Chapter 94: The Gathering Part One

Steam rolled off Renée's skin as she stepped out of the massive stone shower, the air thick with heat and the lingering scent of the lavender-infused soaps she had treated herself to. The bathroom was nothing short of decadent—sprawling marble floors, towering mirrors, and golden fixtures that gleamed in the soft lighting. It had clearly been designed for pleasure, for indulgence, and she had no intention of denying herself either.

Reaching for a thick white towel embroidered with a bold golden V, she wiped away the condensation clinging to the mirror. Her lips curled into a satisfied grin as her reflection came into view.

God, I look good.

Ruby eyes met her own, glowing like polished gems in the light, framed by high cheekbones and lips that always seemed one smirk away from trouble. She let her gaze trail lower, admiring the sculpted perfection of her form—the smoothness of her stomach, the fullness of her breasts, the strength in her thighs. She had been beautiful as a human, but now? Now, she was something else entirely. Turning slightly, she watched as the light caught the sharp lines of her body. Every inch of her was flawless.

Immortality has its perks.

Leaving the humidity of the bathroom behind, she moved toward the large armoire, her mind drifted not just to the past week but to the seven years that had come before. Immortality had a way of making time feel endless, each day folding into the next, blurring into one long, perfect day of forever.

As she reached for the handle, the golden light spilling in from the balcony caught her attention. A breeze stirred the curtains, teasing her senses with the crisp scent of summer. A grin tugged at her lips as she turned toward the doors, drawn by the morning sun.

With a single motion, she swung them wide and stepped out onto the balcony, letting the sunlight drench her bare skin.

Renée stretched her arms wide. The human habit served no real purpose anymore, but she liked the motion all the same. There was something deeply satisfying about the subtle glide of her shoulder blades beneath her skin. She gave her shoulders a slow roll, savoring the effortless motion as the warm breeze skimmed across her skin, carrying the scent of sun-warmed stone and distant blooming flowers.

Below, the gardens stretched out in a perfect blend of nature and order—lush greenery, winding pathways, and koi-filled fountains that sparkled under the bright morning light. It was beautiful, yes, but more than that, it felt alive. The rustling of leaves, the occasional flutter of wings from a bird daring to land on a balcony's edge—it was the kind of morning that made her want to linger right there, soaking in every sound, every scent, every ripple of life below.

She tilted her face toward the sun, letting its warmth spill over her skin. She relished the feeling, the way it soaked into her, unfiltered and unobstructed. There was no need to hide here. No risk of human eyes glimpsing anything they shouldn't.

For that, she would begrudgingly give the Volturi their due. The high walls encircling the castle and its vast grounds allowed those inside to move freely without fear of exposure. But really, the entire castle was incredible, and she had loved every minute of the past week helping with the preparations for the upcoming gathering.

Leaning against the stone railing, she let her fingers trail lazily over its smooth surface, her eyes drinking in the view.

Yes, she could get used to this.

The reason she and Jean Paul had come to Volterra—the future leadership of their kind—didn't particularly interest her. Politics had never been her thing. What did interest her, however, was the sheer number of vampires arriving at the castle. She was having far too much fun meeting them all.

Renée had always been a people person, and in her relatively short time as a vampire, she had met a fair number of their kind. But nothing compared to the past few days. It was exhilarating—so many new faces, so many different stories, all gathered in one place. She had volunteered to help greet the arrivals, making sure they were settled into the castle before the gathering officially began. It was the perfect excuse to mingle, to make connections with vampires from across the world—some she might not have encountered for centuries, if ever.

Fortunately, the castle was enormous, its endless halls lined with empty rooms more than capable of housing the influx. She and Jean Paul had been quick to claim one of the better suites, which, according to Jean Paul, had once belonged to Demetri and some skank named Heidi.

Bella had told her about this Demetri, and from everything she had heard, it sounded like he had gotten exactly what was coming to him.

She had wasted no time throwing out most of his belongings. Some of the things she had come across had been... alarming. The man had been an absolute freak, and not in the fun way. His collection of "personal items" ranged from unsettling to downright perverse, and she didn't even want to think about the things she had found under his bed. Luckily, she always wore her long white gloves these days, so she hadn't been forced to make direct contact with any of it. Even so, she had still shuddered, thinking about some of the more disturbing objects she had tossed straight into the trash bin.

That first night in their temporary home, Jean Paul had filled her in on his interactions with Demetri and Heidi, recounting their centuries of debauchery and cruelty—none of which had been particularly surprising, considering they had worked for the Volturi. Heidi, it seemed, had been every bit as vile as she was stunning. Demetri had even been kind enough to leave behind several rather explicit photo albums of her, casually left out in the open for anyone to stumble upon and peruse. Renée could only hope that Heidi had met the same fate as Demetri at her daughter's hands.

But she did have to admit—Heidi had impeccable taste when it came to fashion. By sheer luck, they were the same size, and Renée had taken full advantage of that little coincidence. Some of the most exclusive Italian designers had passed through Heidi's hands, and there was no way she was letting such beautifully crafted pieces go to waste.

It would have been a crime to throw them away.

And she was no criminal.

Looking out over the sprawling garden, Renée could see clusters of vampires scattered across the grounds, deep in conversation. Some spoke in hushed tones, while others were more animated, their laughter occasionally drifting up to her lofty position. But it was the pair far in the distance that caught her attention.

Stefan and Vladimir.

Their heads were close together, and if she had to guess, they were most likely murmuring in that conspiratorial way she had seen them do for the last few days. Two relics of the past, scheming their way into the future.

She shook her head, frowning to herself. Her introduction to them had been... memorable, but not in a positive way. She had privately dubbed them Drac 1 and Drac 2 the moment they had slithered up to her, all thin smiles and calculated charm. While most of the vampires she had met over the past few days had been interesting, and enjoyable to speak with, those two always set her instincts on edge. If she had to put money on it, she'd wager they were plotting—probably trying to claw their way onto the new ruling council.

Good luck with that.

She hadn't heard a single vampire say anything remotely positive about them. And with the council being decided by a popular vote, their odds weren't looking great.

How those two had ever been rulers before the Volturi was beyond her. But according to the stories, that had been the case—over three thousand years ago. That alone made her wonder just how ancient they really were. But it wasn't just their age that unsettled her. There was something off about them, something lurking beneath the surface—an eerie, creeping wrongness that made her skin prickle whenever they were near.

Keeping her distance had seemed like the smart play from the start.

Unfortunately, they hadn't taken the hint.

The moment they learned she was Starshield's mother, their efforts to ingratiate themselves had only intensified. They laid it on thick, all empty flattery and over-polished charm, as if she held some kind of influence over her daughter's decisions.

Well... she probably did.

But that was beside the point.

Whatever they thought they'd gain by talking to her, it was having the opposite effect.

Breaking her gaze from the fearsome twosome, Renée let her eyes drift down to the nearest koi fountain. The massive fish moved lazily beneath the surface, their shimmering scales catching the sunlight, but it wasn't them that held her attention. Amun and Kebi stood beside the fountain, engaged in quiet conversation.

She had taken an immediate liking to Kebi—graceful, soft-spoken, and far more approachable than her husband. Amun, however, was another story. He had a commanding presence, bordering on overbearing, and seemed to hold an iron grip over his wife. She suspected it had more to do with the era they came from than any true malice, but still, it grated on her.

Still, she smiled and waved toward Kebi, who, to her pleasure, returned the gesture. Amun, however, glanced up before stiffly turning away.

Renée blinked, momentarily startled by the blatant snub. Amun had never been rude to her before—not in the handful of times they'd spoken. Had she somehow offended him? Her brows knit together in mild confusion until her gaze dropped downward.

Oh.

A slow, wicked grin curled at the corners of her lips. She was still completely naked.

Chuckling to herself, she pivoted on her heel and strolled back inside, utterly unbothered. Amun could clutch his pearls all he wanted—she wasn't about to apologize for looking this good. If anything, he should be thanking her for the view.

Immortality had come with many perks, but her body? Easily one of the best. She had always been in great shape, but she hadn't been blind—she knew things had started to sag in those final years of her human life.

Not anymore.

Vampirism had erased every imperfection, restoring her to a version of herself she had barely dared to dream of.

Not a bad trade-off. Not bad at all.

Back in the bedroom, Renée knew she should start getting ready for the day. More attendees would be arriving, and she was eager to see who she'd meet next.

Still, her thoughts lingered on the one person she wanted to see but knew wouldn't be coming. She had hoped Bella might change her mind and bring Edward with her, but her daughter had been firm—she had no interest in attending. And judging by the way Bella spoke these days whenever they talked, it wasn't hard to understand why.

That girl had it bad for Edward.

And honestly? Renée couldn't blame her one bit. Good lord, that man was hot. If she had been in Bella's position, she wouldn't have let him out of her sight either.

A satisfied smile tugged at her lips as she thought about the way Bella gushed over him, the softness in her voice when she spoke about how wonderful he was. Finally. Finally, Bella had found someone.

How Bella had managed to hold out for so long, waiting for Mr. Right, was beyond her. She would have lost her mind without a man to keep her satiated. But Bella had always been a little... odd when it came to relationships—especially with the opposite sex.

At least now, she was finally on the right track.

What Renée really hoped for—what would make the gathering perfect—was if Bella's friend Alice made an appearance.

The mere thought of meeting a real, live psychic had her nearly vibrating with excitement. Vampire abilities were always fascinating, but Alice's gift? That was something different—something mystical. The gift of foresight wasn't just another power; it was in a league all on its own.

She had spent much of the past few days witnessing new and unusual abilities—some more impressive than others. Power-wise, no one seemed to hold a candle to her daughter, but that didn't mean she hadn't witnessed some incredible things.

One of the most jaw-dropping moments had been when she met the Amazon coven.

After showing Zafrina, Kachiri, and Senna to their suite, the dark-skinned leader had offered a demonstration of her power. Renée had barely nodded before the world around her shifted.

One moment, she had been standing in the castle. The next, she was deep in the Amazon rainforest.

Sunlight slanted through a dense canopy of green, illuminating the sprawling jungle in shifting patterns of gold and shadow. Vines draped over towering trees, their leaves so vivid they looked almost wet. Brightly colored birds perched on gnarled branches, their wings catching the light as if mid-flutter. The river winding through the undergrowth gleamed like polished glass, reflecting the sky above in impossible clarity.

Renée had turned slowly, taking it all in. The details were flawless. Every leaf, every ripple in the water, every shift in light and shadow as if nature itself had been frozen in time.

Her fingers had brushed against a tree trunk, expecting rough bark beneath her fingertips—only to feel nothing but the empty air of the castle room. Her breath had caught. It was so perfect, so immersive, that her brain had struggled to reconcile the truth.

And just as suddenly as it had begun, it was gone.

The lush jungle vanished, and the cool, stone walls of the castle reappeared around her.

Renée had let out a low whistle, impressed beyond words. "That," she had said, grinning, "was insane."

Wanting to return the favor, she had offered to show off her own ability, but after learning what it was, the three Amazonian women had exchanged looks before politely declining.

Fully dressed, Renée stepped back from the full-length mirror, taking in her reflection with satisfaction. She looked perfect. The stylish blue pants hugged her figure just right, and the matching blouse draped elegantly over her frame. Spinning in place, she did a full turn, watching the fabric move with her.

Not bad.

Jean Paul had mentioned he'd be in the throne room. With one final nod at her composed reflection, she turned on her heel and headed for the door.


Stepping out of her room, Renée smiled at the sight of the beautiful fresco on the wall opposite her. The truth was, every open space, every long hallway was a gallery in its own right, lined with art so exquisite it would make any museum curator weep. Whatever else could be said about the Volturi, their taste had been impeccable.

She and Jean Paul had spent much of their free time wandering the castle, admiring the pieces on display. Jean Paul, with his vast knowledge, had been able to provide fascinating details about nearly every work they came across—even discovering new insights as they examined them together. It reminded her of their first day together, when he had led her and Bella through the Louvre, his voice filled with passion as he brought history to life with every story.

Their discussions had since evolved into something more ambitious. The idea had come up to loan some of the castle's collection to museums around the world. Art like this wasn't meant to be hidden away; it was meant to be seen, to be experienced. It would be a crime to let such masterpieces remain locked behind these walls.

Of course, the decision wasn't theirs to make. The collection belonged to no one at the moment, and with new leadership soon to be elected, its fate would rest in their hands. She and Jean Paul planned to bring it up when the time was right—after all, what better way could the new leaders mark the beginning of their reign than by opening the collection—and its beauty—to the world?

The challenge, however, was explaining how long-lost works by da Vinci or Michelangelo had suddenly resurfaced. The Volturi hadn't just collected art; they had commissioned pieces from the greatest masters themselves. Dropping multiple previously unseen works into the world without raising eyebrows wouldn't be easy.

Jean Paul had some ideas, though.

And if there was one thing she had learned about him, it was that he had a way of making the impossible sound entirely doable.


Moving through the castle halls with ease, Renée's heels clicked lightly against the polished stone, her stride unhurried and effortless. Shoulders back, head high, she took it all in—the towering archways, the centuries-old paintings, the lingering scent of old parchment and polished wood. The castle might have been a relic of the past, but today, it was alive in a way she doubted it had been in centuries.

Vampires filled the corridors, their conversations a steady hum in the background. Most were still strangers, but that wouldn't be the case for long—not if she had anything to say about it.

"Morning, Renée," Erik greeted as they passed each other, his accent carrying the smooth cadence of his Scandinavian roots.

She flashed him a grin. "Morning, handsome."

A chuckle rumbled from his chest as she continued on, her stride unbroken.

A few steps later, she spotted a pair of women leaning against a carved stone column, their hushed conversation pausing as she approached. One was striking, with deep brown skin and close-cropped hair, the other smaller, her dark red eyes sharp with curiosity.

"Ladies," Renée greeted smoothly, giving them both a once-over. "Getting into trouble?"

The taller one smirked. "Not yet."

"Give it time," the other murmured, amusement flickering across her face.

Renée winked before continuing on, feeling their gazes linger as she passed.

Further down the hall, a large, dark-haired vampire with angular features lifted his chin in greeting.

"Renée."

She nodded back. "You settling in alright?"

"Getting there." His gaze flicked toward the castle walls, still taking in his surroundings.

"If you haven't seen it yet, you might want to check out the arena behind the castle," she suggested, giving him an appraising look. At easily 6'5" and built like a brawler, he seemed like the type who would enjoy a little competition.

A hint of curiosity sparked in his expression. "That so?"

She winked. "Go see for yourself."

As she walked on, the energy in the castle became undeniable. It wasn't just that the Volturi were gone—it was the understanding that they weren't coming back.

Vampires had arrived from all corners of the world knowing what had happened, but hearing and truly believing were different things. Now, as they stood within these ancient walls, as they saw firsthand the absence of cloaked figures lurking in the shadows, the weight of the past was finally lifting.

Renée saw it in their eyes, in their relaxed postures, in the way conversations carried a lightness that must have been impossible under the old regime.

In the last of the long corridors leading to the throne room, she spotted Drusus, the Roman vampire she had met earlier in the week. He was leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, scanning the hall with a quiet intensity. When his gaze landed on her, he inclined his head.

"Renée."

She grinned, slowing her step slightly. "Drusus. Don't look so serious—you'll scare off all the new arrivals."

His mouth twitched at the corner, the closest thing to a smile she had seen from him yet. "They should be scared."

She rolled her eyes. "You sound like an old war general."

"I was."

That earned a laugh. "Of course you were."

With a parting glance, she continued on, the steady rhythm of her steps carrying her toward the throne room.

She had felt it throughout her walk—the shift in the air, the quiet hum of anticipation woven into every conversation, every glance exchanged between vampires who, for the first time in centuries, were looking toward the future instead of over their shoulders.

And as she moved forward, head high, smile bright, she felt it too.

Hope.


Walking into the throne room, Renée's gaze immediately landed on Jean Paul, deep in conversation with Siobhan. Thankfully, her relationship with the Irish vampire had improved considerably over the past few days—though it had taken some effort to smooth things over after the unfortunate incident in Paris.

Siobhan cut an imposing figure, tall and broad-shouldered with the effortless confidence of someone who had seen more than most. Her striking red hair, thick and wavy, tumbled over her shoulders, a deep auburn that caught the light with every movement. High cheekbones and a strong, defined jawline gave her a regal air, softened only slightly by the sharp glint of amusement that often danced in her dark crimson eyes. There was something undeniably commanding about her presence—like a queen without a throne, or a warrior who had never quite let go of the battlefield.

Glancing around, Renée took in how much the throne room had changed since their arrival earlier in the week. No longer did it radiate the suffocating dread that must have gripped anyone who entered when the Volturi had ruled from their cold, towering seats of power. The massive, ornate dais was gone, along with the three golden thrones once used to cast judgment over their kind. In their place, the chamber felt… open. Not warm—no vampire could make this cavernous space warm—but no longer oppressive.

The plan was to use the throne room for official functions, such as the upcoming elections. The actual business of governing would no longer be about pomp and spectacle, no more ruling through fear and hollow displays of power. At least, that was the hope.

Spotting an opportunity, Renée gave a small wave toward Siobhan, who returned it with the barest flicker of a smile but otherwise didn't react. Jean Paul, of course, had to know she was approaching—he would have caught her scent the moment she stepped into the room—but he played along, as he always did, indulging her enjoyment of sneaking up on him.

Reaching him, she wrapped her arms around his waist, lifting herself onto her toes to press a kiss against his neck.

"Howdy, stranger."

Renée's voice was a low whisper against his ear, her breath warm as her fingers trailed across his stomach.

Jean Paul smiled, the tension he hadn't realized he was holding easing the moment she pressed against him. Having her close again always settled something in him. He turned in her arms, slipping his own around her waist as he met her gaze, his lips already curving.

She was radiant, eyes bright with amusement, her expression alive with mischief. He loved that look on her.

Tilting his head, he brushed a lingering kiss against her lips before pulling back just enough to speak. "How was your night? I'm sorry I couldn't get away, but there are still so many things that need to be determined."

Renée smirked. "No worries. I met two vampires from the Philippines last night, and after getting them settled, we did a little exploring. They'd never been to Volterra either, and they were both over three hundred years old."

She poked him in the chest, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Hey, how come you never told me about the giant-ass pool on the lower levels? We had to find it by chance. There were already some others there, and we ended up turning the night into a pool party."

Jean Paul arched a brow, his grin widening at the sheer delight in her expression. "Well, if you can believe it, I didn't know there was a pool either. The last time I was here was in the late 1800s, and thankfully, Aro never invited me to go swimming with him."

He shuddered at the thought, making a face as if to shake off the mental image.

Renée burst into laughter, tilting her head back. "Aro in a speedo. Ugh. Thanks for the visual."

Forgiving Jean Paul for his lack of knowledge was easy. How anyone could ever hold a grudge against such a handsome, charming man was beyond her.

Renée reached for his hand, her fingers lacing effortlessly between his as she swung their joined hands lightly. Her gaze swept the grand room, taking in the quiet conversations along the edges, noting who was around. Turning her attention to the striking Irish vampire beside them, she tilted her head up.

"Hey, Siobhan, where are Liam and Maggie today?"

Usually, Liam had been glued to Siobhan's side, an ever-present shadow with an irritating habit of watching her like she might lunge at his wife at any moment. How many times did she have to tell the guy she was sorry? Siobhan had clearly moved on.

Siobhan's lips curved, amusement flickering in her deep ruby eyes. "Liam's around here somewhere, and Maggie met a Russian vampire who she seems to have taken a liking to. They took off in one of the Volturi's vans and are out collecting fresh refreshments for the gathering."

Her gaze flicked toward the vast doors leading deeper into the castle before she added, "Keeping the castle fed with this many here is going to be much harder than when the Volturi were in charge. Now that we've decided to only go after certain types of humans, it won't be the endless buffet it once was."

She shrugged, her expression caught somewhere between wry amusement and distaste. "Did you know, at one party in the 1700s, they had actual blood fountains? You could just fill your glass and keep drinking to your heart's content."

Renée's brows lifted. "You're kidding."

Siobhan's tongue flicked out to wet her lips, her gaze distant, as if tasting the memory. "Not in the slightest." Her smile turned more thoughtful. "I never wanted to think about how many humans had to die to make that night possible... but I have to admit, it was quite the experience."

Renée turned to Jean Paul, curious for his thoughts, only to catch the distant look on his face, his smile turning nostalgic as if reliving some long-lost memory.

"I remember that party," he murmured. "Those fountains were quite the hit." His gaze lifted to Siobhan, amusement flickering in his expression. "If I'm not mistaken, that was the first time you introduced everyone to Liam."

Renée could only shake her head. Like always, she chose to make a joke out of the more fucked-up vampire stories she heard.

"Oh, how will we ever get by now that I know how we could be living it up?" She winked, making Jean Paul grin.

As he and Siobhan continued their discussion, Renée thought about how surreal her life had become. It wasn't like she was some kind of vampire saint. She killed just as many humans as the next vampire, draining them dry without a second thought, indulging in all the euphoria that came with it. But hearing about the depths of the Volturi's depravities still had a way of getting under her skin.

Blood fountains...

Of course, the Volturi would have fucking blood fountains. It was just another notch on their endless scorecard of obscene, hedonistic cruelty. She shouldn't be surprised. The atrocities they had committed were so numerous she doubted anyone could tally them all. And their thirst for power? That had been even more insatiable than their thirst for blood. They hadn't just ruled through fear—they had feasted on it.

And yet, the sick thing was that the longer she thought about their excesses, the hungrier she got.

Her throat burned. That sharp, sweet ache that never fully went away. She could practically taste it—thick and rich, poured into an elegant crystal goblet, deep red swirling under the flickering glow of candlelit chandeliers and gilded candelabra.

Jesus.

If Jean Paul had any idea what was currently running through her head... well, he might just drag her off to some dark corner of the castle right now and have his way with her. Hmm. Maybe she should tell him... in slow, explicit detail.

She shook her head, exhaling slowly, trying to temper the heat spreading through her limbs. Sometimes, Jean Paul didn't even have to do anything to get her worked up—maybe it was the idea of him drinking blood from a glass, his lips stained red, and she could just lean in and lick them clean...

Recently, they had started combining their mealtime with their fun time, and now the two went hand in hand. When she thought of one, she thought of the other. Feeding and fucking. Pleasure and indulgence. And when blood was involved, everything was just more—more raw, more desperate, more consuming.

But in the castle, with so many eyes around, those types of indulgences weren't an option.

A shame, really.

Forcing herself to refocus before she completely lost control, she shifted her thoughts to the Volturi and the more outlandish stories she had heard about them over the past week. Some of them sounded too ridiculous to be real.

Like the whole busloads of tourists thing.

Seriously?

She didn't care how many people claimed it was true—there was just no way they had been herding entire buses of humans into the castle and draining them dry in some blood-fueled orgy on a regular basis. That level of stupidity would have made the news. Someone would have noticed if dozens of tourists mysteriously vanished every damn week.

Then again, with the kinds of horrors the Volturi had been responsible for... maybe it wasn't so far-fetched.

Maybe they had been that arrogant. That reckless.

But that was the past.

Atrocities like that were done. Over. Gone. Never to return.

At least, they better be.

The sudden vibration in her pocket snapped her out of the deliciously inappropriate tangent her mind had wandered down. With a quick sigh, she pulled out her phone, glancing at the screen and seeing a new text.

Looked like duty was calling sooner than expected.

A slow smile curled her lips as she slipped the phone back into her pocket, shifting closer to Jean Paul. She tightened her arms around him, pressing into his warmth just a little more, breathing in his scent before she had to leave again.

"I just got word—two vampires from New Zealand will be arriving soon. Looks like I'm on greeting duty again," she murmured against his chest.

Jean Paul exhaled softly, brushing his fingers along the curve of her back before she pulled away. "You do make an excellent host."

She grinned. "Of course I do."

Tilting her head up, she gave him a playful smirk. "But later today, let's carve out some time for just us. Maybe we can visit that pool together."

A glint of amusement flickered in his gaze as he rebutted with a perfectly straight face. "But I didn't bring my bathing suit, dear."

Renée chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, that settles it then." She gave his chest a teasing push, her grin widening. "You and I are having a pool date. I can't wait."

She waggled her eyebrows, earning a deep, rich laugh that sent a thrill down her spine.

As Renée nodded to Siobhan and turned to leave, a clearing of the throat stopped her in her tracks.

"New Zealand, you say?" Curiosity laced Siobhan's voice. "They wouldn't happen to be Séamus and Caitlín, would they?"

Renée's lips curled into a smile. "Why, as a matter of fact, they are. I take it you know them?"

Siobhan grinned, a touch of nostalgia softening her sharp features. "Aye. They used to live in Ireland. But I haven't seen them in over a century—not since they left to explore the world. They wrote years later, saying they'd decided to settle in New Zealand."

Renée always loved hearing stories like this. The way vampires could go centuries without seeing each other, only to pick up right where they left off, was something she still wasn't used to. It fascinated her—this idea that even after lifetimes apart, old friends could reunite like no time had passed at all. It gave her hope that, centuries from now, she'd have her own reunions with friends she hadn't even met yet.

"Well, come on then." Her grin widened. "Let's go greet them together."

Siobhan nodded, falling into step beside her as they headed toward the reception hall that connected to several expansive garages beneath the castle. Their footsteps echoed through the ancient stone corridors, the cool air of the castle a contrast to the warmth of their conversation.

As they walked, Renée cast a sidelong glance at Siobhan. Now that they'd gotten to know each other better, she had discovered the taller woman had a sharp wit beneath her commanding presence. She was also, surprisingly, an excellent source of gossip—when she was relaxed enough to indulge in a little girl talk.

"So," Renée mused, her tone teasing, "you say Maggie's found someone. Do you think it might be serious?"

Siobhan gave a small shrug, shaking her head. "No, not really. I think it's more that they're both looking for a bit of companionship. Maggie was actually a bit nervous about coming to Volterra—worried she might run into her ex."

Renée's brows lifted. "Oh?"

"They were together for over fifty years," Siobhan explained. "Then one day, he found his true other. He and Maggie separated immediately—on good terms, of course—but that doesn't mean it wasn't hard on her. Last I heard, he was happily married now."

Renée winced. "Oof. That's rough. Well, if she's looking to meet someone new, this gathering's the place to be. I imagine a lot of vampires will be meeting people they'd never have run into otherwise."

Siobhan let out a soft laugh. "That's exactly what I told her. You don't know how lucky you were, finding Jean Paul so quickly—and as a human, no less. That sort of thing almost never happens."

Renée smirked. "Guess I'm just lucky."

Siobhan rolled her eyes but grinned. "Maybe you've a bit of Irish blood in you." She gave Renée a light nudge with her elbow, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Regardless of your luck, trust me, it's rare. There's only so many of us, and when you factor in the prospect of immortality, well… let's just say most would rather have a bit of fun than spend eternity alone. You'd be surprised how many of our kind have gotten together over the centuries, even knowing it wouldn't lead anywhere."

Renée laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, trust me, I know that feeling all too well. After Charlie and I split, I must have had a new boyfriend every other month. Some I actually liked, but most? Well, let's just say they served their purpose."

She wiggled her eyebrows conspiratorially. "You get the idea."

Siobhan chuckled knowingly. "Aye, I do."

A thought struck Renée then, and before she could think better of it, the words were already leaving her mouth. "Siobhan… were you and Jean Paul ever a thing?"

She turned to look at her new friend and caught what could only be described as the briefest flicker of guilt in Siobhan's expression.

Oh-ho. Interesting.

"You can tell me the truth," Renée assured her, grinning. "I wouldn't hold a grudge if you were. Jean Paul's a real stud—I mean, look at him."

Siobhan hesitated, weighing what to say. Some vampires could be ridiculously possessive over their mates, and the last thing she wanted was to rile Renée up needlessly. But she always prided herself on being a good judge of character, and with the amount of innocent flirting Renée did with just about every vampire she met, jealousy didn't seem like her style.

Finally, she sighed, her smile a touch guarded. "Alright, if you must know… we did have a little fling. Back in the 1300s."

Renée's brows shot up. "Oh really…"

With a shrug, Siobhan gave a wry, half-apologetic smile. "We were only together for a few months, nothing more. It was… fun while it lasted, but it truly didn't mean anything." She added the last part quickly, hoping to head off any potential tension.

Seeing Siobhan's hesitation, Renée laughed, shaking her head. "Siobhan, relax. I'm not about to go nuclear because my husband had a good time eight hundred years before I was even born." She rolled her eyes playfully. "I think I can forgive you both for daring to have a life."

Still grinning, she let her mind wander for a moment, picturing Jean Paul as he would have been back then—centuries before she had ever come into the picture. The concept of immortality made sense to her on a surface level, but actually grasping the reality of it? That was another thing entirely.

A new thought popped into Renée's mind, and before she could stop herself, a giggle slipped free.

Siobhan arched a brow, curiosity sparking in her crimson gaze. "What's so funny?"

Renée shook her head, still grinning as she cleared her throat. "Okay, now that the truth is out there—did Jean Paul's nose still flare when he climaxed back in—what was it—the Stone Age? Because I swear, I can see some color in it sometimes when I really get him going."

Siobhan's smile widened as Renée leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Sometimes when his nose really starts to tint, I like to call him Rudolph."

That did it. Laughter burst from Siobhan, full and unrestrained, her attempt to stifle it a complete failure. Finally, still catching her breath, she gave a nod. "I like you, Renée. It's been far too long since I've met a woman with a proper sense of humor. You remind me of my human sister Aisling—she was a firecracker too."

Thinking back to her time with Jean Paul, she slowly nodded as long-forgotten memories resurfaced. "And yes—as a matter of fact, I do remember his nose getting a bit of color on a few special occasions."

Her amusement deepened, her gaze drifting off into the past as a slow, knowing smile crept across her lips. "There was this one time…" She exhaled a soft chuckle. "In the stables of Jean Paul's home, on a pile of hay, of all places."

Siobhan's expression shifted into something equal parts exasperated and amused. "It wasn't our finest hour, I'll tell you that much. You have to understand—clothes back then weren't exactly designed to come off quickly." She gestured vaguely at her torso. "Layers. So many bloody layers. Laces, buttons, hooks—more hassle than any decent romp in the hay should ever require."

She paused, savoring the ridiculousness of it before continuing. "We thought we could manage without undressing fully."

Renée's smirk sharpened. "Let me guess—it didn't go well? What a shame..."

Siobhan huffed a laugh, tipping her head in acknowledgment. "Alright, fair enough. We were a disaster by the end of it. And when we finally collapsed, our clothes ruined, we were both covered head to toe in straw. I remember looking over at him…" Her grin sharpened. "And you're right—his nose was positively inflamed."

Renée giggled. "Hey, at least he's consistent."

Siobhan smirked. "Of course, now every time I see him—and his nose—all I'll be able to do is think Rudolph. So... thanks for that."

Hearing Siobhan's sordid tale about her and Jean Paul sent Renée's mind spinning in a whole new direction. She loved adding little twists to spice up their lovemaking, but somehow, she and Jean Paul had never ventured into historical fashion for a bit of playful roleplaying. The idea had a certain appeal—especially now that her mind was swapping out Siobhan for herself in that hay-filled stable.

Her fingers drifted unconsciously to Siobhan's arm, her smile turning sly. "You know, you've given me some ideas. What exactly were the clothes like back in…"

A sharp voice cut through the air. "Siobhan!"

Renée's head whipped toward the sound, catching sight of Liam closing the distance fast, his expression tight with agitation. She had no idea what had set him off—maybe he'd overheard Siobhan's confession about her fling with Jean Paul…

"Hello, Liam." Renée's voice came out quick and light, hoping to head off whatever tension had just come storming their way.

When his gaze swung toward her, she was caught off guard by the anger simmering behind his eyes—anger directed squarely at her. What the hell? What had she done this time? She was wearing her gloves. There was no chance of a repeat performance of what happened in Paris.

"Come, Siobhan. Garrett needs to speak with you." His tone was clipped, all business, as he stepped smoothly between them, creating a deliberate barrier.

Siobhan exhaled sharply, her irritation flashing clear as she gave Renée the smallest shake of her head—a silent plea not to make a scene. "Alright," she said, her voice deliberately even. "Renée, do me a favor—when Séamus and Caitlín arrive, tell them I can't wait to catch up. And Liam's looking forward to seeing them too… aren't you, Liam?"

Liam's jaw shifted, tension flickering across his face before he nodded stiffly. "Yes… Yes, of course." His eyes flicked back to Renée. "Good day, Renée."

Without waiting for a response, he took Siobhan's elbow, steering her down the corridor. Siobhan cast one quick glance over her shoulder, offering a half-hearted shrug before letting herself be led away.

Renée shook her head, letting out a soft huff of annoyance. Clearly, Liam wasn't the forgiving type. "Sorry again!" she called out, loud enough to carry down the hall—though she doubted it would make much of a difference, nor was she really very sorry.

Turning on a dime, she headed toward the reception hall, her heels tapping lightly against the stone floor as she went. If she had to guess, the real reason Liam had a stick up his butt was because, in all their gigillion years of marriage, he'd never once made Siobhan scream like she'd made her. And good lord, could that woman scream. She had a set of lungs on her that could probably wake the dead.

And now, it seems her husband had heard those screams before…

Renée smiled to herself, already filing that little gem away. It was the perfect teasing material to pull out at just the right moment.


I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Seeing Renée in her element is just setting the stage so you can get a feel for what's happening right before the gathering begins. In the next chapter, you'll be happy to know that not only are Bella and Edward arriving, but the entire Whitlock clan will be joining them. The fun is just getting started.

I'd love to hear your feedback or comments.