Passion of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 5) by Bella Klaus (read novels website txt) 📕

in my surroundings. On the far left stood a cream-and-brown mosaic wall that depicted a male and female couple sitting on matching thrones. From their attire, I guessed they were Greek gods—Hades and his consort, perhaps? Beneath it was a circular tub sunken into the marble floor.

This wasn’t technically a bathroom because there were no sinks and toilets, only the most comfortable looking golden chaise upholstered with ivory velvet and a tall mirror with a gilded frame. How were Nut and Geb coping with the three-headed dog? It hadn’t attacked Macavity and me when we were traveling out from Hell, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t attack the demons.

I walked to a chaise and flopped down, considering my options. Dinner with Hades wasn’t too much of a hardship. The food would be great and he’d either be charming or crude, which I supposed I could handle. But that seventh course made every hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I couldn’t take off my clothes for anyone but Valentine, and he wouldn’t ask me to do something as silly as cover myself in leaves while he ate dessert off my body.

“Absolutely not.” Hades could demand what he wanted, but I had only agreed to a meal. A meal that entailed at least one person eating in the other’s presence fully clothed.

“Miss Griffin?” A woman emerged from nowhere, wringing her hands. Even though she had the liquid magic of a water mage, her blue hair, pale skin, and flowing blue gown made me wonder if she was a water nymph. “Your bath is ready.”

“No.”

She reared back. “I beg your pardon?”

“Tell your master that our agreement didn’t include bathing, changing into strange outfits, or becoming a dinner plate.”

She rippled away and returned a second later. “My lord says you will not leave this room until you ready yourself for dinner.”

“Alright.”

Her features relaxed into a warm smile, and she offered me a hand. “Let’s get you out of those hideous clothes.”

“No, I meant alright, I’ll stay here all night.” I stretched myself out on the comfortable chaise. “Good night.”

The nymph stood over me, seeming to wait for me to calm down, come to my senses, or change my mind. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out her presence. When she exhaled a sigh, and the watery magic ebbed away like the tide, the tenseness of my muscles loosened, and I could finally relax.

I placed a hand in my pocket and brushed my fingers over the smooth crystal sphere. Now would be a good time to connect with Valentine’s heart, but I didn’t want to take the chance in enemy territory. Instead, I took several deep breaths and imagined myself descending a flight of steps.

It was an exercise Istabelle had taught me to perform at night while I was staying in her upstairs apartment in the first days of my apprenticeship. Each step would guide me deeper into a relaxation that led to a refreshing sleep. Sometimes, it would take fifty or more steps for me to drift off, but the more I did it, the sooner I got to sleep.

I inhaled a deep breath, filling my lungs with air. One. Next I placed my left foot onto the top step of a stone staircase that stretched into infinity. As my right foot touched the step, I released all the air in an outward breath. Two. I continued this meditation, clearing my thoughts of Valentine and Jonathan and Benny and Hades. Beatrice’s wrinkled face took up the void, and I made a mental note to call Lazarus the moment I got free.

At about seventeen or eighteen, exhaustion took over, and I drifted into a deep sleep. Valentine appeared in my dream—not his soul or the preternatural version or even him when he was alive. It was the younger smirking mockery that Jonathan had manufactured. Our teeth clicked together as we kissed, and I slapped him hard on the face. He morphed back into Jonathan and sobbed that I had killed him.

My eyes snapped open, and I stared into the magnolia walls of the dressing room, my heart pounding.

I pulled myself off the chaise and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. “Why the hell was I dreaming about him?”

“Miss Griffin?” asked a small voice.

Another bloody water nymph stepped into my line of sight. This one’s hair was as white as foam, and she wore a transparent gown that barely covered her nipples. I snatched my gaze away, curling my hands into fists. Did these women work in shifts?

“Yes?” I asked.

“My lord wants to know if you’re ready for breakfast.”

“Not if I’m going to be covered in pancakes and chocolate syrup,” I muttered.

Her magic rippled away.

I turned to stare at the space she’d vacated, waiting for her to return like the other nymph.

She didn’t.

I slipped my hand into the pocket of my cloak and extracted my phone. The time was 7:06am. I exhaled a long breath and slumped back into my seat, waiting for Hades to send someone else to convince me to get changed.

My stomach made a noise that sounded more like a three-headed dog than a bodily function, and I pressed a hand over it, trying to calm my hunger. As the minutes passed, my skin tightened and then rippled with the sensation of ants crawling over my flesh. I rubbed at my arms, rolled my shoulders, and shifted on the chaise.

This was just like how I’d found my teammates shortly after Kresnik had stolen their magic, but mine was still intact. Sure, I was hungry, but a lack of food never caused my skin to feel so irritated.

More time passed, and sweat beaded across my skin. Hades hadn’t adjusted the temperature, so why was I feeling so feverish? Heat coursed through my veins, and every inch of skin became clammy. When the warmth coalesced between my legs in a series of desperate pulses, I bit down on my lip and thought about Valentine.

Valentine’s lips, Valentine’s muscular body,