His glare said otherwise, but there was no time to argue. More vampires poured in, drawn by the scent of blood.
It felt endless. For every one they cut down, two more emerged from the shadows.
Then, suddenly, the mist inside the hall thickened, swirling into a vortex at the far end. From within it stepped a figure—taller, cloaked in black, his presence suffocating.
The vampires stilled, as though awaiting his command.
Selis's grin faded. "Oh, lovely. A master."
Lucian's eyes narrowed, his grip on his sword tightening. "Stay behind me."
Selis rolled her eyes even as her heart skipped. "Not a chance."
The figure's lips curved into a smile, revealing long, gleaming fangs. "Hunters," he purred, voice silken and cold. "How kind of you to bring yourselves to my table."
The basin of blood at the center of the hall began to ripple. Slowly, impossibly, the crimson liquid rose into the air, forming a writhing sphere above them.
Selis's stomach dropped. "That's… new."
