"And... one final look, Mr. Skyvar," the white-haired tailor requested. He and his five fitters had flown in from Italy for this occasion. He ran a professional eye over the vampire's lean form in the custom-fitted black tuxedo. He adjusted the silk bowtie at the neck and brushed invisible lint off the shoulders. "Perfetto! Now, for the final piece."
One of his assistants opened a long, rectangular lined box and lifted a folded woven cloth.
Jan groaned. "Do we really need this? The colors clash horribly."
The assistant spread out the fringed cloak to display Adams' ancestral green and black tartan from the Scottish mountains woven into the fleur-de-lys of Mistress Celine's Burgundy lineage. Josephs' kente from the western shores of Africa danced beside Carson's two crossed horseshoes. Eisenhower's orange and black checkered German pattern ended in fringes.
"Now, Mr. Skyvar. It is a proud display of the council's history. It is an honor for them to lend you their colors," the man patiently explained while he pinned the material on Jan's shoulder like a fly plaid. A hand-wrought silver brooch with three pine trees secured it in place.
"Are you not done?" Ivan asked, walking into the suite.
"Just finished, Mr. Petrovski," the tailor answered respectfully. "And congratulations once again, Mr. Skyvar. May Gaia bless your bond with the abundance of this earth."
He and his team bowed respectfully and walked out on silent feet.
Jan grabbed the edge of the fringed cloth as he stepped off the fitting platform to avoid tripping over it. "This thing is heavy. I wish we had said no when Adams suggested it."
A toothy smile flashed over Ivan's face. Dressed in similar clothes as his brother, sans the cloak, they made quite a dashing pair. "Adams would have drawn his colors on your face with a marker. He and Celine want everyone to know they stood behind you."
"You look happy," Jan noted, eyes narrowed at the rare joyful expression on the Russian's face. His brother shrugged nonchalantly, but Jan was not buying it. "Where've you been?"
The grin widened, and a mischievous twinkle danced in Ivan's eyes. "Oh, I just had to run to the airport. I heard a friend needed a favor, so I helped. On the way back, I remembered an old nursery rhyme about a wolf who huffed, puffed, and cried all the way home."
Louie barged before Jan could ask questions. "Let's go! We're late!"
The crimson embroidery on his coat shimmered under the light as he ushered them out of the house and into the waiting limo. Lorr was already inside, wearing a cowl-necked sequined gown that hugged her curves like a second skin. Its dark red color matched the paint on her lips, and she had twisted her glossy mane on top of her head, highlighting a long, graceful neck.
Jan's jaw dropped, realizing his sweet little niece was a full-grown vampiress. "You look amazing, malyshka!"
She blushed, flashing him a shy smile. "And so do you. You always look good in a suit."
Meanwhile, his brother scowled beside him. "Great. Now I'll have to spend the night fending off horny idiots."
Louie entered after Jan, settling down beside Lorr. "Everyone is trying to get on my last nerve! I've had it with these clans."
Just as the wheels began rolling, his phone started vibrating. Louie yanked it out, glanced at the screen, and groaned. "Yes, Mistress Celine."
The vampiress' accentuated voice spoke rapidly on the other end of the line while Louie rolled his eyes.
"No, Mistress Celine. I do appreciate your support. However, I can't accept your gift. The couple have explicitly stated that they'll not be having a harem of any sort. So I can't take your girls." Then he viciously cut the line, muttering under his breath. "No one wants your sluts, you miserable old hussy!"
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Blooded Mate
الخيال (فانتازيا)[[MATURE CONTENT]] Pack, family, mate. Loyalty, respect, honor. These are the words that form the foundation of the wolf society. At six years old, Ethan had to choose between his Alpha title and his survival on the night of his father's death. As a...
