SIENNA’S POV:
The smell of raw, metallic meat and burnt coffee fills the kitchen. Morning light streams through the window. Anne Marie and I arrange the platters. There are blood smoothies with streaks of white milk and pastries on gold trays. Lovette, the vampire mistress, is the only other woman here who serves with us. She manages the estate for the vamps. We are just property (omega servant girls) in a fancy house.
The Timmons-Von-Draculas are hosting a breakfast gathering for vampires and werewolves this morning. My arms feel like lead from a night of tossing and turning. The clock ticks; it feels like it is mocking me.
Lovette bursts in. Her heels click on the marble. She looks at us with narrowed eyes.
“What are you two slugs doing in here...?”
“We are almost...” I begin.
“The guests are waiting. Practically starving,” she cuts in.
She grabs the coffee and smoothies. She gives us a glare before she vanishes. I look at Anne Marie.
“Captured. Sold. Bought like property,” I say. The air smells like bleach.
Anne Marie grips a serving spoon.
“And treated like scum by that bitchy witch of a soulless prick!”
I almost chuckle. Inside, Jinx whimpers. My wolf is the only thing that makes this life bearable. She is a warm weight in my mind. They haven't taken her yet.
“Do not despair, my love,” Jinx growls. She feels like a bandage on a wound. “We are still here. We still have each other...”
“We’ll get through this, right? We have to,” I tell her. I can almost feel her phantom fur on my fingertips.
“Yes. We are strong. Remember our training. We have Gaia...”
Once, we were Blue Moon princesses. Now, we are omegas. The memory tastes like ash. Anne Marie looks at me. Her eyes are glossy.
“How did it come to this...?”
I shake my head. My skin itches with anger.
“Made to be omegas. It’s humiliating.”
It has been five months since they ripped us from silk sheets. We went from royals to rats.
“Humiliating? It’s worse! These parasites expect us to kneel while they...” Anne Marie laughs. It sounds dry. “We’re ghosts here. Blue Moon might as well be dead...”
I grab the dessert platters. I follow her into the dining hall. The chandeliers are bright, the crystals glint and the glass walls are so polished I can see my own dark circles under my eyes. My skin looks gray.
Lady Amanda Timmons-Von-Dracula smiles. Her fangs are out. The smell of blood hits the air.
“Ah, finally, our lovely omegas.” She looks at us. “You’re just in time. We were moments from eating each other...”
People laugh. Anne Marie and I curtsy.
“Thank you, Madam Amanda,” I say. “For your patience and...”
Lovette appears by the matriarch. Her lip curls.
“Late again,” she hisses, cutting in. “And so tired. I wonder why...”
She is trying to hint at the things we keep hidden. We are dreaming again. Maybe she heard us talking in the kitchen. Or maybe she spent the night listening to me cry out. She is probably annoyed that no one is tossing her salad, giving her any attention. Dream or no dream.
I glare at her. I turn to the head table. There are vampires and werewolves (dressed to the nines) in gold and jewels. They look at us with hunger and disapproval.
“Tardiness is not befitting of omegas,” Lovette says. She pours blood smoothies into crystal glasses.
She moves around the head table like a predator. The Lord and Lady don't look at her, but I feel a chill. Anne Marie and I are braver now (a far cry from the first day we were purchased).
“Thank you, Lovette, for your generous words of...!” Anne Marie starts.
“Be quiet,” Lovette snaps. Gives her a deadly stare.
“But we had a very restful...!” Anne Marie continues but her words trail off.
Lovette’s eyes narrow. She lingers near the heads of the empire.
“You’re walking a very fine line, Sienna… Anne Marie,” she says before she glides away.
The Timmons-Von-Draculas watch us with a weird warmth. It is strange for creatures who usually look through people. We bring out more trays of sweets. The vampires stare at the sugary treats. It's surprising to see they remember their human lives, even after the blood rituals.
“Is there anything else we can get for you...?” I inquire.
“No, thank you, my dears,” Lady Amanda says. “You’ve done quite enough...”
The room smells of expensive perfume and raw meat. The elite lounge and chat while they tear into the meats and sweets. It feels like a secret society banquet. Power is coiled around us.
I am near the head table. Lord Jeffrey’s phone lights up with a video call. It is Dr. Greyson. Jeffrey answers quickly.
“Patrick, hello,” he says.
My heart hammers against my ribs. I remember him in my dreams, his body against mine. My skin burns. I pretend to wipe the neighboring table and listen.
Dr. Patrick Greyson is the Superior Alpha Wolf. He owns the hive pack and made half the vampires in Wolf Springs; including Lord Jeffrey. I hear bits of their talk. Greyson has that commanding tone; and Jeffrey sounds like a dog waiting for a treat. The guests stay back because their ears are too good.
My own wolf hearing catches words: "prophecy," "rightful heirs," "final destination, secured."
My heart thumps against my ribs. Jeffrey and Lady Amanda probably hear it; but they don't look up. Jeffrey nods at the screen.
"Of course, Father," he says. His deep voice makes my teeth rattle in my skull. "You take care as well..."
The sound leaves me feeling like my skin is buzzing (the kind of sting you get from a battery). A chill crawls down my spine. Vampire affection is rare; but the bond between a maker and his son is just a fact.
The call ends. Jeffrey puts his phone in his suit pocket. He goes back to that blank face of his. The breakfast party goes back to normal; the tension leaves the room like a breath of fresh air. No one crosses Patrick. He is the oldest; the deadliest.
Anne Marie looks at me. She has the same questions. She heard the shift in the air when an alpha speaks to his vampire kid.
"Prophecy," "rightful heirs," "final destination, secured." Does he mean us? Me and Anne Marie? Does he know we are here? He ordered the attack on the Blue Mooners; maybe he realizes he messed up. Maybe he knows now I am his mate. But how?
My head spins. I think of how he looks in my dreams; all muscle, power and those hungry eyes. A warmth pools low in my belly.
Anne Marie grips the coffee pitcher; I squeeze a greasy cleaning cloth. Jinx stirs inside me. And I smell it too. Jeffrey smells like winter pine and mint; the same scent Greyson passed down to him through blood and venom. When it isn't that vampiric, decaying blood smell (Patrick's own scent on him), it still pulls me in.
Jeffrey and me, our eyes lock. For a second, I see something. Care? Concern? I hold my breath. A maker can look through his progeny's eyes. Is Greyson watching me?
Jeffrey leans toward Amanda. He mumbles things too soft for humans. I am not human. I strain to hear the message. The room goes quiet while I force myself to wipe the table; my fingers are shaking.
Lady Amanda speaks. Her voice is smooth. She brings up the Moon Festival; the event that brings every creature in the country to Wolf Springs for Halloween. For elites, it is for alliances and pure pleasure. For omegas like us, it is a nightmare. They hunt us. They feast on us. Take us in ways I won’t even mention.
"The festival will be interesting this year," she says. Her lips curl into a knowing smile. "With new faces and... new possibilities..."
The room tenses. My heart pounds. She means us, the Blue Mooners. Captured. Sold. Bought. We are entertainment for their games.
Anne Marie grips the pitcher tighter. She is thinking of Marcus, Patrick's half brother. I am thinking of Patrick. The memories of our dreams do not stop. I clear my throat.
"Is there anything else you'd like, Madam Amanda?" Anne Marie asks. She sounds too cheerful.
Amanda's fangs gleam before she hides them. She looks at Lovette. They have that silent communication, just like us wolves; and it makes my stomach churn.
"No, but thank you," she says. She flicks her hand dismissively. "Go. Retire to your room..."
We walk away. I have seen that look before; she wears it before the witch comes to "treat" us. They know we are dreaming of futures they want to steal. I hear her mutter "witch" to Lovette.
In the hallway, Anne Marie pulls me against the wall. She digs her fingers into my arm.
"Sienna," she says. "Did you hear her? The witch is coming... tonight."
I nod. My throat feels tight.
"They're afraid," I say. "Afraid we'll find out what they..."
"Yeah. They altered our fates. They can't let us remember it," Anne Marie whispers.
Someone's coming. The footsteps are getting closer. We run down the hallway. Our shoes make no noise on the marble. The clicking of heels behind us is Lovette.
We get into our room and shut the door with a soft click. Anne Marie looks at me. The truth from this morning is there, looming between us; it feels like a blade in my gut. That witch plays games.
Her eyes are golden brown. My mother has eyes like that. Mayfield blood is in me; but this witch just wears familiarity like a mask. Witches use lies to lure you in; then they bind you with a spell.
Her potions are supposed to be healing balms. Lies. Our wolves tell us the truth. Those drinks just dull our senses so we do not dream of our true mates.
Lately, her magic is failing. Jinx always murmurs to me the truth. While Nix does the same for Anne Marie. When I dream of Patrick, his wolf Naeo is always there. He watches Jinx with blue glowing eyes. Anne Marie sees Marcus's wolf, Onyx. Our shadows move together in the moonlight.
"We have to be careful," Anne Marie says. She presses her palm to the door. Lovette's footsteps fade; but the dread stays. "They can't find out we're onto..."
I squeeze her hand.
"Agreed. But Annie... Why us? What are they hiding?"
Hours pass. I just sit here. No chores, no orders, just the same four walls for hours while our parents rot away in the Wolf Springs Shifter Penitentiary. I can almost feel the silver chains digging into their skin (the way it burns is a specific kind of misery). Suddenly, the smell of wolfsbane (a thick, metallic sludge) leaks under the door; it makes the back of my throat itch.
Then “she” shows up. She doesn't bother with the door; she just passes through the wood like she isn't actually solid. Her black robe looks like a heavy wool blanket that swallows her whole. Her eyes have that golden glow that makes my head ache. Two vials float over her palm, swirling with wolfsbane and some dark sludge that smells like old copper. She flicks her wrist and the glass drifts toward us.
"You will drink this. Now!"
Her voice is too smooth.
"But we don't..."
She doesn't let me finish.
"You will not dream of things that are not meant for you to dream..."
She uses her magic to jam the liquid down our throats. The potion tastes like wolfsbane, bitter almonds and warm oil. It hits my tongue and the room tilts to the left. Anne Marie hits the mattress with a heavy thud, her eyes already rolling back. I follow soon after.
The witch moves in fast. She tucks the blankets around Annie, gives her forehead a kiss. Then tucks mine around my chin with hands that smell like wet earth and jasmine. The same jasmine that grew in our old Blue Moon garden. She presses a kiss to my cheek; her skin feels warm and familiar.
"Sleep," she says.
Jinx growls at her in the back of my skull. It is a vibration that makes my teeth rattle. The potion pulls me down, but my mind keeps kicking. Behind my eyelids, the world shifts. Jinx is there, her golden eyes looking like hot coals in a black sky.
"We are one step closer to claiming it, Cee-Cee."
"How do we..."
She interrupts me. "Now, we just have to remember. We have to remember what happened..."
I see her wolf form run off into the distance. I chase after her.