Most likely. He should care, he thought. Just then, he cared about nothing.

As the introductions continued, he found himself tuning out the voices and studying his surroundings. Even without Elijah, Julian and Caleb tossing out their opinions about everything every few seconds, Aden was still distracted, unable to concentrate. A long red carpet stretched from the dais to the front double doors. The same swirling symbols that decorated the throne also decorated the carpet.

There were no lamps present, only elaborate candela-bras that produced flickering golden flames and ribbons of black smoke. On each side of the room were, strangely enough, stone steps—or bleachers—broken only by the four round columns stretching to the domed ceiling. They led to a platform where uniformed guards stood, swords strapped to their sides.

Humans sat on the steps. He knew they were humans because their skin ranged in color, from slightly tanned to darkest of mocha. Plus, their facial features lacked the perfection of the vampires. They, too, wore robes, though theirs were bereft of both jewels and sleeves. Easier access to their pulse points that way, Aden supposed. And he didn’t have to ask them if they wanted to be here. They were watching the vamps with unabashed longing in their eyes.

Blood-slaves, he thought then. Victoria had once told him that humans quickly became addicted to a vampire’s bite. Aden hadn’t believed her at the time. He believed her now. Since then, she’d bitten him twice and each time had been…heaven. Her teeth produced some sort of chemical or drug that numbed a human’s skin, then sweetly burned their blood.

“And finally,” Victoria said from beside him, returning his thoughts to the present, “I’m pleased to introduce you to my sisters.”

They’d reached the end of the line already? How long had he been casing the room?

“The first,” she continued, “is the Princess Stephanie.”

A beautiful blonde stepped forward and inclined her head in greeting. Like the others, she wore a robe. Until she reached up and pushed the material from her shoulders, and the thing whooshed to the floor, pooling at her feet. She lifted her chin, practically daring him to object. At least she’d had clothing on underneath the robe. Now she wore a black T-shirt with a jewel-studded rainbow in the center—the makeup on her face matched perfectly—as well as black jeans and bright red boots that hit her knees.

When he said nothing about her wardrobe switch, she relaxed.

As she chewed her gum, her green gaze roved over him. “Cute,” she announced. “And oh, baby doll, you do give off a powerful vibe, don’t you? Makes me want to touch you.”

With your teeth, I’d bet. “Uh, thank you,” he said. Everyone else had said only “My king” or nothing at all. Well, the ones he remembered. “Please don’t be offended, but I’m asking that you…not.”

She grinned, as noncommittal as possible. “So you’re the one who defeated Dmitri, huh?”

“Looks like.” While fists had pounded and blades had slashed, he hadn’t known this was what awaited him if he succeeded. If he had… No, he thought then. No matter what, he would have done what he’d done. His instincts had taken over, and he’d wanted only to eliminate the person who had hoped to eliminate Riley and Mary Ann. And okay, fine, he’d also wanted to destroy the guy who planned to marry Victoria.

Stephanie arched a brow. “So how do you expect to rule us, human boy?”

Human boy. He shrugged; he’d been called worse. “I honestly don’t know.”

She offered him another grin. “Honesty. I like that. It’s different.”

Vlad had lied to his daughters? About what?

“So, listen,” she said. “I’d really love to…toast your victory. What do you say we—”

Victoria stiffened, even grabbed his arms in a protective gesture. Riley, who stood at his other side, merely chuckled.

“We do not drink from our king,” Victoria said stiffly.

What? She’d planned to toast his victory by using his neck as a juice box?

Stephanie tossed up her arms. “Ever?”

“Correct,” Riley said.

Scarlet lips turned down, the lower one sticking slightly out. Her shoulders sagged. “Fine, then, but I have other questions for our future king. Like—”

“Now isn’t the time for that, and you know it,” Riley interjected gently. “Later, princess.”

A moment passed in silence. Then another, “Fine. But I will ask my questions soon. They’re important.”

Riley didn’t back down. “I’m sure they are. As for now, goodbye.”

In a huff, Stephanie picked up her discarded robe, swung around and stomped out of the room. A door slammed.

Only one person remained in the line. The other sister, he thought, her delicate face somehow familiar to him.

Victoria motioned her forward. “This is the Princess Lauren.”

The cool blonde with the crystal eyes inclined her head in greeting. Like Stephanie, she had ditched the traditional robe. Unlike Stephanie, she wore a skintight black leather half top and matching pants. She had real barbed wire wrapped around her wrists and weapons strapped all over her body.

“So you are Aden Stone, the human I’ve heard so much about. I admit there’s a draw to you, as Stephanie said, but you’re nothing like my father.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment, you idiot!”

He shrugged. She said tomato; he said suck it.

Her eyes narrowed. “Like my little sister, I have questions, human. Unlike my sister, I expect, no, I demand answers this night.”

“King,” Riley snapped at her. “‘My king.’ That’s how you will address him from this moment on.”

Her chin rose, though she never removed her attention from Aden. “In thirteen days, I’ll call him king. Until then…”

For a moment, Aden thought she might be considering unsheathing one of her blades and tossing it at his heart, and a cold sweat broke out over his skin. Not a stabbing. Not again.

But she remained in place and said, “Besides, I haven’t decided to follow him.”

Riley descended the dais to stand just in front of her, nose-to-nose. “Is that a challenge?”

Above, the guards with the swords appeared ready to pounce. On Aden, Riley or Lauren, he wasn’t sure. “Enough,” Aden said, not knowing what else to do. I am not king. I don’t want to be king. But something had to be done. “We’ll argue about this later. As for now, glad as I am to meet a member of Victoria’s family, the introductions are over. You may go.” Did that sound kingly enough?

Surprisingly, yes. With a stiff nod and murderous glare, Lauren spun on her heel and stalked from the chamber. Once again, the door slammed shut. He noticed the humans were gone, too. He’d never heard them leave, but they’d somehow silently melted away.

“What now?” he asked, standing. Dizziness swept through him, and he had to grip the throne arm to remain upright. Just how long had he been sitting down?

“There’s a reception in your honor.” Victoria smoothed the hair from his brow, the caress gentle, warm. “Are you all right?”

No. Yes. Maybe. “What time is it?”

“Almost three.”

He’d been here for four hours, then. And in three more hours, he would have to “wake up” to get ready for school. “I have to return to the ranch soon. We’ve got school tomorrow, and I can’t miss again.” He knew she could fix things with her voice, making everyone think he was there when he wasn’t, but he wanted to go. He’d had to fight to be able to attend, and he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to learn, to better himself.

Yeah, he’d probably sleep through every class, because even now, he fought a yawn, but he’d still go. Maybe the lessons would sink into his subconscious.

“Just a little while longer, then I’ll take you home.” Her palms flattened on his shoulders before sliding around to cup the back of his neck. She pressed herself against him. “I promise.”

Did she plan to kiss him? They’d kissed before, but only gently, and not for nearly long enough. He’d wanted more then and despite his condition, he knew he’d want more now. He’d want her tongue, her taste and her teeth.

A minute ticked by, then another, but she merely held him. He tried not to wallow in disappointment. At least he cared about something now, he mused.

“This whole place is a stereotype, you know that?” he said in an attempt to distract himself. “All this black. The robes. The creep factor.”

“Father loved stereotypes. Loved playing to them.”

Her father. There was something Aden should know about the man, he thought, something he needed to tell her…but again, he could think of nothing. “Why did he love playing to them?”

One of her shoulders lifted in a delicate shrug. “People who encounter us think we’re merely humans pretending to be vampires. We’re considered weird, but we aren’t considered a threat.”

He understood. Weirdos were avoided, left alone. Threats were hunted, eliminated.

“The same could be said of you right now, Aden Stone.” Amusement layered her tone. “My people consider you weird rather than a threat.”

“And how do you know that?”

“No one tried to kill you.”

“True,” he said with a smile.

“And I’m proud of you, you know,” she said huskily, gaze dropping to his lips, then his neck.

Was she thirsty? Please…

Riley coughed.

They ignored him.

Praise had always been a rare commodity in Aden’s life, and he soaked hers up. In the institutions, the doctors had merely questioned him and the other patients had been wrapped up in their own problems. In foster homes, neither the well-meaning nor the uncaring parents had known how to deal with him, had even feared him. At the ranch, the other kids had ridiculed him at first.