Chapter 2

SALEM’S POV

A WEEK OF PREPARATION FLEW BY IN A FLASH. NOW, IT WAS SHOW TIME. The grounds of the Summers’ mansion bustled with guests waiting to watch the ceremony. Salem had already seen the work Valencia put in to decorate the estate. Her decorative efforts left no stone unturned. The Summers’ estate had transformed—otherworldly—by the time the vampire’s housemaid finished.

Outside, the mansion loomed over the outer courtyard, casting shadows along the manicured grass. Valencia threaded magical lights through the trees which lined the outskirts of the property. The stone walkways paved

throughout the estate’s vast grounds were inscribed with magic symbols that lit up as one walked along them—with one exception. A finely woven red carpet spanned from the estate’s door to the middle of the courtyard where the ritual would take place. Among other aesthetic choices, Valencia

had also catered food and drink for the guests and hired capable vampires to man the stations.

Salem tried to ask Valencia how much the overly indulgent expenditures cost the treasury, but she chastised him. “Having babies is expensive, my lord. What we spent on this ceremony is a drop in the bucket to what you will pay once the baby is born.” She had a point, but Salem suspected

Valencia was going overboard because of her love for babies.

Making Salem’s ceremony impressionable and romantic would definitely leave a lasting impression on his mates. And hell, if Salem summoned three mates, he was screwed either way.

Besides, summoning mates is a once in a lifetime kind of event. Even if it went horribly wrong, Salem would still have to produce an heir and contend with his people and his mates. So when Valencia initially asked him to use funds from the treasury, he shrugged and said, “why not?” Might

as well enjoy the occasion, right?

From the second floor, Salem peered out a floor-to-ceiling window and paled when he saw the packed courtyard. The scene outside reminded him of the mortal books one of his fathers had given him once called Where’s Waldo? Salem was never very good at picking Waldo out. In fact, he was

downright terrible at it because objects in his vision often bled together.

Similarly, the vampires on his lawn blurred into one living, breathing blob. Salem wouldn’t be able to tell anyone apart no matter how hard he tried—and hoped those skills wouldn’t be tested during the ritual. He had

enough to worry about.

“Good thing you ordered so much food,” he grumbled to Valencia, who stood beside him.

“Yes, it looks like we have a full house. I’ll have the crew on standby just in case,” she reassured. “No one will complain of an empty stomach tonight.”

Salem shook off the jitters that crawled through him. You can’t back out now, he thought. So getting nervous is pointless!

He turned away from the window and stilled his racing heart. Valencia approached him and adjusted his tie. She smoothed his coat and primed his hair before stepping back and admiring her efforts. “Are you nervous?”

“Maybe.” Salem told her. “Okay, yes.”

“It’ll be okay,” Valencia told him. “You have that, remember?”

Salem reached up and touched the amulet his father left him. He tucked it under his dress shirt and took a deep breath.

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

They descended the stairs together and stepped outside onto the veranda. The night air was crisp and ripe with fog that rolled across the grounds and engulfed the floor of the courtyard like a bad omen. The vampires waiting outside noticed him standing on the veranda and erupted in cheer. Salem had never seen so many people together at once. Not since his coronation, at least. The dense crowd spread all the way back to the hedges that outlined the estate’s expansive outer courtyard. It appeared everyone in Bloodborne had shown up to the Summoning Ceremony. Salem paled at the thought.

Valencia placed a reassuring hand on the vampire king’s back. He appreciated her encouragement—but this time; he didn’t need it. With resolve, Salem continued forward alone.

The summoning circle sat in the center of the courtyard where four stone paths intersected. Vampires cloistered together along the outskirts of the path, like fans ogling an idol. Salem traversed the main walkway and stopped at the edge of the circle. Silence permeated the grounds as the

surrounding crowd watched with bated breath.

Salem stepped into the circle and sat in the center with his legs crossed.

He closed his eyes and focused. The circle began to glow red and power electrified the air. The energy within the circle was more intense than Salem had expected. He panted, out of breath as the power overwhelmed him.

Contained to the inner circle, wind whipped his hair and drowned out the voices of Salem’s audience. His ears popped as the deafening roar of the wind consumed him. One final burst of power hit him and knocked the air out of his lungs. When it was over, his insides—especially his lungs— burned as if he’d swallowed fire.

When he looked up, eyes watering, Salem’s breath hitched. Red, Blondie, and Wolf-Eyes watched him from across the circle, mere feet from him. Salem rubbed his eyes and blinked. He pinched himself just to be sure—but no; he wasn’t dreaming.

Salem’s body reacted to his mates’ presence in ways he hadn’t prepared for: his heart raced, palms slick with sweat; his skin was hot, tingling with anticipation; and blood rushed to his loins. As their eyes met, time seemed to slow down. He forgot how to breathe, how to think—and for a moment,

how to act. All the background noise seemed to disappear.

As soon as the shock wore off, Salem returned to the present reality—where the crowd’s unease was palpable. He could see the gears turning in their minds, multiplied by thousands. The hair on the back of Salem’s neck rose. How was he going to explain the fact that he’d just summoned three mates? He swallowed hard and worked his brain for a solution.

Suddenly, Valencia bellowed from the veranda, “the late king’s magic has worked!” She appeared next to Salem and snatched the amulet from his person like a skilled pickpocket.

Valencia held it up above her head for all to see. “The late king gave me this amulet and told me to pass it on to Salem Summers before his summoning ceremony. I have done my duty, and the gods have blessed us with a miracle!” Valencia’s acting was superb. Her dramatic gestures, tearful eyes, and commanding voice breathed authenticity into her masterful acting. She puffed her chest up with pride and pumped her fist in the air.

“The amulet has granted our lord not just one, but three mates! Bloodborne will be saved!”

They bought her act hook, line, and sinker.

The masses burst to life as celebration rippled through the cheering vampires. Salem knew summoning three mates had everything to do with him being a Blue Blood, not the amulet, but they believed Valencia, so he took a deep breath and followed her lead. Salem stood and addressed his

mates.

“Welcome, my mates,” he greeted, spreading his arms wide open.

“Please, step forward for your contract.”

The three men standing with him in the magic circle hesitated. Salem hoped the pleading look in his eyes was enough to communicate his circumstances. Somehow it worked. His mates stepped forward and knelled

at his feet.

Salem steadied his racing heart and proceeded with the ritual. He started with Wolf-Eyes and placed his hand atop the man’s head. Salem’s eyes glowed purple the moment they forged their contract.

Now, his energy connected to Wolf-Eyes—and in the aftermath, Salem saw stars. His heart jumped in his chest and adrenaline coursed through his veins like lightning. Goosebumps tingled across his arms. Salem pushed

through the sensations—which was easier said than done—and repeated the gesture with the other two. With the contracts out of the way, it was time to seal the deal with blood.

Valencia returned to his side with a small, enchanted dagger. He took it from her and held it out to Wolf-Eyes. “Blood will seal the contract,” he explained, gesturing to his mate’s right hand.

Wolf-Eyes did as Salem instructed and drew a small cut on the palm of his hand.

Salem stared at the blood as it beaded to the surface of Wolf-Eyes’ skin.

All of his vampire senses were tingling—begging for him to get a taste. The smell of wolf’s blood was intoxicating. Overcome by it, he couldn’t help himself. Salem reached for the man’s hand and licked the blood from his mate’s palm—the sweet metallic flavor waking his senses like a shot of espresso. Salem concentrated and his eyes glowed again as the final blood ritual took effect. Spiritually, Salem sensed their essence intertwining with one another.

His intuition proved right when the Mark—a symbol of their new connection—appeared on the back of Wolf-Eyes’ hand in the shape of the Summer’s family crest. An upside down crescent moon with three horizontal lines beneath it would forever bind Salem and Wolf-Eyes together, for the Mark was permanent.

The rest of the ceremony moved expeditiously as Red and Blondie mimicked Wolf-Eyes’ earlier actions, each offering their blood and assuming Marks of their own. Salem backed up and cast his eyes to their audience. He surveyed his people, who watched on in silence, before announcing in a loud, proud voice, “I, Salem Summers, recognize these

three men as my mates.”

Now that he had officially recognized them and provided each of them with a Mark, there was no turning back.

Salem had waited for this moment—this point of no return—because it substantially increased the odds they would accept his mates. He pushed on, beckoning to his mates. “Please introduce yourselves.”

Red was the first to move. He stood and placed his hand over his heart in such a way to show off his Mark. “My name is Ulrich of the Wilds. I pledge my undying love and loyalty to you, my lord.” Ulrich bowed and returned to kneeling.

Next, Wolf-Eyes straightened, mimicking Ulrich’s pose. “My name is Thoren, also from the Wilds. I pledge my all to you, my lord.” Thoren knelled as Salem’s third mate, Blondie, took a turn.

“Cecil, Sorcerean magi prince... at your service. I pledge my heart and loyalty to you, my lord.”

At the mention of Sorcerea, the hoard of vampires erupted. Their bolstering voices conglomerated like a chorus of dissent. Like an angry mob, they flashed their fangs and pumped clenched fists into the air. Cecil’s admission had added fuel to a long kindling fire, but that wasn’t the magi’s

fault.

Watching their protest unfold, Salem’s chest tightened, pulse spiked, and skin flushed. Then he saw the hurt, confused expressions on his mates’ faces and the blood drained from his face.

“Silence! Cecil was not the one who cursed us!” he bellowed, stunning the crowd into submission. Salem exhaled a heavy breath and studied the vampires staring back at him. “I have put off an heir long enough. Without this, we’ll perish. Is that what you want?” As his gaze swept from face to face, each averted their eyes. He smelled their shame and stood tall and confident under their scrutiny. “I will not allow my mate to be a scapegoat.

Show such disrespect to any of them again and you will answer to me.”

Salem turned to face the three men from his dreams and wrung his hands. “I apologize on behalf of my people. Please, continue. I want everyone here to know who you are and what you now mean to me.” He bowed his head as a sign of respect, which elicited more gasps. After Salem’s earlier criticism, no one dared speak.

In the silence that followed, Ulrich and Thoren shifted into their beast forms. The sight his mates treated him to was a treat. Ulrich, who was alluring already, transformed into a towering dragon with onyx scales that shone in the moonlight and piercing red eyes.

Beside the gargantuan beast, Thoren shifted into a large, gorgeous wolf with golden eyes and matching fur.

Salem’s third mate, Cecil, wasn’t a shifter like Ulrich and Thoren.

Instead of transforming, he pulled a beautifully crafted wand from his waistband and cast a spell that created an illusion of fireworks popping overhead. When the illusion disappeared, Ulrich and Thoren reverted to their human forms.

Salem never imagined in hundreds of years that his mates would be such powerful, refined men. Pride swelled in his chest. He clapped in response to their lavish display, and would have asked for an encore if they were alone.

Frankly, Salem was never allowed beyond the estate walls. His sheltered lifestyle had left him unprepared for all the marvels the outside world contained. Growing up, magic had been sparse and looking back, Salem couldn’t recall a single time he’d ever seen a human turn into a beast before. Yet Ulrich and Thoren had just done it right in front of his very eyes—not to mention Cecil’s thrilling magic show. A fire burned within Salem’s soul. He wanted to know everything about them, and to do that, he had to get them inside.

He signaled to Valencia that it was time to shut down the ceremony and led his mates down the winding, red carpeted path to the veranda. At the top of the stairs, Salem turned and addressed his citizens. “Long live Bloodborne!” The vampire king raised one, triumphant fist into the air before turning on his heel and escorting Ulrich, Cecil, and Thoren inside.

Valencia locked the doors and danced to his side. She gave him a knowing look and grinned. Salem grinned back, but it felt forced. Like a sinner or a criminal with blood on his hands, he felt wrong. Salem hated telling lies.

Valencia nudged him in the side with her elbow. “You’ve got such a dark look on your face,” she warned under her breath, pulling Salem from his thoughts. “Your mates are finally here. Try to show them your good side, yes?”

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed.”

“That’s only natural,” Valencia gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and winked. “I’ll quadruple my efforts around the estate so you four can focus.”

“Yeah, okay,” Salem rolled his eyes and smiled.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Valencia clapped her hands together and turned around to address Cecil, Ulrich, and Thoren. “Who’s hungry?”

As if on cue, their stomachs growled. Valencia cackled and blinked out of existence.