by Becca Blake
He stepped out, leaving her alone in the apartment.
With Zephyr gone, the emptiness of the apartment without Miria was suffocating. But she wouldn’t have to suffer through it long—she had plans she couldn’t reschedule for that evening.
Darien would be waiting for her.
She dressed herself in the clothes Sara had given her for her next visit: a too-tight black shirt that clung to her slender form and a snug miniskirt that left her long legs bare. She’d need to buy more of her own clothing that night before leaving the Second District, but for now, Sara’s outfit would keep her from looking out of place at the Blood Den. She sat in front of the mirror and braided up her long hair to pull it out of her face, leaving her neck and shoulders bare.
The woman in the mirror didn’t look like her. She almost looked like a woman from the surface, beautiful and carefree. Unaware of what lurked in the shadows. That wasn’t her—it would never be. She turned her back on the mirror that mocked her with a future that would never be hers. She wrapped a cloak around herself and began the long walk to the Second District.
Darien stood in front of the gate, this time accompanied by a different partner. The watchtower behind them seemed more ominous than ever with the knowledge that Miria was somewhere inside. Had they hurt her? Did she know yet what punishment she would have to serve?
A grin spread on Darien’s face as Azalea approached, sending chills traveling down her spine.
“Thought I’d have to come find you and drag you back to the Den tonight.” He put a finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at him.
She fought against her instinct to recoil from his touch. Instead, she forced a smile, sweet and inviting. “Of course not,” she said. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight all day.”
His hand drifted downward until his thumb and pointer finger pressed against either side of her throat. “As have I.”
The other vampire cleared his throat. “I’ll escort her to the Blood Den. Lucian wasn’t too happy to hear about how long you left your post last night. He gave me an earful about making sure you stayed at the gate.”
Darien’s hand tightened around Azalea’s throat. “I will take her.”
“You know damn well we’re handling a sensitive situation right now. Don’t piss off Lucian tonight.”
“Lucian be damned,” Darien snarled. “I’m taking her. Other guards leave their posts to fuck around all the time—why shouldn’t I? I’ll be back before the twelfth bell.” He shoved his partner aside and heaved open the gate, leading Azalea through to the Second District. He gripped her wrist tight, leading her too quickly through the streets.
“Sensitive situation?” Azalea stumbled over her own feet as she struggled to keep up with the vampire’s unnaturally swift pace.
“Some dumb elven bitch attacked someone,” he said. “Left a bloody mess of his face.”
“Is he all right?” she asked. “And what will happen to her?”
“He’ll live, so she will, too.” Darien turned down an alleyway and hoisted her over a fence. “Bullshit, if you ask me. Violent animals should be put down.”
Maybe violent animals should be put down. But they should start with you.
She bit her lip to keep herself from speaking it aloud until the taste of blood filled her mouth.
Darien spun around and slammed her against the wall, hungry eyes staring down at her lips.
“You were going too fast,” she said. “I stumbled.” Only partially a lie.
“Careful,” he murmured. “Or we won’t make it to the Blood Den at all.” He took her wrist again and pulled her even faster through the streets. She ran to keep up with his pace, her boots thudding against the cobblestone.
When they arrived at the Blood Den, Sara greeted them. Her eyes flicked briefly down to Azalea’s lip, but she didn’t acknowledge it. “You’ve cleaned up nicely.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m taking her upstairs,” Darien snarled. He dropped a fistful of coins on the counter in front of Sara, then pulled Azalea past the curtain.
Azalea’s gaze drifted up to the balcony, where Lord Nero sat once again. He watched with a stony-eyed stare as Darien led Azalea through the crowded public space and up the stairs, where she followed him into a private room.
She sat on the edge of the bed, heart pounding from the pace Darien had forced her to keep across the Second District. She looked down at the wooden planks on the floor, imagining patterns in the grain. Anything that would keep her from meeting Darien’s gaze.
With trembling fingers, she pulled back her shirt and tilted her head, offering her neck to the sudden chill in the room.
He stood still in the doorway, curtain still open. He said nothing as he stared at her, waiting. Azalea wasn’t sure what for, but as the minutes stretched on, her discomfort grew.
“If you’re going to make it back before the twelfth bell, we should hurry,” she said.
Darien was across the room in a flash, his hand gripping her throat as he had earlier. “I will take as long with you as I please.”
She shuddered under his touch, both dreading and longing for the ecstasy of his bite. She could get through this. “I just meant— I didn’t want—”
Darien’s fist closed around her hair. His fingers laced into her braids and yanked them free, pulling her head back with them. He held her head in place as he leaned down and found her mouth with his, thrashing his tongue against hers.
It was all she could do not to bite down on the unwelcome intrusion. He sickened her. He terrified her. Before she could stop herself, she pulled away from him in revulsion. “No.”
When he pulled away from her, there was a dark, hungry look in his eyes. “Excuse me?”
Her heart raced. “You’ll have to find someone else tonight. I won’t feed you again. Sara says—”
His slap stung her cheek, sharp and hard. “Fuck what Sara says. I paid for a service, and I’m taking what I please.”
“No! I—”
He forced her down on the bed, covering her mouth with his hand. “I came here to have some fun while I feed, and you’re going to let me. If you fight against me, I’ll leave you here helpless as you bleed out all over this bed once I’m done. Is that clear?”
She stilled her body and gave a slight nod.
“Good girl,” Darien said, flashing his fangs in another terrifying grin. He took her by the hair again and slammed her head against the bed’s headboard. The world lurched around her.
Darien climbed atop her. His revolting smile danced in her vision. His bite would leave her still and helpless. By hurting her, he was doing nothing more than playing with her, taunting her with reminders that he was in control.
That she could do nothing to stop him.
She refused to prove him right.
Though dizziness distorted her vision, she pulled back her leg and kicked with all her strength, hoping to strike true.
Darien let out a choked gasp. Too late, his hands instinctively lowered to cover himself. “Bitch!”
She’d hit her mark. Vampire though he was, he had the same weak spot between his legs as any mortal male.
Despite her head spinning, she pushed herself away, crawling toward the edge of the bed. He gripped her ankle and pulled her back toward him.
She hadn’t planned this far. She hadn’t planned any of this. With all of her body weight, she rolled to the side, her ankle still in his hand. She flung herself off the bed with enough force that her foot slipped free of his grasp. She crashed into the bedside table and fell to the ground. Wood splintered around her, flying in every direction.
She looked around, searching for a weapon. The wood of the table leg, sharpened at the end where it had snapped in half, was her only hope for salvation. If she didn’t stop him, he would kill her tonight. Of that, she was certain. S
he clasped the broken leg of the table tight in her hand.
The vampire dropped to the floor and rolled on top of her, pinning her to the ground with his knee in her belly. “This is going to hurt, and with your last miserable breath, you’re going to—”
She cut him off with a swift motion, gliding her fist in a perfect arc and burying the table leg stake into the side of his throat.
Blood gurgled in his mouth as he tried to form words, but none came.
Azalea pulled the weapon free and brought it up again, this time between his ribs. He fell forward into it, sliding down the table leg until his body lay still against her, pinning her down with dead weight.
Her breath came heavy, the only sound in the room other than the blood dripping from his neck. She’d used all of her strength to oppose him. All she could do now was lie beneath him as his blood coated her face, coated her neck, coated her brand new shirt made of black silk, coated the floor around her in a growing pool.
She had done what was necessary, the only thing she could do to defend herself.
None of that truth would matter when they found her. She was now an elf who had killed a vampire, and they would take her life in turn.
7
Even if Azalea had the strength to get up, there was no point. Every moment she lay there smothered by his corpse and covered in his blood stretched on for an eternity. Someone nearby must have heard the struggle. They would come for her soon, and she would be executed.
Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the blood on her cheeks. How would Miria react when she learned the news? Whatever punishment they were giving her, Azalea couldn’t hope for the same. Not after the serious crime of killing a vampire. What would Miria do when she learned she sacrificed herself for nothing, that Azalea squandered her protection by throwing herself into the fire and getting burnt?
Miria would have never approved of Azalea coming to the Blood Den. She would never forgive her for feeding vampires. It was why Azalea had planned to hide it from her until the right moment. But Miria had been right all along, and now, the right moment would never come.
Would she at least get to say goodbye before she left Miria alone?
Not all alone. Miria had Zephyr, at least. It was a small comfort that he would step in to fill the void her death would leave behind.
She turned her head toward the rustling sound of the curtain being pulled back and fought the urge to squeeze her eyes shut. Closing them wouldn’t hide her or cover up what she’d done. If nothing else, she could face her fate with pride that she’d defended herself.
The most dangerous creature in this cavern stood in the doorway, staring down at her. Of all the vampires and elves in the building, Nero Cineris had to be the one to find her. The fear she had resolved to cast aside flooded back through her at the sight of him.
The vampire who filled the doorway leveled his cool gaze at her, silver-grey eyes watching her with the same disinterest he’d shown when Darien first dragged her to this room. His short, dark hair and pale skin were unchanged from when she’d first seen him as a child. There was a hardness in his gaze, in the sharp lines of his jaw, but despite that, he had a youthful appearance that suggested he’d been turned into a vampire at a young age, likely no older than eighteen or nineteen.
Nero’s features betrayed no reaction as he walked inside the room, closing the curtain as calmly and casually as he might if he were walking in for dinner. As he crouched down beside her, he kept his boots just outside the stilled pool of crimson surrounding her. He said nothing, just looked at her expectantly with that chilling stare, awaiting her explanation.
The words tumbled out of her faster than she could think of them. “I-I’m so sorry. He brought me in here, and he was on top of me, and he was hurting me, and—”
“Did he attack you?” Nero’s voice was quiet, almost soothing as he interrupted her.
“Yes,” she breathed out.
He looked down her body and beyond until his eyes rested on the torn skirt discarded near the foot of the bed. “And you murdered him for it?”
“Yes.”
The word hung in the air between them. Neither moved in the painful silence that followed.
“I don’t expect that to change your mind,” Azalea added finally. “I’m just an elf. I know where I stand.”
Nero reached out to her and ran his fingers along her cheek, wiping away tears and blood. He pulled his hand back with the palm up, staring down at the bright drips of red streaking down his fingertips. “Elf or no, what he did to you is illegal in Terra Nocturne. Even here, in the Blood Den. Darien knew as much.” He looked at the body with disdain. “Our lust for blood comes with a thirst for power. A tendency toward violence. A darkness of which we must remain ever vigilant, ever aware, lest it consume us.”
His words were stiff. Formal. It reminded her of the careful speech of the Viridi courtiers as they hid emotions behind pretty words. She’d nearly forgotten what such formal speech sounded like. She watched his face carefully, waiting for any sign of the anger she’d been expecting. It didn’t come.
“What is your name?”
“Azalea,” she answered, her voice soft as a whisper on the wind. “Azalea Nydira.”
Nero nodded as though he approved. A slight smile played at the corners of his mouth. “A beautiful flower. Lovely to look at, but toxic for he who wishes to consume it.”
The moments stretched to eternity once more, but this time, it wasn’t her fear for her life that made it so. It was something far deeper, something she couldn’t put a name to.
Nero pulled the limp, lifeless body off of her, heaving it carelessly away. He lifted her onto the bed and pulled her upright, no longer concerning himself with the hopeless task of avoiding the blood. Streaks of red soaked into his white shirt as he repositioned her.
“I’ll check with Sara to see if she has any clean clothing we can send you home in, as your clothes from tonight aren’t fit to wear again.” He took off his jacket and rubbed the material on her face, scrubbing her clean with great care.
Though he was treating her with unexpected kindness, he still hadn’t answered the question that burned in her mind, demanding an answer. “How will I be punished for this?”
“As I said, he broke the law. No, flower. I will not punish you for protecting yourself.”
He paused in his efforts to clean her off, and she met his eyes. The intensity of his gaze was no longer cool and chilling, but was now burning hot, scorching her to her core.
“Thank you, my lord, for giving me my life a second time.”
Nero shook his head. “It is not a gift to you. It’s the law in this city, a law I would uphold for anyone in your position.”
He removed his shirt, baring the firm muscles of his chest. Streaks of long-healed scarring marred his otherwise flawless body, and though she was curious, Azalea didn’t dare ask about them. Nero continued scrubbing the blood from her skin. Up close, he smelled sweet with a hint of spice, like the rich scent of honey mixed with cinnamon.
The burst of energy she’d gotten from the attack began to calm, and Azalea found herself settling back into the pillows and sheets. She hadn’t expected to be given justice for her situation.
“All the same,” she murmured, “thank you.”
“If you feel indebted to me and feel the need to return the favor, I have a proposal. I’d like you to join me at the castle tomorrow for dinner, followed by a private feeding if you’re willing to offer your vein.” Nero’s gentle smile kept his fangs hidden behind his closed lips.
The fluttering in her heart stopped very abruptly as her breath caught in her throat. How had she gone from fearing for her life to receiving a dinner invitation from Nero Cineris, of all vampires?
Lilah had mentioned that some vampires took consorts, elves they kept in their homes and treated to a life of luxury.
Was that safety and comfort something Lord Nero could provide her? She hadn’t expected such an opportunity to come so quickly, or for it to be with this particular vampire.
She also hadn’t expected it to come with so much blood that wasn’t her own.
“Will you join me?” Nero pressed after her silence stretched too long.
A breathy, shaky answer escaped her lips. “Yes.”
The agonizing wait could have been five minutes or five hours for all Miria knew before the vampire guard finally returned.
Miria stopped pacing and stared at him, wishing she could fade away into the stone walls behind her. “Is he alive?” she asked after an uncomfortably long silence.
He nodded. “His arm and nose are broken, and he’s got a few teeth less than he had earlier today.”
“I just wanted him to leave my friend and me alone.”
“We interviewed several witnesses who claim you were the one who initiated the disagreement.”
“If you’d done your job and intervened when he was first harassing my friend, I wouldn’t have had to do something about it myself.”
The vampire raised a hand to stop her from speaking. “I don’t give a damn about elven squabbles. What I give a damn about is damaged goods. Your lives are at the pleasure of Lord Nero, and you would do well not to forget that. Some time serving in the mines to repay the expenses for your victim’s medical care ought to improve that shitty attitude of yours.”
Miria could almost feel the color draining from her face. She thought of Girard, worn and tired from his time spent there, and of all the stories of those who had never returned. “How long?”
“Until your debt is repaid.”
He led her through the city toward the mining tunnels at the deepest end of Terra Nocturne. They were at the very edge of the Third District, as far from the vampire nobility as possible. The entrance was at the top of a narrow path winding up the rock with uneven steps and footholds. If Miria slipped, it would be her death.
She stood at the bottom with Lucian, captain of the vampire guard in the Third District. He’d wanted to personally see her to her first day of working the mines.
