The darkness in my chest rose up—like bile in my throat.
“Don’t touch me!” I commanded in a hoarse, broken cry. You would think that it wouldn’t have taken three months for me to find my voice. My fight. But it did, and it seems that it happened too late.
I screamed again, a guttural sound more akin to that of a wild animal.
The images of my death flashed back to me. The moment when I was overpowered. The second I died. They could not save me then, why did I think they would now?
My panic heightened to an unbearable crescendo as he reached to rip my shirt open. I moved to avoid it and he laughed harshly, making my insides begin to burn and harden, like tempered metal forged into a weapon. In my rage and desperation, something cracked inside of me, lashing out.
Dark shadows appeared over my skin. Swirling. Writhing. They latched onto his moving hands and began traveling up his arms—not even making it to his elbows before the screaming started.
With every second he hollered, I grew stronger, drawing in more to feed my darkness. To feed myself. I twisted sharply without breaking contact and grabbed the dying man by his hair. His screams had already begun to fade into the silence. He wasn’t long for this world.
I pulled myself up to a sitting position and held his head between both hands. The shadows still danced across my skin. I wondered what it would be like to crush his skull, here and now. Would he die from it? Would he even feel it? The splash of black on his lips caught my attention.
Blood. Vampire blood.
He’d bit his lip and now the scent of the sickly-sweet ichor was calling to me. I inhaled deeply but resisted the thought. A Vampire drinking a Vampire’s blood?
Was that possible? I’d never heard of it. Then again, I had only awoken three months ago, and before that, I knew nothing beyond the textbooks at Daizlei. My resolve floundered at the thought of ripping his throat out and killing him.
I did not want to be a monster, but a certain dark thrill took hold at the realization that I’d finally done what Victor wanted. I had my powers and I was stronger.
“Is-is that the b-best you’ve g-g-got?” he coughed out, black blood spraying from his lips. I stiffened as the flecks splattered my skin, calling to the hunger within.
I wasn’t a monster. I was defending myself—from when he comes back to fight another day. I was ensuring that they wouldn’t starve me and my master wouldn’t kill me. I had to make sure Victor wasn’t swayed by whatever the Vampire would tell him.
It was only self-defense.
Yes, that’s it.
I repeated it thrice in my mind.
“I’m not a monster,” I whispered—before I ripped his throat out.
His blood ran free through my fingers as I pulled the last of his essence from the body. Vampire or not—he was dead. Truly dead. My hands didn’t even shake when I stood and dumped his body on the floor, waiting for the horror of what I’d done to hit me.
But it never came.
Whatever heaviness that should have weighed on my heart died along with my morality and did not return when I drank his blood like a glutton. I guess that made us even.
The whispers in my mind applauded as I positioned myself daintily on the ornate chair in the corner of my room.
It was self-defense. I had no choice.
That’s exactly what I would tell Victor. It’s what I chose to believe.
Even if I did kill a man—and liked it.
Chapter 121
I bolted upright in bed, the thin satin sheet pooling around my waist. My breath came in hot, heavy gasps as I tried to breathe again. To breathe at all.
My burning throat cracked under the sharp inhales. The fissures were imaginary, as were the dank musk and mold clinging to the inside of my chest, but they felt real. So very real.
It wasn’t my body that was undergoing such horrors. Not my skin that was defiled. Not my thirst for blood, human or Vampire. Not my power that lashed out and drained the undead dry.
A cold settled over me like a blanket. It seeped into my flesh, and blood, and bones. A chill that could not be banished by the heat of the fire, or a warm summer air.
Because deep in those bones of mine, I wondered, and I wept.
There had to be some kind of explanation for these dreams.
Was it her ghost haunting me?
Was it my subconscious trying to punish me?
Or maybe it was something else entirely.
Something far darker that I wouldn’t dare put the name to. Couldn’t.
I pushed the sheets aside, only then noticing the empty space beside me. Aaron was gone again. His side of the bed rumpled, but cold to the touch. I wasn’t sure what to think of that. Why he was gone at this time of night.
Why he was gone when I—
I stopped myself before I finished the thought. It was an idea almost as insurmountable as the truth behind my dreams, and just like them, I wasn’t in the headspace to handle it alone in the middle of the night craving the most unholy of things.
Both Violet and my demon pressed against me, oddly comforting and reassuring. I took a long, deep breath, fully expanding my lungs with oxygen until they hurt. The muscles constricted sharply as I blew it back out and slid off the obsidian sheets.
The marble was cool against my bare feet, but not cold. The fireplace at the end of the bed kept it warm enough to ward off a chill, but not so warm it suffocated. I blew the fire out with a wave of my hand as I crossed the empty space and grabbed a sweatshirt by the door. The material on the inside was downright rough compared to the sheets, but it would keep me warm on my walk.
The living room was empty, as I expected. Not a trace of Aaron. Not a hint of smoke.
I left the apartment to wander the halls of the residence. At this hour, very few Shifters were awake. The ones that were kept to themselves, which suited me just fine.
They weren’t the reason I was lurking in the halls before the crack of dawn on shaking legs with a cold sweat dripping down my back. I took the elevator two floors down and let my feet carry me through the beige halls.
The exit was just around the corner…or not.
I came to another set of taupe walls that led down another maze-like hallway. Glancing over my shoulder, I debated the merits of backtracking and simply jumping over the balcony from the third floor, but I dismissed it. Taking an unsteady breath, I started down the unknown corridor. Surely one of these would lead outside.
Wouldn’t it?
After the fourth turn leading nowhere, I stopped and ran a hand through my sleep-knotted hair. You would think that after so many wrong turns I’d either end up where I started or have found my way outside, but no. It seemed that this place was built like a maze. The walls were all the same ugly shade of off-white, not quite brown or grey. The trim was dark mahogany, polished to perfection without a speck of dust in site.
If it weren’t for my sense of smell I might have gotten confused and assumed I had already gone this way, but the orange and freesia was new. I followed the scents down a long corridor to a pair of cracked walnut double doors.
I lifted my hand to the hardwood and tapped the door open another six inches, stepping through without a sound. My breath caught in my throat at what I saw.
Bookshelves lined every inch of the circular room, climbing straight to the ceiling over twenty feet above. A ceiling made of stained glass that swirled to form shapes that changed and moved. Splotches of color bled from rose red to cobalt blue with swatches of gold and evergreen in between.
I stood transfixed to the spot. This can’t be real. Could it?
That was a dangerous question for me because I often asked it when I already knew the answer.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
I dropped my head, moving my gaze from the ceiling to the man sitting in a dark red chair.
“Yes,” I agreed. “Are the shapes really changing?”
“They are,” he nodded. “Would you like to know its st
ory?”
He inclined his head forward, motioning to the second chair across from him. His dark brown hair hung lank against his sullen skin. His cheekbones were more prominent than was considered healthy, but he didn’t smell of sickness or death. He smelled like oranges and freesia.
I could have left it at that and backed out of the door without a second thought. Run off to find a quiet place outside where I could talk to the rising sun and get lost in old memories that were better left alone. Pray to some ancient that never gave a damn while I deconstructed my nightmare a thousand times over until I convinced myself that the impossible was possible. That she was alive. Changed.
But my nightmares were just that.
Fiction created by my own psyche.
Fears generated by grief and a deep-seated hatred of the creatures that killed her.
False visions from a dead girl I killed.
The old Selena would have walked away to wallow in self-pity, but I couldn’t be that girl anymore. Just as I couldn’t be the unfeeling wretch I was after she died, but instead, the girl I saw on the horizon.
I tilted my head forward knowing the moment of silence had already swung past a polite pause and was soaring to downright awkward. Still, I took a seat across from him and rested my shaking hands on my lap where he couldn’t see them beneath the small circular table.
“So, what’s the story?” I asked, looking back to the stained glass masterpiece.
“Well, like all great stories, it started with a beautiful young woman,” he said. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and waited for him to continue. “A slave, to be exact, although the Supernaturals would never call her that. She was sent to the Shifter Alpha as a ward shortly after he took office. A present, if you will.” The older man uncrossed his ankles and got to his feet.
“That’s some present,” I muttered coolly. The older man chuckled under his breath, an old, earthy sound. He’s probably heard that before.
“It’s customary for the Court to send wards between the Councils, but yes, in her case she was treated no better than a slave. In many ways, sending her to the Alpha was a kindness that the Supernaturals didn’t see. You see, she was his signasti.” The old man paused, glancing up at the ceiling and then again to the books around us.
“But she didn’t know it because she was a Supernatural?” It came out like a question, but I already knew the answer.
“Yes, and because of that he had to earn her love.” He motioned to the room around us. “He built her this library and commissioned a Witch to work with an architect to create the stained glass ceiling.”
I stared at the whirling splotches of color; so vivid, but fleeting. They swirled almost like…smoke. The metal shapes moved like mercury.
“Why stained glass?” I asked, never taking my eyes off the ceiling. It was magnificent, but it’s not the kind of thing that is usually gifted.
“Katherina Branislav was from Bulgaria and spent a great deal of time in cathedrals as a child,” he answered. “Playing spy from the rafters on all the wealthy landholders and government higher ups. She fell in love with the stained glass windows there and as his wedding gift to her, the Alpha had this one built to be greater than any that came before it.”
Ah, that made more sense, but it still left one question…
“Branislav. That’s a ruling family,” I said. “I’ve never heard of ruling families sending their own children as wards.” Only them poaching children from other families, I added silently.
“The families on the Supernatural Council will give many things, including their children, if they think it will better help them keep their power,” he replied. There was an edge of underlying resentment that hadn’t been there before.
“I don’t see how giving away one girl—”
“Katherina was a forfeit,” he interjected. Not harsh or cold, but straight to the point.
“A forfeit?” I repeated, unable to hide the chill that ran down my spine. He must have read the surprise on my face and known that I wasn’t asking for an explanation when he only nodded.
A forfeit.
The polite term for the rare Supernatural born without powers. Instead, any magic that lies within them is passed onto their child at birth, making for children that are powerful beyond compare.
They are called forfeits because they don’t only give their power to that one child, but it costs them their life. Except…
“Keyla?”
He smiled grimly. “Katherina was stronger than any forfeit I’ve known. She survived the birth of her son, but not her daughter,” he said softly. Above us, the stained glass shone brighter as the dawn crept over the horizon.
“How do you know so much about her?” I asked. The older man took his seat beside me again and rested his elbows on his knees, bringing his hands together in a steeple while keeping his eyes to the sky.
“It’s the job of every Shifter to know their Alpha and protect them, just as it’s the Alpha’s job to make the best decision for the pack. Katherina may not have been born a Shifter, but she had the heart of one.”
He whispered her name with such reverence that I had to wonder. What kind of woman, born without power and given as a slave, could be every bit the Alpha as the natural born heir?
The kind of woman I could aspire to be.
Now that was a dangerous thought, considering I was the current heir’s signasti and a highly sought-after fugitive hiding from the Supernatural Council. But if I wasn’t…yes, Katherina Branislav would be the type of woman I could aspire to be.
I rose to my feet, making my way towards the door without a single tremor. The nerves that shackled me on my way here seemed to have eased their restraint. I lifted my hand to the door and turned halfway back to the stranger.
“I forgot to ask your name.” He smiled and swept his dark hair from his eyes. From several feet away in a half-lit room, they were a combination of dark umber and cedar brown.
“Nate,” he said after a slight hesitation.
“Thanks for the story, Nate. I’ll see you around.” I tipped my chin in a small nod and closed the library door firmly behind me, breathing a little easier than when I walked in.
Chapter 122
The air smelled crisp and clean when I walked onto the training field later that morning. Overnight a snowstorm had blown through leaving several inches of snow that was already melting in the morning sunlight.
“They’re staring,” Keyla stage whispered. She strutted her way across the field beside me like a Goddess whose mere presence was a blessing.
“You love it,” I replied. She threw her head back and laughed, loud and boisterous. I’d never known someone that could laugh so free and without a care. I envied it, but was happy for her all the same.
“You’re right. I do. This is the most attention they’ve paid me in ages,” she giggled.
I snorted, rolling my eyes. “Sure, we’ll go with that.”
Our easy banter fell into a silent anticipation as we approached the training ring I had Aaron set aside for my sister, cousin, and I. Ring wasn’t quite the right word to describe it. The twenty-yard-wide dip in the ground was closer to a hole than anything.
I walked right to the edge and stopped, peering down at the Shifter made arena. Flat stone walls ten-feet tall and a dirt floor covered by snow. In the center, Blair and Alexandra were already fighting, but it only took me a moment to realize their sparring lacked any real fierceness.
Blair was on the offensive, slowly backing her towards the stone wall. Her movements were quick. Precise. So were Alexandra’s blocks, but my cousin had something that my sister didn’t.
Absolute concentration.
I called it three moves before it happened.
Blair went for a pop to the head and Alexandra ducked straight into the blonde girl’s waiting knee. She brought it up hard into her chest, simultaneously pulling a dagger from her waist and pressing it into my sister’s exposed neck as she pushed her into the wall t
he last two feet.
“Pinned,” a Shifter called from across the ring, only inches from the lip of the arena. Several others had gathered around, including Aaron and Johanna. They stood by silently, either watching for trouble or waiting to see what I would do.
I didn’t ask.
“Break her hold,” I commanded quietly. Alexandra’s eyes flicked up instantly. Trepidation and warning filled her gaze as she stared silently. I toed the edge of the arena and raised a condescending eyebrow. “Break it,” I repeated.
“I can’t,” she spat.
“Bullshit,” I scoffed, fanning the flames that started in her eyes. She was close to snapping, but the second she turned her gaze to the girl holding her in place, that inner-fire all but fizzled out.
She didn’t want to hurt Blair.
Luckily for us, I knew all the right buttons to push and force it.
Unfortunately for me, I had to hold up my end of the deal.
“You can do it,” Violet whispered. “You are ready.”
Without letting myself overthink it and trusting my own inner demon, I stepped over the ridge and landed deftly on my feet.
“What is she doing?”
“She doesn’t even have a weapon.”
“She got lucky during the full moon—”
“Silence,” Aaron commanded. The whispering died out instantly. The Alpha’s order was law.
The snow crunched under my boots as I stalked across the clearing—every bit the predator both inside and out. Alexandra’s attention didn’t leave me for even a second as I slowly approached behind Blair.
“Blair, please step aside.” She dropped her hand back to her waist immediately and exited the makeshift arena.
Alexandra eyed me warily as she darted away from the wall, crossing to the other side in the blink of an eye. I don’t even think she realized she was already moving with demon speed, even if it was just to put distance between us.
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