Ambrose stood. “Control yourselves—”

From all around the room, the vampires lunged. Rosalind gripped the stake, crouching as a female vamp leapt for her. She thrust the stake upward, right into the vamp’s heart. This time, she didn’t miss, but another had already grabbed her from behind. She slammed her elbows into his ribs. She caught a glimpse of Caine cutting through a line of vamps in a whirlwind of silver and black, sword through bone. His jaw-dropping speed seemed almost otherworldly.

She whipped out the flamethrower, and as a hulking vamp leapt for her she depressed the button, unleashing a torrent of flames. Fire engulfed him, and his agonized shrieks turned her stomach. He flailed, screaming, until Caine sliced off his head in one smooth arc.

She glanced at Ambrose, but he was no longer in his throne. Her mouth went dry. He was right next to her, his fangs bared. Holy shit. She’d neither seen him nor heard him approach.

His green eyes locked on hers, and though her mind screamed run, her body wouldn’t obey. The Vampire Lord was a perfect predator, freezing her in place with his penetrating gaze. She stood in stunned silence as he licked his lips.

“Ambrose,” Caine spoke sharply. “Step back. That’s Rosalind.”

Ambrose growled, closing his eyes. His blond hair was unruffled—as if he hadn’t just witnessed a massacre in his own home. He reached out, swiping a cold finger through the blood dripping down her neck. He licked it, moaning almost imperceptibly. “Heal her before I rip her little body to shreds. She tastes exquisite.” He spoke with a clipped English accent. As he backed away, she saw that his eyes were a deep red.

Caine rushed to her, his body soaked with vampire blood. He looked like something from a nightmare. She had no idea how a human had managed to cut down a roomful of vampire nobility. Aside from Ambrose, only one vampire remained, a willowy female with dark skin.

Caine lifted his fingers to Rosalind’s neck, sending a hot thrill through her skin—an almost addictive sensation. He closed his eyes, chanting in the Angelic language, and the sharp pain in her neck subsided. As her wound healed, the Vampire Lord’s shoulders visibly relaxed, but his eyes remained fixed on Caine with a lethal glint.

“Why did you bring her here?”

“I didn’t,” Caine said. “She was supposed to stay in Abduxiel Mansion. Instead, she followed me through the portal.”

Ambrose steepled his fingers. With his perfect lips and sharp cheekbones, he could have been a model. Just like Caine. It was almost as though vampire aristocracy was determined by sheer beauty alone; maybe that was why Caine commanded such respect around here.

Ambrose’s eyes burned with ferocity. “You let her follow you here. A Hunter, who might tell the Brotherhood how to find us. And you see what’s happened. Eight of my best advisors, slaughtered. Not to mention that Rosalind nearly died. Has your mind become muddled because of your familial connection?”