My Vampire Baron appeared from the shadows, a silent, elegant specter of bored, aristocratic menace.
He gave Isabelle a long, appraising look, his midnight-dark eyes narrowing for a fraction of a second.
"You wished to see me, my Lord?" he asked, his voice a smooth, cultured baritone that dripped with condescension.
"I require a benchmark," I explained, gesturing to Isabelle.
"A sparring match. You versus our newly ascended Saint."
"No killing. No maiming. Well, maybe a little maiming."
"First one to yield, or be put in a position where they would be very, very dead, loses."
Izayoi's lips curved into a faint, cruel smile.
"As you command, my Lord."
"It has been a while since I have had a proper… workout."
The other commanders formed a loose circle, their faces a study in monstrous anticipation.
Chloe stood in the shadows, her arms crossed, her expression a mask of cold, professional indifference.
But I could feel the waves of pure, undiluted jealousy radiating from her.
