Chapter 268: The Feast - II
To break the awkward silence, Cillian spoke up in a cheerful tone. "My, looks like we arrived right after everyone’s self-restraint left the room." He settled comfortably into his chair and added with a light chuckle, "Though I can’t blame anyone. The spread looks so delicious that even I wouldn’t be able to control myself."
Gavriel simply gave Cillian a blank stare. Meanwhile, Aliana, Jade, and Andrew all turned their heads toward him at the exact same time, their eyes twitching in unison.
Vance sat back down, letting out a low laugh. "Forgive our bad manners. The guests were getting a little... impatient. So we decided to start while waiting for the rest of our group, Mr. Pierce."
"Hmm. I assure you, we didn’t miss much, it seems," Cillian replied, flashing his signature dazzling smile, and Vance returned it with a chilling one of his own.
Just then, the servers stepped forward and started piling food onto their plates one by one.
The more meat loaded onto their plates, the more nausea hit Aliana, Jade, and Andrew.
Gavriel and Cillian, on the other hand, watched the food with mild curiosity.
Neither of them had ever eaten human meat before, but as demons, they viewed the whole situation less like a nightmare and more like a questionable buffet choice.
Once the servers had finished, Vance raised his glass in a welcoming gesture. "Please, enjoy the meal."
"Oh, we certainly will," Cillian replied enthusiastically. Picking up his cutlery, he prodded the meat on his plate with obvious interest.
Meanwhile, the other four reluctantly picked up their own forks under the watchful gaze of dozens of eyes. They knew every cult member was waiting, watching like hawks for them to finally take a bite.
Slowly, one by one, they raised their forks towards the food, desperately trying not to gag while keeping their trembling hands steady. Sweat trickled down their spines.
As the silence stretched uncomfortably long under their agonisingly slow movements, the loud clatter of cutlery hitting a plate startled Aliana, Jade, and Andrew.
Every eye snapped to Cillian, who dramatically set down his fork and let out a long sigh.
"Mr. Prescott, I simply have to ask..." He looked down at the meat with a thoughtful frown. "What exactly is it that I’m about to eat?"
At his question, the entire room turned dead silent, as if he had spoken something forbidden.
Vance stared at Cillian, his lips curling into a chilling smile. "It’s red meat, Mr. Pierce. Why do you ask?"
"You see, I am tragically allergic to certain meats," Cillian replied, meeting the man’s gaze with a completely straight face. "So I really must know the exact origin."
Vance’s smile never faltered, though his dark eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
"Deer," he answered smoothly, his voice echoing in the quiet hall. "It’s venison from our private hunting grounds. We take immense pride in serving only the finest quality to our guests."
His unsettling gaze lingered on Cillian with unspoken scrutiny. "I do hope that eases your concerns."
"It certainly does." Cillian flashed a bright, untroubled smile. "I’d hate to collapse before dessert."
A few cult members scattered around the table chuckled softly at the remark.
With exaggerated care, Cillian speared a thick piece of meat and began lifting it toward his mouth. Every pair of eyes in the room locked onto the slow movement, waiting for the trap to spring.
Just as the meat hovered inches from his lips, Aliana’s mind raced. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she scanned the table for anything to break their focus.
Spotting her opening, quickly asked, "Come to think of it... where’s Cedric? I haven’t seen him since earlier."
The sudden question did its job. Several cult members instinctively turned their heads toward her, their focus snapping away from Cillian.
In that split second, his wrist flicked beneath the edge of the table, and the piece of meat vanished below.
Almost as though they had rehearsed it beforehand, Jade and Andrew quietly followed suit, letting their own portions disappear beneath the tablecloth before anyone noticed.
Beside Aliana, Gwen offered a dismissive little smile, her fingers casually twirling a strand of hair. "Oh, Cedric wasn’t feeling well. He’s resting in his room."
"Oh, I do hope he is alright," Aliana said, tilting her head with a look of pure innocence. "It is his wedding tomorrow, after all."
Gwen’s smile stiffened for a fraction of a second before recovering its smooth mask. "People fall ill unexpectedly. He’ll be fine by morning."
"I wonder what could be the reason. Maybe it was the food," Aliana mused aloud, her eyes dropping meaningfully to her plate.
At the mere suggestion, the temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Every cult member at the table froze, their gazes snapping directly toward Aliana’s untouched meal.
Gwen let out a light, melodic chuckle, brushing off the tension with a wave of her hand. "He simply had a bit too much to drink. I assure you, the food has nothing to do with it."
Her gaze drifted lazily away from Aliana and settled on Gavriel. Her eyes lingered shamelessly on his sharp features, and a pleased smirk spread across her lips as she took him in.
"You haven’t touched your plate either," Gwen observed, resting her chin in her hand as she checked him out openly. "You really should eat, Mr. Valentine. I’d hate for such a handsome man to go hungry."
The sweet, sultry tone in her voice made Aliana’s expression darken by several degrees.
"My husband doesn’t need your reminding," Aliana replied in a cold voice.
Gwen glanced over with a soft, mocking laugh. "Oh? I was only trying to be polite. I am the host, after all. You really ought to eat as well, Aliana."
Aliana offered her a venomous smile, her eyes locking onto Gwen’s with deadly intent.
"It’s Mrs. Valentine to you," Aliana corrected softly, leaning forward just an inch. "Only those who are actually close to me get to use my first name. Surely a gracious host knows basic manners?"
A suffocating silence stretched between the two women to a dangerous breaking point.
Before another venomous word could be traded and blow up their cover too soon, Gavriel calmly moved up his silver fork. "I appreciate the concern." His voice was devoid of a single drop of warmth or encouragement.
Yet Gwen’s eyes sparkled with unnatural delight at the mere sound of him addressing her. She leaned forward in breathless anticipation, her eyes fixed on his lips as he raised the dark meat toward his mouth.
Beside him, Aliana forced herself to match his movement. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest, requiring a herculean effort just to lift the fork without her hands trembling violently.
Just as the food hovered millimetres from their lips, the double doors flew open, shattering the delicate tension in the room.
A breathless guard rushed inside, hurrying straight to Vance.
He leaned down and whispered frantically into his ear, "Mr. Vance. We have a problem outside that needs your immediate attention."
For the first time that evening, genuine concern flickered across Vance’s face.
He stood up at once, sweeping his gaze across the long table. "My apologies, everyone." He offered them a strained smile. "I will return shortly. Please, continue enjoying your meal."