by Tanith Frost
The monster in me takes over, bringing her hunger and her desire for his fear.
This is Tempest. There’s no right or wrong. Only survival. Power. Pleasure.
I grip his neck in both hands and pierce his skin with my fangs, releasing blood that practically effervesces with all of the forms of physical and emotional pain he’s experiencing. There’s light in him, too. I can’t feel it, but I know it’s there, waiting to embrace him as he passes.
I wish I could steal that from him, too.
Energy surges through me, void so heavy and black that it will surely smother every shameful scrap of fire that remains in me.
The human struggles, and Lachlan laughs as I tighten my hold. “We are death and destruction,” he says. “We crave pain and fear because they are our purpose, Ava. Your purpose.”
I barely hear his words, but they echo through me as I draw strength from that pain and that fear. I am falling, losing my old self, finding something more real.
The void, pure and untainted, washes through me. For a moment, there is nothing but perfect darkness.
And it is so damned good.
17
Lachlan hasn’t spoken a word to me since he took the human’s life and left the body lying on the cold floor of the interrogation room. This is probably a good thing. His breath will smell like blood, and the urge to taste it mixed with his venom might be too much for me to resist. We’re heading back to his rooms, and I’m determined to make it that far before my excitement gets the better of me.
The void isn’t just lifting me up now. It’s crashing, thundering, tearing through me, washing away everything else. I didn’t kill, but I feel as good as if I had. My power responded to the anguish in that human, leaving no doubt that this is what vampires are meant for.
I doubt lower vampires often get to experience this. I don’t care whether it’s unfair. All I care about in this moment is preserving my access to it.
“What did he say to you?” Lachlan asks as we pass the security vampire at the bottom of the stairs.
It takes me a second to reorient my thoughts—the human? Daniel?
Then I remember. The asshole whose nose I broke earlier tonight.
“He insinuated that I’m your plaything.”
Lachlan unlocks the door, and we step into his sitting room. No humans here tonight.
“And why did that upset you?”
I accept the drink he offers me—Scotch that burns pleasantly as I let it rest on my tongue. “It’s insulting to be thought of as a possession.” I down the rest in one gulp. “Not to mention the fact that he said he’d like a turn with me when you’re done. Is that what this is? Am I a toy you’re going to use and then discard when the novelty has worn off? Just so I know.”
So much rides on his answer. As Ava, I know that becoming a part of this world would be so much easier than the constant battle I’ve fought against myself since the night I died. But even she won’t let it happen if he’s going to use her—me—as Miranda did, making me a scapegoat and then assuming I’d continue to serve her.
I’m better than that, and I deserve more.
Lachlan sips more slowly than I did, then sets his glass on the mantel before stepping closer. “I don’t see you as a toy. I see you as a weapon. A tool. A powerful asset.” He trails a hand down the bodice of my dress to rest on my hip. “But that vampire wasn’t wrong. I’m drawn to you. I would very much like to keep you close for more personal reasons.” He leans in to whisper in my ear. “Would you resent me if I said I wished to possess you in every way possible?”
A tremor passes through me. Just a few nights ago, it would have been one of fear or revulsion. Now, riding high on my own power and potential and everything I sense in him, it’s another thing entirely.
“Only if I didn’t have a choice in it.”
“Then let’s say you do. You’ve already chosen to make Tempest your clan. If you prove yourself, you will have a home, safety, security, and work that seems to interest you.” He takes my glass and sets it aside, never breaking the intensity of his gaze locked on my eyes. “But you could also choose to be mine. To offer me your body, your mind, your difference. And in return I will offer you power, position, and a front row seat as our enemies fall. The lost princess will become a queen.”
I let myself imagine it, just for a second, before the truth shoves its nose in to ruin the fantasy.
“I find it hard to believe you’d share your power,” I say. Not accusing him of a lie, exactly, but feigning ignorance won’t win me any points with him, either.
I wish I didn’t want to score those points so badly. But as I stand with him, deep underground where light can’t harm us, wrapped in the bittersweet power we share, I do. I want to understand his offer. I want his respect, his adoration, his desire.
For the second time tonight, he seems both surprised and pleased with me. “I’m glad to know you’re not a fool. I will never share my power, nor will I make the mistake of trusting you. But I will offer you everything Maelstrom denied you. You will be seen. Respected. You will know your value and purpose, and you will have a voice.”
A lump forms in my throat. “And will I be free?”
“You will be free when all vampires are free.” He pulls out the pin that holds my hair back and draws his fingers through it. I close my eyes. “When the void rules this world. When humans all know their place and we walk the night without fear of those who are weaker than us. We have a long way to go, but with your power and gifts, we’ll be unstoppable. Do you want that?”
There’s no room here to think of alternatives and consequences as I consider what he’s offering—a world filled with the kind of void power I feel here, pure and unopposed. One where we behave as vampires were created to, taking what’s ours, not denying the thrill of fear or the strength that comes from taking life. And me, no longer left to stumble alone in the dark but a key part of that world.
If I don’t let myself argue against it, the answer is clear.
“Yes.”
Lachlan pulls me closer, pressing his body against mine. My hands find his arms and roam upward, feeling out the physical strength beneath his clothes. His breath on my ear makes my knees weak, and I don’t even have the decency to hate him for it.
“Do you want me, Ava?”
I turn my head and catch his lips with mine. Because in this moment, with my perceptions drowning in his power and his promises in my ear, I do. I don’t love him. Hell, I might still hate him if I let myself think about it. My old self would. He’s everything I’ve stood against since before I had any idea who the enemy was.
But maybe I was wrong all along.
He sweeps my feet out from under me and carries me to his bedroom where I’m glad to find a low four-poster bed as well as his coffin.
He sets me on my feet for long enough to unzip the back of my dress. I shed all of it—the outer fabric, the underskirts, every scrap of cloth that hides my body. I thought being exposed to him would make me afraid, but it feels like liberation.
I reach for the laces of my boots, but Lachlan lifts me again and lays me down on the mattress, letting his eyes wander over my body as he removes his tie and jacket. His movements seem unhurried as his shirt, shoes, and socks follow, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in his eyes.
It’s different from how others have looked at me, though I can’t place how.
The thought passes quickly, easily dismissed as I look over what he’s revealing to me. Lachlan’s position in the clan should allow him to avoid physical labour, but there’s nothing soft or spoiled about his body. He’s big, well built, and brutish beneath the veneer of refinement his suits offer. I wouldn’t want to meet him in the fight ring.
But here, he’s perfect.
He moves closer to the bed, one hand on the waistband of his pants, and motions me closer. I sit on the edge of the mattress, legs spread so he can stand between them. The air in his room is cool where it touches me.
Lachlan’s no more shy about his body than I am mine and watches as I take my turn examining him, pressing my fingers to the planes of his torso before undoing his trousers and letting them fall to the floor. He’s hard. Ready. I take him in my hands and stroke, gently at first, then more firmly. He takes a sharp breath. It’s not enough for me. In spite of my lingering misgivings, I want to prove myself to him in this as much as anything else.
I want to have power over him.
I adjust my position and lean in to trace my tongue over the tip of his cock. He sighs and closes his eyes, but before I can take him more fully into my mouth, he grabs the hair at the back of my head and tugs hard, pulling me away.
His eyes shine like black gemstones as he guides me to lie back on the bed. “I just said I don’t trust you. That goes double for your fangs. At least for now.”
He kisses me again, and the venom on his tongue chases any lingering doubts from my mind. Our hands move over each other’s bodies, exploring and testing. Every part of mine feels as though it’s lighting up under his touch, and it’s like coming alive. There’s no more thinking. Only feeling and wanting.
He slips a finger inside me, then another. I groan, and he smiles against my lips as if he’s drawn first blood in a battle. I don’t care if this means he’s winning. The void moves between us, heightening every sensation. I can’t see exactly what he’s doing down there, but he’s hitting all the right spots.
“Is this what you want?” he asks.
“More.” My voice is hoarse. Pleading. “Fuck me.”
He pulls his hand away and slides it up to cup my left breast. “I’ll fuck you when I say it’s time. Not before.”
Were I with anyone I’ve had before, I’d call him an asshole. Maybe bite him to goad him on. But that won’t work here. He wants me to understand who holds the power—not just in his bedroom, but everywhere.
I’m halfway mad with desire, but I control myself, knowing that obeying is the only way I’ll get what I want. He doesn’t seem to mind me touching him, though, convincing him that he wants exactly what I do.
He’s hard to read. Too quiet even as our bodies tangle together. His control is perfect. No sign of weakness, no hint that he’s baring his true self to me as he has his body. This is a conquest for him, not an offering.
I don’t care. It’s enough of a victory for me when he flips me onto my stomach and uses his knees to spread my legs. I squirm against the blankets, inviting him to take what he wants.
His fingers tangle in my hair again, gripping tightly enough to be painful. “You want too much,” he growls into my ear, then traces his tongue over the softest part of my throat—the place where my pulse would beat if I had one. “It’s weakness, but one I’ll forgive for now.”
He presses himself against me, teasing. I push back, trying to take him into myself, but he pulls away.
Fine. I hate this—letting him control me, becoming his possession instead of his equal—but I understand that he could walk away from this if he wanted to. He is stronger than me, at least in this. I’ll learn to control it someday.
But not tonight. I lie still with an iron grip on the blankets to keep myself from moving.
“Better,” he whispers, and eases his hold on my hair without letting go. “You’re home now, Ava. You belong here. Bow before me, and you’ll have the world at your feet.”
He enters me hard and fast, and I let out something between a groan and a yelp. We’re doing this on his terms, but when I move against him, rising up on my knees and angling my body to take as much pleasure as I can from him, he doesn’t object.
As long as he’s in control, it seems I can have what I want.
And God, did I want this. He fucks hard. Mercilessly. I don’t want mercy, though. I want strength, raw power, pure lust. It’s weakness to show myself so plainly. Still, I don’t hold back the cries that rise from me as the pressure builds, twisting and tightening through my lower abdomen before it bursts through my body, freeing me from awareness of anything else. It seems to go on forever, drawn out by every movement as he searches for his own release.
He grabs my ass hard, digging his fingers into my flesh until the pain overwhelms the receding waves of pleasure. I gasp and try to pull away, but he holds me down, pressing my face into the blankets, forcing my hips down, pinning me beneath him. Real fear grips me, and I squeeze my eyes closed.
And this, it seems, is enough.
Lachlan shudders against me and rests for a moment, his weight pressed against me.
“This is all we get,” he murmurs, then rolls onto his back. I do the same, staring up at the midnight-blue ceiling over his bed, letting the void soothe my bruised ass and injured pride.
This is hardly different from what I’ve enjoyed with others in the past—with Daniel when I wanted nothing more than to see him lose control, with Silas when we insulted and goaded each other into desire, with Taggryn when I asked him to show me how dragons take what they want.
Yet it feels different. Fucking usually leaves me feeling better. Stronger. More sure of myself, more connected to the power and personality of whoever I’ve been with. The creeping emptiness I feel now is…
… Is not something to dwell on. Not here. Not now. Maybe not ever. This is a small price to pay for everything else he’s offering.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Lachlan turns to me. Whatever I feared in him is gone. All that’s left is his rough beauty and perfect control. “This world is all we vampires get. The humans we feed from have their light and something to look forward to after we’ve released them, but there’s nothing for us after we’re gone.” He turns back onto his side and brushes his fingers over my stomach. In spite of his sombre words, he sounds satisfied. “The only heaven we’ll ever see is the one we create here for ourselves. Pleasure. Pain… We take what we want, knowing that now is all that matters. Do you see that?”
“I think so.”
He hears the hesitation in my voice, though, and takes my chin in his hand, forcing me to look into his eyes. “But?”
Shit. “But what about those we take from—the lower vampires who don’t get to experience what we do, or those who lose in the ring?” Daniel’s team comes to mind, as do the Agonites and the formerly shut-in vampires of Maelstrom, but it’s become so easy to shut out thoughts and memories that don’t serve what I need to believe. “What about those who don’t have the kind of power we have? Where’s their heaven?”
“They would take what you have from you if they could, and treat you worse than I suspect you’ll ever choose to treat them.” Lachlan smooths my hair back from my face. It’s not an affectionate gesture, but possessive. It feels good, though. Being his might not feel like true freedom, but it’s safer than being on my own. Lying here with his incredible power mingling with mine makes me feel like nothing could possibly harm us. “Self-interest is not a sin, and other vampires’ weakness is not your responsibility. You owe nothing to anyone but yourself.”
“And to you?”
He smiles. “Naturally.”
I want to object and say that I do owe debts to those who helped me when I wasn’t this strong, but I struggle to remember why. It’s true that others have helped me. But it’s also true that they wanted something from me. Their best interests aligned with mine.
Or so I thought. What if that was wrong? What if I’ve been a fool to care so much when the truth is that this dark, beautiful world will eat me alive if I don’t learn to put myself first?
It makes so much sense that I don’t know how it took me so long to understand it. I’ve been seeing the world as I wished it was. Refusing to grow up and face reality.
I sit up and pull my knees to my chest, suddenly feeling exposed. “You have an interesting approach to pillow talk.”
“I believe I called you a piece of my personal heaven. Seems appropriate to me.” He rests a hand on my arm. “But you’re right. I do have concerns that we need to discuss even if th
e timing seems strange. You still hesitate to take what’s rightfully yours. You were conflicted about those humans, weren’t you? At least until you decided to allow his blood to prove me right.”
I don’t even want to lie to him anymore. “A little. At least, I felt like I should feel conflicted.”
“Poor Ava,” he says, though without a trace of true empathy. “You’ve had your wings clipped so early and so often that you’re afraid to fly.”
Tears blur my vision until I blink them back.
What would happen if I let myself truly fall, letting go of notions of love and loyalty that have only hurt me, accepting everything he’s offering? A week ago, I’d have sworn it would never happen. Now I wonder whether I might finally have a chance to spread my wings and soar.
Wasn’t that the plan when I turned Daniel away before he came here? Did a part of me know even then that love really was the anchor everyone warned me it was?
Suddenly, everything is too much—the dim lights, Lachlan’s hand on my skin, even the void itself. It all sounds right in my mind, but there’s still something holding me back. I press my hands to my face.
I can’t think about anything properly here. Not with Lachlan and his clan watching me, judging every word and movement as I suppress thoughts of everything that brought me here. Even my room isn’t enough privacy when the collected power of these vampires pulses through the place, lulling and numbing me.
But there’s no way out of here without his permission.
If I want something, I have to get it by giving him what he wants.
“I’m having trouble letting go of the past,” I admit, hoping he’ll follow the trail of breadcrumbs I’m about to lay down. “I’ve done as you asked. I’ve opened myself to all that Tempest has to offer, and I’ve seen how good it is. How right it feels. It’s made me regret old loyalties and question my beliefs about what I owe to the world. But there’s still something holding me back. I need to bury my old self if I’m going to be free to become what you say I could be.”
