by Marcy Jacks
Even when his father was at his most violent, Sorin had never heard the servants scream like that. The woman that used to pour his milk into his porridge and lovingly fed him blood from her wrist before he was old enough to accept real food…Beth.
She was dead.
He looked at her, the chaos and screaming fading into the background as though someone was slowly turning the volume dial down.
Maybe it wasn’t that bad. Maybe she wasn’t dead. Her eyes were open and lifeless, but her brain could still be alive. She might just need some CPR.
If anyone could give her CPR in the puddle of blood she was lying in. It seemed to be gushing steadily from the back of her head.
And Sorin was ashamed to admit to himself that, even despite the horror of what he was seeing, that she was a woman he’d loved like a second mother, he couldn’t stop his mouth from filling with moisture at the sight of all that blood.
His fangs lengthened in his mouth.
“We have to go! Hey!”
Something hard smacked Sorin across the face. He almost didn’t notice it until it happened again. He looked up at the man who’d hit him.
“Snap out of it! We have to go!”
The screaming became loud once more, the center of his attention and focus as he looked around. He allowed the human to bring him outside, into the sun, where his skin immediately began to peel and bleed. It blinded him, and it burned, but it was worth it. It was worth it so he could tell his father what had been done to Beth, find the one responsible, and kill them for it.
Outside, however, the sounds of screaming and fighting didn’t stop.
Sorin forced his eyes open, ignoring the pain and heat. He knew better than to touch his face, as he would smear blood across it and make the wounds opening on his flesh even worse.
Then he spotted Lucian being forced down onto the grass.
Multiple humans in the same black armor stood around him. They tied him down, shocking him with long metal prods.
Lucian cried out. He seemed stuck somewhere between his human and dragon shape, and despite the fight he was putting up, he couldn’t seem to protect himself against the electric shocks hitting him.
They were purposely avoiding his stone-like scales. Because the torture wouldn’t be as effective?
Lucian looked up at him, their eyes met, and Lucian sneered at him, a look made all the more horrible by the condition of his face.
And the fangs in Sorin’s mouth became long enough that he had to part his lips slightly or else risk stabbing himself in the lower lip.
Something snapped. He’d never hunted on his own. He’d never killed, but something within him, the vampire elite his father always wanted to see in him, it flared to life as he sped over to the men in black faster than his guard could stop him.
Sorin grabbed one by the back of the head before he realized what had hit him, pulled him back, and bit down hard enough on the side of his throat that his fangs pierced the protective material around his neck and throat.
Blood flowed into his mouth like a rushing river, and Sorin sucked back hard and fast, drinking his fill before throwing the human away as the others noticed he was there.
As if they’d forgotten Sorin was the one they were trying to save, or didn’t notice in the chaos, they took their attention away from Lucian and came at Sorin, their electric prongs at the ready, and Sorin reacted, eager for his next meal, while Lucian struggled against the bonds tying him down.
* * * *
There weren’t as many of them in the house anymore, which was a good thing. Some of the omegas, they were dead. Others, males and females, hugged each other and cried as they relived the horrors of nearly being taken out of the house, away from the dragons that had set them free.
“Don’t let them escape!” Seth roared, watching as two more escaped out of the hole they had created in the back.
Andrei roared, a harsh battle cry, and he and Stefan charged outside, injured but still ready to fight.
The sight that met him, of Lucian battling back to back with a blood-faced vampire, shocked him enough to halt him in his tracks.
At first he thought Lucian simply didn’t notice the vampire behind him. It certainly looked like someone had torn the flesh from the bloodsuckers face, but no, that was his face, just…kind of melty or inside out. He couldn’t look at it anymore. Seth had seen blood for the vast majority of his life, and yet seeing something as gross as that was going to make him puke.
He focused instead on seeing to Lucian. He was bleeding, as well. Sweat dripped from his face and body, and his punches slowed as the remaining men circled.
Andrei screamed his battle cry and led the charge. Seth grinned, proud of his friend as he went to join the fray.
The men surrounding Lucian, as if they were the last to realize their friends were retreating, glanced up to see the dragon alphas charging them, and the thrill that sizzled through Seth’s chest as they turned to run for their lives was beyond exciting. He gave chase, even though he didn’t have to, even though they were no longer anywhere near Lucian. He chased them all the way to their black SUVs, forcing himself to stop only when the men in black armor jumped into their vehicles and started their engines.
The adrenaline pumping through his veins made his lungs work incredibly hard and was so damned delicious, but even in this state, he knew he could not follow.
The fight and chase had been thrilling. Watching his prey escape him was a bitter taste that chased away the victory on his tongue.
His body remained tense until after the vehicles had turned and were down the driveway, around the bend of trees. If they came back, it wouldn’t be today.
Secure in the knowledge that he wasn’t about to get shot in the back or run over when he turned, Seth decided it best to return to his friends and to assess the damage.
There was definitely a lot, and they had just barely managed to get the roof fixed from when they’d taken the house back for themselves.
From where he stood, he could already see the damage was massive, enough that even their skills might not be enough to properly take care of it.
Lucian was on his knees. Andrei and Stefan stood around him, checking on him, patting him on the back as they attempted to haul him to his knees.
The blood-faced vampire was, strangely enough, back in the shadows of the house, watching the entire spectacle. It looked like he’d wrapped a curtain around his head and body. That seemed to be enough to keep him relatively safe from the sun outside.
Van, bleeding from his right arm and clutching it as though it pained him, stood close, as though watching the vampire in case he tried anything.
Though Seth was still monumentally grossed out by the entire thing. He stepped up to Lucian, barely allowing himself to take his eyes off the bloodsucker.
“You all right?”
Lucian panted and puffed for breath as if there were a whistle caught in his throat. In all the years Seth had known the man, he’d never heard that noise come from his mouth before. “Fine…just need…a minute.”
“And some water,” Seth replied, looking to the others. “Get him inside and seen to. I need to check on the others.”
Bodies would need to be cleaned away, servants and probably a few more of the dragons Seth had invited to live in the house after taking it over.
All deaths would be entirely his doing, his fault. He hadn’t prepared the property well enough before deciding to simply live here.
Like an impatient child.
He walked up to the vampire, expecting it to scurry away. It didn’t. It stared up defiantly at Seth, as though waiting for him to pass his judgment.
Those narrowed eyes, they were blue, and it wasn’t just the color of his eyes, but the shape of his bloody nose and the height of his cheekbones, that gave away his identity. Seth could still see some minor things about the man, even with all the blood on his face.
Seth nodded to Van, indicating he could leave, go off and help else
where around the mansion.
“Why didn’t you try to escape? They obviously came for you.”
Sorin turned away from him. “I know. They killed the others in the basement.”
Seth lifted his brows. “Did they? Shocking.”
Sorin nodded. He seemed to be in a daze. “Yeah.”
Seth observed him. Andrei and Stefan ignored the pair of them as they helped Lucian into the house.
“Is he going to be all right?”
Seth sucked back a heavy breath. “Not that it’s your concern, but yes. His injuries are not so terrible, and he will heal soon.”
Sorin sighed, as though he was relieved. “Good.”
Seth didn’t understand. Nor did he care.
“God, I can hardly stand to look at you. You look as if your face was attacked with a cheese shredder.” There was only some skin left on his face, and it was badly blackened around the edges.
Sorin glared up at him once more. “When I get some more blood in me, I’ll heal faster.”
“Well, don’t even think of taking it from the bodies of our fallen. I don’t care if they were your former slaves. They are off-limits to you.”
Sorin turned away, his cheek twitching. “I would not have done that.”
Seth crossed his arms, observing the man.
“I need to check on my mate. I expect you’ll cause no trouble if unsupervised?”
“Don’t you want to send me back to my cage?” Sorin asked bitterly.
“That would be no thanks to helping Lucian, and Miles seems to think you deserve a proper chance. I suppose you’ve earned it.”
Sorin whipped his head around, staring up at Seth with wide eyes.
Seth growled, turning away from the son of his greatest enemy. “Don’t make me regret it.”
* * * *
Miles put the gun down on the dresser. He set the magazine clip next to it. There was still a bullet in the chamber, but he didn’t know how to take it out without accidentally shooting something, or someone, so he left it there.
His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He didn’t have blood on them or anything, but…at the same time, there was blood on them. He’d never see it, and he’d never be able to scrub it off, but it was going to be there for the rest of his life.
He was a killer.
Screams and crying were still happening downstairs. Miles heard it, and instead of going down there and doing something to help, now that he probably could and wouldn’t have to end someone’s life, he was stuck up here, hiding, like a complete coward.
“Miles?”
Miles turned toward the door at the sound of Seth’s panicked voice. If there was anything that could draw him toward the door and leave his bedroom, it was Seth’s voice.
Miles threw open the door and rushed out into the waiting arms of his mate.
Seth’s arms opened wide to him. Another two seconds and he would have made it to the door and barged in.
“Thank God,” Seth rasped out. His arms squeezed tightly around Miles’s waist.
It hurt it was so tight, and Miles didn’t say a word about it because that was the way he wanted it. He wanted his mate to be able to hang on for as long as possible. He wanted to hold his arms around Seth’s neck and keep their bodies pressed together for the rest of their damned lives, and he didn’t care how stupid that sounded.
“I’m so happy you’re safe,” Miles said. His throat closed just thinking about it, about the battle, the man who had tried to sneak up on Seth, and the way the trigger had felt on his finger when he’d pulled it.
“I thought he was going to kill you.”
Seth shook his head. “No, sweet. I am right here.”
“But he was coming up right behind you.”
He felt the tension in Seth’s body when those words left his mouth, and Miles really wished in that moment that he could take them back.
“Did you leave the panic room?”
Seth put Miles back down on his feet. He hadn’t even noticed being lifted off them, and now that tight grip around his waist had moved to his shoulders as Seth stared down at him with something akin to horror in his eyes.
“You left the panic room?” he asked again, as if to just make sure he wasn’t misunderstanding.
And Miles couldn’t meet his gaze. “I had to.”
“Wait, was that you? The shot…” Seth grabbed Miles by his wrist and pulled him back into the master bedroom.
His eyes scanned the bedroom before he found the gun on the dresser. He walked over to it.
“It’s still loaded. Be careful,” Miles said quickly, hating the weapon and glad when Seth didn’t pick it up to examine it.
Seth seemed too shocked to want to examine it anyway. He slowly turned his head and stared down at Miles, his eyes wide enough that Miles could see the whites all around them.
Miles looked away. Shame filled him up.
“You killed that man? You fired that shot?”
Miles held on to his elbow. He didn’t know why, but somehow that allowed him to feel smaller than he already was, and he needed that.
He nodded. “Yes.”
This was worse than any other feeling he could have felt around his mate. This was something that a man would have a hard time overlooking.
Seth had explained to him again and again that, no matter what he said or whatever thing he’d done that he thought was wrong, it would be all right. Miles only ever had to look at his mate and know that Seth thought he was wonderful and perfect and that nothing he ever did would change the way Seth saw him.
But Miles had never taken a life before.
“You’re doing it again.”
A hand came under his chin, forcing Miles to look up at his mate, into Seth’s patient eyes.
Miles swallowed hard. “Doing what?”
“Looking away from me when you think you’ve done something wrong.”
Miles clenched his fists. He couldn’t stop the shaking, like before, only this time it was a thousand times more frustrating because it almost felt as if Seth was purposely missing the reason why Miles felt the way he did about this whole thing.
“Well?”
Miles briefly bit his lips together, and then he couldn’t hold it back anymore. “I did do something wrong. I killed someone.”
“I’ve killed before,” Seth said softly. “You know that.”
“That’s different,” Miles insisted. “You…you’re a warrior. That’s your purpose. To protect, to fight, and sometimes to kill.”
“You don’t think you should kill.”
“No one should.”
“Sweet, you just admitted that it is perfectly all right for me to kill when defending the clan.”
Miles tried to look away again, but Seth wouldn’t let him. He forced Miles to hold eye contact.
“No, no. None of that. I am not your overlord, and you have nothing to feel shame for. You were defending me.”
Miles’s bottom lip trembled. He shook his head. “You don’t understand. I don’t want to kill people. I’m happy you’re alive. I would do it again, but I don’t want to do it. My hands feel dirty.”
He looked his mate right in the eyes. “Don’t you ever feel that?”
Seth’s chest rose and fell in a heavy sigh. “Yes, I’ve had that feeling before.”
He took Miles by his hands and lifted them so Seth’s lips touched Miles’s knuckles.
Warmth spread through Miles’s hands, up his arms, and into his chest and heart at the kiss. He froze when Seth looked him in the eyes.
“That will pass when you come to terms with your lack of choice. You were defending my life.” Seth’s thumb stroked across Miles’s cheek in the best possible way. It warmed his stomach and the inside of his chest. “Thank you for that, but I swear to God, if you ever leave the safety of the panic room again when I tell you not to, I might just have to kill you.”
Miles snorted a laugh.
Seth’s smile was soothing. “I’m glad you can la
ugh at that, but in all seriousness, please don’t put yourself in danger again.”
“I wasn’t in danger,” Miles insisted. “I was in the small cubbies we use to get around and clean the house.”
One of Seth’s bright red brows lifted up high. “There are pathways around the house?”
“Small ones. You wouldn’t be able to fit,” Miles said and then realized something. “Didn’t you know that?”
Seth rolled his eyes, reached out, and grabbed Miles by the back of his neck and pulled him forward, crushing their lips together, making Miles forget all about the battle that had just taken place, the lives lost, and the risks taken.
How could he think of anything other than his mate when Seth kissed him so beautifully?
Chapter Nine
There were pathways in the house, and Seth hadn’t known. He growled as he kissed his mate, forcing those lips open with his tongue so he could lick deeply inside.
He felt the shiver that rushed through his mate. Seth took pleasure in the tremble and weakness coursing through Miles’s body.
Miles melted against him. Just the way Seth wanted him and liked him. He reached down, his hands sliding across Miles’s body. Seth didn’t realize how much he needed to touch and stroke until right at that moment when it occurred to him that he might have never had the chance to do this again if something happened.
Seth didn’t care if he died. He was a warrior. Death was to be expected. It was to be welcomed. He’d prepared himself for the chance he would be killed in his mission from the day he’d decided to take it on.
And yet the thought of losing his mate…of knowing Miles, his sweet little fox omega, had left the safety of the panic room and searched him out…it terrified him in ways he could not now, nor did he think he would ever be able to, explain.
It made his heart pound hot and heavy in his chest and his ears ring in a constant monotone noise that drilled into the side of his head, and the only cure was to keep touching his mate, to keep kissing him and proving to himself that everything was all right.
Miles was right here with him. Miles was safe and sound. Seth let his hands stroke across his back, his waist, and even his tail and ears at times.
