Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1) by Rebecca Grey (electric book reader TXT) 📕

that Mica craps his pants when he realizes one of his girls is gone... Only to find her here.”

No one would dare even suggest that in The Bend. Not unless they felt they had truly been done wrong and had every good reason to. It's one of the few unspoken rules. And it'd lead to a head to head battle between businesses and affiliated groups of Hybrids.

“Won’t that start a war?” I say. It's posed as a question but really, if she's smart enough to read between the lines, it's advice.

“Human, we are already at war," Hedda steams.

The tempo of the music still carries to where we are gathered on the second floor, overlooking the dancing girls below. I haven't another thing to add and I clench my jaw tightly closed, knowing full and well I'm about to take this on without earning anything in addition for myself. So, I let the music drift between us. Let it linger with the uncomfortable silence that's fallen on the conversation.

I turn my gaze away from Hedda's round face and the challenge in her eyes. Blood still splatters the floor where the man had died mere moments before. One of the dancers holds a mop in her hands, scrubbing against the wood as she works to wipe it all away. Even when she finishes and sticks the mop back into the small bucket and begins to cart it off, red has filled every crack in the grain of the wood. It swirls like it is part of the intended pattern.

No one looks up at us. No one's gaze is as curious as mine. Curious... and cautious. I look for bright red eyes and fangs on the faces of every dancer down there. She has more than one Vampire working here, I'm sure. The dancer who'd let Juilliard gawk at her womanly form is either lost to the crowd, likely swaying against some other paying patron, or she’s lurking in the shadows somewhere.

An annoying habit, but one the Vampires just can't seem to break. They love to hide in the cloak of night and any bit of shadowy reprieve. I don't entirely blame them. I too like to sulk in the shadows to keep myself as mysterious as possible.

Juilliard fidgets while he waits, exhaling a long breath as if that'll rush me to answering. Hedda and Marcello exchange a glance while I'm quiet. Once I feel like the silence has been good and drawn out, letting them stew in my annoyance for long enough, I finally speak again.

"Fine." I look directly into Marcello's conspiring silver gaze. "I'll do it. But I'm not happy."

"Wonderful!" Marcello claps and Juilliard gives a pathetic sounding "woo," at his side.

Hedda gives us a healthy grin and rushes forward to take my hand. "Come here, girl," she hisses, trying to snatch me up. I move and she stumbles by, looking from her hand to mine, where they should be connected but are not. "Very good!" She grins again and begins waving me forward.

None of them pay any mind to the women and patrons tangled in scandalous activity all around us. Hedda leads us through them and past many doors, rooms to be rented for all sorts of activities. Eventually she stops at the end of the long hall and we've lost our view of the first floor, the band, and Juilliard's waiting Vampire. On either side are rooms where moaning, both real and fake can be heard, even through the doors. The faraway music doesn't hide the chorus of these noises in the least.

There's a large square window that looks out on the rest of the tiny village. Hedda taps her round finger against the glass, her hot breath fogging it up as she talks. "Not this roof but, the next. That is Mica’s business. Pick a girl, any girl, I don't care. Actually, I do. Pick a pretty girl, not one of those snaggletooth ones with the lopsided breasts he favors." She cuts her hand through the air.

I follow her finger briefly to the rooftop that she mentions. Then I lose myself in my own curiosity as I watch pirate Elves singing and dancing with all their might in the streets. There is joy on their faces, the sort of joy I find myself suddenly jealous of.

In due time… In due time...I try to remind myself. This isn't all for nothing. It’s for the things that they take for granted that you have yet to receive or experience. You'll win that for yourself.

I bob my head. "Any girl," I repeat.

"Any of ‘em." Hedda turns her breath on me and it's layered with spices and rum.

"You're a good girl for doing this," Marcello says. And he's almost sincere enough not to fake a smile. I have nothing to say to him though, I've gotten myself into this miserable situation and I'm about to get myself out.

"Give me your cloak." I snap my fingers at Juilliard.

"No." He grabs his chest and steps away. "This is my cloak."

"I can give you my coat." Marcello chimes in.

With a groan, I pinch the bridge of my nose. How can Hybrids be the superior species when they are just so fucking stupid? "The cloak is meant to help me blend in. I smell like a Human. It will draw more attention if a Human is running around all the businesses than if I smell like an Elf."

"Give her your cloak." Marcello smacks Juilliard's arm, saying it as if it was his idea from the get-go.

Juilliard plucks at the ties that hold it to him, staring at me with distaste. I take my cloak off and throw it at him as he tosses me his. As soon as the material graces my fingers, I'm already shook by how fine the fabric is. The outside is soft, reminding me of a dark suede