Lord of the Night

Chapter 15: The Duchess

The door to the Revival swung open, and a swirling gust enveloped the High Prince. When the smoke cleared, he stood with two fingers holding the door open, eyeing me with a slight frown. The skin between his brows creased, and his eyes drilled into me. I recognized the warning in his gaze.

If I didn't follow his commands of my own will, he would force me.

But he didn't look happy about it. Funny, he had once seemed to relish touching me. Then again, he had once seemed to be many things that he was not.

I dipped my head and strode toward him. He ducked through the door, shoving it open behind him so he could watch me enter behind him.

When I passed through, the harsh smoke and sting of zaikut assailed me. I cleared my throat and blinked away the haze. Ahead of me, the High Prince appeared even more affected. He staggered one step back and coughed into his sleeve. Perhaps he hadn't been faking his reaction to zaikut.

Then I berated myself. It was ridiculous, my need to know if anything I'd seen from him had been real. After all, I had already witnessed one undeniable truth.

This monster murdered my family.

And if I got the chance, I would murder him.

Another step into the room, and the music rattled my eardrums and vibrated through the floor beneath my feet. Swiveling neon lights colored the smoke and highlighted the smoke.

It was almost beautiful—if not for its inhabitants. Zaikut splashed mugs, vomit speckled tables, and hacking laughter grated my ears. A few strange beasts hovered around the Demons they served, much like pets. Demons sharpened their teeth with butcher blades, wrestled each other in vicious matches, and shredded apart a wooden statue of the First Guardian.

Even more disturbing, a host of human slaves served their Demon masters by carrying items, handing them drinks, and even dropping to their knees to perform acts I had never seen in public.

The High Prince weaved in and out of groups before me, stepping quietly and quickly. I was vaguely aware of eyes following me as I walked, and of sharp noses turning up to sniff the air. However, I was too absorbed by the horror around me to pay much attention.

Until a Demon lunged for me.

Just in time, I jerked out of her reach. Before she got another chance, the High Prince stepped between us.

"He's mine," he growled. "Unless you'd like to challenge me?"

The attacker gasped and fumbled to her knees. "High Prince! I am so sorry. I didn't realize it was you—I didn't even know you had returned!"

Her reaction was loud enough to command attention. A reaction rippled across the crowd: hushed murmurs, swiveling heads, and then cheers. Like dominos, Demons dropped what they were doing to tuck their chins to their chests, and humans dropped down to press their foreheads against the sticky floor.

Once again, I was the only one in the room who did not move—and once again, all eyes turned to me. All except the back of the club, where a smoke-filled room continued partying obliviously.

The Demon Prince exhaled through his nose, and his eyes lifted to the ceiling. When he finally turned toward me, I braced myself for a punishment or perhaps a repeat of his belittling announcement from earlier. "I don't need obedience from him. I just need his lifeforce."

Instead, he spoke so quietly I could barely hear him even with my Guardian senses and the silence around the rest of the room. "You're making this difficult."

Fury slithered in my gut and crawled up to strangle my throat. I was making this difficult? By not bowing to the man who murdered my family?

He knew nothing of difficult.