By that time, Max had several people in his employ who had agreed to become what vampires would eventually call guardians. Paid handsomely for their services, while their primary purpose was to serve in the stables, the kitchen, or tend to the grounds, when the need arose, they would offer their wrist to those thirsty for blood. Given the guarantee no harm would come to them, it was rare for any to decline this extra duty.

Concepcion was shown to her room, and shortly afterward, three stable hands entered to do what was expected. Two escaped with their lives. The third did not. Max was livid, but his rage did not equal that of Concepcion’s when, over a dinner of mutton and potatoes, she found out about Bennett.

From the moment Concepcion became a vampire, her level of self-importance soared far above the clouds, so much so that before his death, her husband, Diego, avoided her whenever he could. She saw herself as the most privileged of the privileged, and in her mind’s eye, her immortality, strength, beauty, and intelligence were far superior to all others. Of course, beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and Concepcion’s vision was undeniably skewed, just like her perception of her own intellect. After all, everyone knows when you’re a guest in someone’s home, you treat them with respect…or you leave.

They sat at a lengthy trestle table, Concepcion’s dozen men on one side while twelve of Max’s sat on the other. The conversation was light and friendly until Max mentioned his new protégé. In less time than it took a hummingbird to flap its wing, Concepcion turned rabid. Insults spewed from her painted lips like projectile vomit, degrading and screeched criticisms that echoed throughout the great hall. Vampires and staff alike heard the woman’s tirade, and even though Concepcion’s people continued to eat, those who served Max did not. They knew their place, and they knew not to react without a sign from Max, but that didn’t stop their fangs from dropping. With heads hung, they listened as she rambled on, preparing themselves for when their patriarch had had enough. Maximillian Lumley was a proud man, and Concepcion was slandering not only his choices but his intelligence as well.

Concepcion saw herself as the queen of all vampires no matter what coven they belonged to, and getting to her feet, she took on the air of a royal. She declared all mortals to be nothing more than what was found at the bottom of the vessel where she emptied her bowels. They were weak, lowly creatures who weren’t to be trusted. Their only purpose was to provide vampires with the blood they needed, and to teach them—any of them—was ludicrous.