The Vampire Court (Shadow World: The Vampire Debt Book 3)

by Ali Winters

  “I will never obey you,” I say.

  Alexander clicks his tongue as if reprimanding a petulant child. “Fine. Then, I will make you bleed.”

  I’m about to retort that he already has when he swipes a hand across my abdomen, scoring my flesh with his nails.

  Hot and cold wash over me in waves. I gasp, pressing my hands to my stomach to stanch the bleeding. He releases me, and I crash to my knees. I peel my hands away to assess the damage, but doing so only makes the pain more real.

  Alexanders hums pleasantly to himself, drawing my gaze up. He watches me with a bemused expression, sucking on each finger, tasting my blood.

  He lifts his foot, setting it on my shoulder, and knocks me flat on my back. Positioning himself over me, Alexander sits on my hips. He leans forward, placing one hand next to my head on top of my hair, locking me into place. His other hand runs up my sliced arm, across the gash over my heart, and then down to my stomach.

  Alexander smears blood over what remains of my shirt as he plays with my wounds. Each poke and prod sends waves of nausea roiling through me.

  I twist my hips, lifting them off the floor and wrench to the side, dumping him off of me. He lands at my side, shock written over his expression. I pull back my arm and aim. There’s a sickening crunch as my fist connects with his nose. It’s enough to sap most of my remaining energy. I’m not sure how much fight I have left. If I don’t end this soon, I will never leave this place.

  I push up from the floor and scramble past him. Alexander grabs my ankle and pulls. I land hard, barely catching myself before my face smashes into the stone.

  He drags me backward. I scream as the cuts on my belly rub across the floor. I’m almost relieved when he flips me onto my back, but it doesn’t last. His long fingers wrap around my throat, squeezing. It doesn’t cut off my air supply entirely, just enough that black spots blot out my vision.

  “Nothing beats fresh blood with the sweet taste of adrenaline. It’s so rare to find a human willing to fight but doesn’t fear me,” he pants. He presses a finger into the cut on my chest then brings it to his mouth. “You will be mine, and then, we will have eternity to play.”

  I stop struggling as his grip on my throat tightens. Several heartbeats later, he makes a disgusted sound and releases my neck, disgusted that I’ve stopped resisting. I gasp in the stale, musty air of the small tower room.

  His plan might be to bond us with the oath, but I’m slowly bleeding out, inching closer to death with every passing second. I will die if he keeps this up much longer—not that I ever stood much of a chance. I may have landed a few blows, but he is at full strength.

  A soft cackle sounds in my head, humorless and dry. The sound wraps around my mind.

  What have you gotten yourself into this time?

  I groan, not needing to fight Varin off as well.

  You can go back to the Otherworld, demon, I snap back at them mentally.

  If you had accepted my help, you would not be in this mess. You might not have had to die.

  I’m not dead yet.

  Anger flares, and I shove the demon from my mind, block it out, and focus on the monster on top of me.

  Alexander continues to carve my skin, completely focused on what he’s doing. I don’t know if he thinks I passed out or am on the edge of death, too weak to fight anymore.

  “Enough games for now,” he says.

  He slices one nail across his own chest, reopening his wound, then tangles his fist in my hair, and forces me to sit up, pulling me toward his chest.

  I slide my hand over my stomach, inching toward the sheathed dagger strapped to my arm. When my right hand is firmly around the hilt, I flop my left arm to the ground, drawing his attention. His head moves a fraction, his eyes following.

  This is my only chance.

  “I will never be bound to you,” I grind out through clenched teeth.

  I bring my knee up, hard and swift. The move doesn’t do more than shift both of our positions, but that’s all I need.

  He rears back, scowling. Then, I bring my right fist up and plunge the blade into his side. The point strikes between ribs, meeting no resistance.

  The hand gripping the back of my head goes slack as I pull the night-forged dagger out.

  Alexander gasps, pressing a hand to his side. He looks at the red staining his palm. I push him over and scramble until we’ve switched positions, and I straddle him. Then, I plunge the dagger into his chest with every ounce of strength I have left. He reaches up, clawing at my face. I twist the blade then yank it out, and he falls back.

  Gripping the dagger in both hands, I bring it down again.

  Again.

  And again.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Clara

  I plunge the dagger deep into his chest until the hilt prevents it from going farther. I drop my head, letting my shoulders slump. I refuse to let go, too afraid to look away—afraid he will sit up and rip out my throat.

  I am not dead yet…

  I am not dead…

  My breath comes in shaky, uneven bursts as warm blood still trickles down my arm… my chest… my stomach.

  I am not dead.

  The pain of my wounds comes back, rising like a pool of water. I can’t see through the tears burning the backs of my eyes.

  “Clara…”

  The sound of my name vaguely registers, sounding like a faraway echo.

  A hand lands on my shoulder. The touch is so unexpected I rip the dagger from Alexander’s chest and swing.

  Cassius leaps back, barely avoiding my strike. I blink and focus on his horrified expression then release the dagger. It clatters on the floor. The sound is loud, deafening silence.

  “Fuck,” Cassius mutters, running his hand down his face. “What happened, Clara?”

  I look down. My hands, my shirt, and the dead man I straddle are stained in a mixture of my blood and his.

  “I…” I curl my fingers into my palms and hug my middle. Whatever kept me going is beginning to wear off.

  Cassius crouches at my side, hands hovering as if he’s afraid to touch me. Seeing his uncertainty makes me wonder if this scene is even worse than I think.

  I offer him my uninjured left arm, and he helps me to stand. He doesn’t speak but continues to hold onto me, letting me lean on him. He reaches up and smooths his hand over my head in a ghost of a caress.

  With that touch, I feel everything all at once. I was attacked for being Alaric’s marked human, and he was nowhere in sight. Tears well up and fall without warning, tears of frustration, anger, pain, betrayal… and relief that somehow, I didn’t die.

  “We need to get you cleaned up. There’s enough blood here to call half the vampires in this castle.”

  I grip his hand hard, not sure when I’d taken it. I feel so weak, and that thought makes me giggle. Weak? But I’ve managed to kill five… or is it six vampires now?

  “Clara?” Cassius asks, an unsure expression on his face. “Did you damage your brain in that fight?”

  “I’m fine,” I say, reining in my laughter. “I just feel like I’m dying.”

  He tsks, wrapping an arm around my waist, careful to avoid the gashes on my stomach, and scoops my legs up.

  I relax into him, tired and aching.

  “How did you find me?” I ask.

  The muscle of his jaw feathers before he answers. “I knew what direction you went, and when you never returned to your room, I came looking for you. When I found your mother, I knew you couldn’t be far. You weren’t hard to find with as much as you’ve bled.” He looks down at me with an unreadable expression.

  “Are you angry with me?” I ask. Though, I’m not sure why because I don’t care if he is.

  “No, little bird, I’m not,” he says. “Now hold on. I need to get you somewhere safe to clean up before anyone else finds you here.”

  Fisting my hands in his shirt, I dip my head, resting it on his shoulder, and close my eyes.

  He moves
with a sickeningly fast pace, not slowing until I hear the click of a door moments later. I peel open my eyes and take in his room.

  Cassius marches over to the cushy chair next to the fireplace. The heat of the fire instantly washes over me. I hadn’t even realized I was cold until now. Shivers rack my body, and I can’t seem to control them.

  He sets me down on my feet and points to the chair. “Sit. I need to heal you.”

  I expected him to be furious that I wandered off and killed another vampire.

  “Why are you being nice?” I demand. I don’t trust him. He’s been ordered by the queen to keep me alive from what I can tell, but the training and the rescue…

  “You’ll bleed to death. It will be slow, but it will happen.”

  “You could heal me without my cooperation,” I point out, unsure why I’m arguing the point.

  “Is that what you want?”

  “No.”

  “Then sit down, and tell me where you’re hurt. There’s too much blood for me to see without undressing you completely.”

  I lower myself onto the chair, sinking into the cushions, then point out my numerous injuries.

  Closing my eyes, I breathe through the ache.

  “I meant, why do you train me in the mornings? I already know the queen ordered you to keep watch over me, so why bother pretending to care?” I ask.

  Vampires can’t be trusted, but even thinking that squeezes at my heart because the thought is directed more toward Alaric than Cassius. I trusted him, and I’m beginning to think it was a mistake.

  Cassius says nothing as he pulls the material of my shirt in a way that both keeps me covered and exposes every slice on my skin.

  “It’s not that bad,” I mutter. “I can wrap them myself.”

  “It is, and it will bring every vampire on this floor to this room if you don’t let me heal you.”

  I lift my shoulder of my uninjured arm and give a half shrug.

  “These wounds are worse than anything sustained in training. This will be painful,” he warns.

  I steel my jaw, bracing for what’s to come. “I’ve been healed while awake before. I understand.”

  “Because of the mark, I can’t compel you to sleep.”

  “I know,” I snap, irritated with his warnings, wishing he would get on with it already.

  Tilting my head up, I focus on the texture of the ceiling, the unfinished beams painted white to match the walls, and the knots still visible in the wood.

  Cassius lays his hands atop the open wounds. I flinch, my heartbeat kicking up. Every part of me is raw and aching. I don’t look forward to the added pain of healing.

  Several endless seconds pass before the warm light of his power radiates under his palms. I pull in a breath and hold it, waiting, but all that comes is a deep ache. It’s uncomfortable but not painful. I release my breath and relax.

  Cassius’s hands move to my arms next, my chest, and then to the scratches along my shoulders, healing the worst of it first. His eyes are focused, not looking up from each area until he’s finished.

  “How do you feel? Are there other injuries you didn’t tell me about?” When I don’t move or say anything, he presses the back of his hand to my forehead. “Clara, talk to me.”

  I blink, not understanding why he sounds more worried now than he did minutes before. I sit up and go through the motions of flexing my muscles and bending my joints. “I’m fine. I feel like I haven’t slept in a year, but nothing hurts.”

  “You didn’t seem bothered by the process.”

  “I wouldn’t say it was pleasant… Perhaps it didn’t bother me because everything else was worse?” I offer.

  He seems doubtful but doesn’t press the issue.

  I jump when someone knocks.

  Cassius glares at the visitor through the door, then rising to his feet, he says, “Go in the bathroom and get cleaned up.”

  My heart hammers in my chest as I wonder if it’s Alaric at the door. “But—”

  “Go now, Clara.” He rips off his shirt and tosses it into the fire.

  I don’t understand his sudden mood shift, but I really do need to wash this blood off me. I turn and make my way to the bathroom, stopping just inside the threshold. I strain to hear the voice of whoever came by, but they are talking too low. Giving up, I sit on the edge of the bathtub and wait.

  Minutes later, Cassius walks in wearing a new shirt and frowns.

  “Was that him?” I ask. I don’t have to say Alaric’s name for him to understand.

  “I told you to get cleaned up.”

  His tone grates on me. “I don’t have my clothes here. They are in my old room.”

  “Then, I will send for them later, but for now, you need to wash. Help yourself to anything you can find here.”

  I need clothes, not towels or bedsheets. I can’t imagine that he would have women’s clothes lying around. Even considering wearing something of his twists my gut. There aren’t many options other than washing my clothes and laying them out as I bathe.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” I say. “Was that Alaric?”

  He grinds his teeth then bites out, “No.”

  If that had any semblance of truth to it, there would be no anger, no hesitation. Anger and sorrow mix in an ugly combination of feelings. He was so close to me, and I missed him.

  “This is why I don’t trust you,” I snap.

  “Let him go, Clara.”

  “Let me go.”

  Cassius stalks closer, his speed and posture sending me on the defense. I jump to my feet. Cassius takes me in from my fists to my defensive stance then backs up a step.

  “Do you understand why so many vampires seek you out and not any of the other hundreds of humans in this castle?” he asks.

  The question is unexpected. I pause, scrunching up my nose and think. “Is it because I’m chosen by the demons and saints of the Otherworld?”

  “Clara, this isn’t a joke.”

  I fold my arms over my chest and, not having a genuine reason to offer up, shake my head.

  When I don’t answer, he says, “It’s because they don’t respect him. Elizabeth is offering Alaric more power than any of us could dream of, and yet he refuses. He doesn’t want it, and not a single one of us understands why.”

  I swallow thickly. My head starts to pound but not from the day’s events.

  “I must leave for the evening. That is no small mess to clean.” He turns and walks away, stopping in the doorway to look back. “Please stay inside until I return.”

  Then he leaves me alone.

  Finding an ally is imperative… but can anyone be trusted?

  Can he be trusted?

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Alaric

  The door opens, just enough for Cassius’s face to show, his body blocking the view of the room.

  My nostrils flare as the sharp tang of human and vampire blood wafts from inside. “What is going on in there?”

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Cassius says blandly. “What do you want?”

  “Is Clara in there?”

  Cassius arches a golden brow. “You know better than to ask that.”

  “Tell me if she’s here.” I pause before adding, “Please.”

  Cassius looks over my shoulder where Cherno flies in erratic circles in the air then back to me. “She is.”

  I press against the door, intending to push past him. He doesn’t budge.

  “You are Elizabeth’s consort first and a human’s master last,” he says. Lowering his voice, he adds, “Coming here will only put her in more danger. You need to stay away from Miss Valmont.”

  His words are a reminder that keeps me from forcing my way in to Clara. I straighten and adopt a blank mask. “I have a message,” I say. “There’s to be a court meeting at midnight, per our queen’s decree.”

  Cassius shifts, giving me a sliver of sight into the room. I don’t see Clara or evidence of the blood I smell.

  “Has Elizabe
th demoted you to her little errand boy now? That’s quite the status fall, even for you.”

  “Be careful,” I say, bringing my face close to his and flashing my fangs, “You would do well to remember your place. I might never have wanted this position, but I am here now and will soon have even more power at my fingertips.” Stepping back, I straighten. “I am giving you this message for a reason.”

  Cassius studies me with a pensive expression. Finally, he says, “Then, tell me the real reason you’re here.”

  I remain silent for a long moment before saying, “I want to see her.”

  “We both know why you can’t do that. Do not be a fool.”

  I snarl. “She bears my mark, not yours or anyone else’s. And so help me, if you touch her—”

  Cassius grins wickedly. “Again, my prince.” He spits the words as though they’re an insult. “That is no longer your concern.”

  I grip him by the front of his shirt and bring my face within an inch of his. “Do not touch her.”

  “That is up to Clara.” He pushes my hands off and smooths out the wrinkles from his shirt. “Did you know she killed another vampire? Another court member and he wasn’t even demon cursed.”

  Whatever I was about to say or do evaporates. I gape. “Who?”

  “Alexander Hughes.”

  “The one from the reclaiming…” It takes everything in me to not demand the details. The blood… it is hers, but there’s another’s mixed with it.

  Cassius nods. “She is unharmed, but you will need to do something if you don’t want to see her dead.”

  Elizabeth lifts herself up on her toes and cups my cheek, giving two pats before placing a kiss on my mouth.

  “This was a pleasant surprise,” she says, pulling away. “It is good you have finally accepted your fate. Things will soon be as they always should have been.”

  “You are right, my queen. I have been stubborn.” I put every ounce of repentance into my words that I can summon.

  Elizabeth smiles, cat-like and victorious. She snaps her finger, and Kharis swoops out of the shadows. They glide through the room and snatch Cherno from my shoulder with their taloned feet. The raven swings around, cutting the air with their broad wings and flinging my demon into the empty, gilded birdcage. The cage door closes and locks. Cherno presses against it and hisses, falling to the bottom of the cage.