Free Vamped Up by Kristin Miller

he took his seat at the center of one long black table and spread the scrolls out, securing the curled edges with two silver blades. Candles on wall-hanging sconces behind him wavered, flittering shadows on the pale faces of the expectant vamps and their respective Primuses. “It’s too late,” she whispered. “They’re getting started.”
    Dark swags of fabric hanging from the twelve-foot ceiling breathed and rolled against the charcoal-gray walls as a rogue draft swept through the circular room. A hush fell over the crowd as the Primuses stood from their prospective khisses on the outside ring and took their places at tables in the inner circle.
    It was the rightful claiming of title. One seat on the inner circle for each Primus in the area. General khiss members, guards, and blood-dolls stood back, watching as the Primuses sat together, becoming one unit.
    Loud stomps sounded from the foyer behind Dylan and Slade. Someone was coming, about to enter the council’s chamber . . .
    Just when Dylan thought she’d lost her chance to warn Ruan about what was coming for Eve, the back doors swung open, banging against the walls, announcing an entrance with two resounding thuds.
    All eyes turned to the menacing-looking figure in black. Guards clutched knives on their belts. Primuses went rigid. Slade rolled his eyes. The room only relaxed when everyone saw the familiar face of a former royal guard.
    Ruan looked mean. Angrier than Dylan had ever seen him. His blonde hair was slick and pulled back from his face, revealing the tightness in his jaw and the hatred burning in his eyes.
    Had he really grown to hate them so fast? Had this conflict with Eve’s blood driven such a huge wedge between them that he’d never return to their haven and ReVamp? No, she had to believe this would blow over. He’d come back to their khiss, his home, the only home he’d ever known, and get back to work. It’s what he did . . .
    Without scanning the large room, he sat down a few empty seats to Dylan’s right. He didn’t spare her a single look. But she knew he saw her there. He clasped his hands in his lap and stared straight forward, the black of his sweatshirt starkly contrasting the pallor of his skin.
    “Here we go,” Slade grumbled, planting a kiss square on Dylan’s lips. “I gotta take my place, too.” He slid out of the aisle, past Ruan, without giving him the dignity of a glance. Slade took his post alongside Hiram’s guards on the back wall, one of them being his cousin Erock, who was dressed in full kick-ass gear—leather pants, boots, and a trench coat hiding more silver than Dylan cared to speculate about.
    Slade winked at Dylan and planted his hands on his hips. He was cool and calm compared to Erock, who acted like he had a stake up his ass. It might’ve been because Slade knew he didn’t need weapons and a mean mug to be a deadly predator. He had something none of the vampires in this room did: therian blood.
    Dylan knew it wasn’t easy for Slade to conform to their khiss’s rules and responsibilities. Despite his upbringing that taught him vampires were nothing more than greedy leeches, Slade had agreed to use his shape-shifting ability to protect their khiss . . . which meant he was Hiram’s intel. His right-hand man, next to his own son, Erock. Dylan was damn proud.
    Before Hiram could address the other Primuses, Dylan leaned across the seats. “Glad you came, Ruan,” she whispered. “We have to talk.”
    He nodded so subtly she might’ve missed it. He rolled his shoulders back and kinked his neck to the side. He’d never been this tense before, being amongst his kind. She wondered what triggered it now.
    “Fellow Primuses,” Hiram began, choosing to stand and lean across the table rather than sit idly. His eyes scanned the Primuses to his left, and to his right. Each royal sat rigid and straight, waiting for the news that had them dragged out of their havens after daybreak. “I appreciate you