté, one of the leaders of our Covenant here in Paris.” His accent was definitely French, but not strong enough to suggest he was born here. Then again, he could be hundreds of years old.
She slipped her hand into his. “Alexia Daucourt, but you already knew that. And you are correct, this isn’t my first rodeo.”
He smirked. “Indeed. We are happy to see you here tonight, Madame Daucourt.”
“Please, call me Alexia.”
He bowed his head slightly. “Alexia.” Her name sliding over his lips was alluring, captivating, and lust inducing. And he was only using her name in simple greeting.
She pressed her thighs together, doing her best to keep any sensation of heat to a minimum. Him simply talking to her, and apparently touching her hand, sent her sex into overdrive.
He lifted his brow. “Right,” he said, and released her hand. He turned to leave and she flinched, wondering if her comment about this not being her first rodeo was too much.
Fuck.
She’d lost where Jean-Paul disappeared to in the crowd and a fear of desperation quickly rose, as well as panic when someone announced they were taking a fifteen minute intermission when only a handful of the blood demons remained in the circle.
Then the crowd parted and in the center of the room stood Jean-Paul and Pierre, talking to their other two brothers-in-arms, Marcus and Stephen. All four men glanced her way, but it was nothing more than a quick look.
Her heart slowed just enough to breathe in the realization they were still here. However, the way their eyes dominated her by simply gazing her way caused a tremble to rush through her body.
She pressed her lips together and flung her gaze to the ground. She wanted to leave the room as quickly as possible and hope she could take them up on the chance for a second ceremony.
Assuming they didn’t stick her with donor duty.
Fuck.
Double fuck.
Tears burned behind her eyes and she wanted to turn and leave, and not look back. She was foolish to think she could jump back into an arrangement so quickly.
She sniffed and raised her gaze once more. The men were gone. Her bottom lip trembled and she whipped around toward the exit. A breeze blew over her and she shifted her gait to the balcony openings. She needed to escape, get some air, maybe leap off to the grounds.
No, not yet. She wouldn’t give up just yet. The sound of clinking glasses caught her attention and rather than go outside, she shifted her stance and headed directly for the bar. A few shots would settle her nerves. Then, she could figure out her next move.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
CHAPTER 4
Three.
Four.
Five shots of tequila... and nothing. She wasn’t numb. Fear had clamped down on her heart and she was having a hard time breathing. Everything began closing in around her and nausea rocked her to her core. She was going to lose anything left in her gut, including the alcohol she’d just consumed.
“Are you all right?” asked someone next to her.
Her eyes flashed wide open and she almost toppled over, tripping over her own feet.
“I’ve got you,” the woman next to her said, letting a soft chuckle escape her lips as she gripped onto Alexia’s wrists. “Easy there,” she coaxed.
“Thank you,” Alexia whispered as she righted herself. Pulling her arms free, she lowered her head slightly. “I’m usually not so clumsy.”
“I’m never one to judge over clumsiness. I can find a hole anywhere to step into when I’m just standing still.”
Alexia grinned, then realization donned on her: this woman was not from Paris. She sounded American. “Where are you from?”
“Accent give it away?”
Alexia nodded.
“I’ve been sent by The Covenant of New Orleans. My name is Olivia. I’m here as a favor to Jean-Paul, by way of Malik, our coven leader. What’s your name?”
“Alexia,” she said in a softer voice. “Are you here to watch over the proceedings?”
“Good question, but no. I’m here to offer guidance or support, whichever may be needed for newly claimed concubines. If I may ask, are you a blood demon or someone who accepted the serum?”
Alexia thought about her question for a moment, then tilted her head, a softness to her eyes. “Does it matter?”
“No, not in particular,” Olivia answered. “I just like to know who I’m dealing with when offering help or services. I’m a blood demon. My best friend is a human who took the serum and is now living her best life,” she said with a chuckle.
Folding her hands in front of her, she nodded in understanding. “I am a blood demon. This is actually my second time at the ceremony.” Saying the words made it real. At least, more than it already was or felt.
“Oh,” Olivia whispered and raised a single brow. “May I ask what made you break your contract? You can tell me it’s none of my business, but I’m always curious to know in order to help those I might meet in passing.”