“Shall I remove them, mistress?” Sebastian murmured, his body vibrating with tension as he kept a cautious eye on the pair. His hands were tensed against the table, his knuckles white where he still gripped his pencil.
Draven scoffed, as though he wasn’t afraid of Sebastian, but I could practically hear his teeth grinding together as he fought to refrain from sharing any commentary. Well that was good to note—the twins were protective of each other. While it was always an asset to have allies, it was something my own people could turn against them if they noticed it. Familial bonds were relevant to vampires, but most of us were independent. We acknowledged our family members as being of the same blood and usually avoided feuds between ourselves for that reason, but our own lives tended to take precedence. It could be a lonely way to live and, for the briefest of moments, something akin to jealousy flared in my chest as I watched the twins together, their eyes holding a silent conversation that spoke of their bond.
“They’re fine, Sebastian,” I purred, running my finger over his wrist. His shoulders stiffened but he didn’t pull away from me. That was something at least. Draven and Crowe settled back into their seats, though Draven still continued to stroke the handle of his knife like it was the skin of a lover. I ignored them, focusing again on Sebastian’s notes. “Your work is very clear. I’m impressed.”
“You haven’t worked together before?” This time it was Crowe who spoke up, though there was no clear taunt in his voice the way there had been in his brother’s.
“I came into my mistress’s service only just before you entered her chambers,” Sebastian ground out. “This is a learning period for us.” I heard the sharp inhales of breath at his free speech, but I sent a beaming smile to Sebastian.
“Well done, pet,” I praised, tucking my hair behind my ear.
Crowe’s eyebrows were raised as he glanced between us, his eyes sharp as he attempted to assess our relationship. “I guess that would be why no one forewarned us of your pet when we asked about you.”
“I’ve never taken a pet before.” Sebastian hissed at my statement, though his expression remained flat and his eyes stayed glued to the page in front of him. “It was never something I was inclined to do before Sebastian.”
Draven snorted. “Yet you call us barbarians. We don’t have slaves.”
I growled, my lip peeling back to expose my teeth. “I’ve warned you,” I snarled at him. “My patience with you is quickly wearing thin. You have no place to judge me. Many of your kind beg for pets, as you well know.”
Draven’s chin lifted, one hand rippling with magic and the other grasping the dagger. As if any of those would help him. “It’s slavery, pure and simple. No true blood witch keeps a pet.”
“No, you only use the blood we have received from eating humans as meals,” I spat at him, my teeth aching with a need to bite him. Who did this man think he was to come here and judge me? He knew nothing of who I was, nothing of who my people were, yet he considered himself higher than me. “Our family meals are littered with witches who laugh as they play in the blood they gather. Who enjoy torture even more than my kind, claiming it strengthens the magic. Who beg for pets whose blood they think is strongest.” I didn’t bother getting up, merely lifting my chin to stare into his dark eyes in challenge.
“That’s not quite what Draven meant,” Crowe interjected, his hands up in a supplicating gesture, although the muscle in his cheek was twitching. Was he suppressing an emotion or simply trying to swallow back the words he wanted to say? I pondered his reaction, even as Draven turned his head away from me.
“I’m sure if you allowed your pet to speak his mind, he would agree with me,” Draven muttered. “Just as I’m sure if you stopped hiding behind your title, I could have you begging for freedom.” His threat raised goosebumps on my skin, but not in the way he had intended. Now, that was interesting…
“Sebastian is free to speak his mind in my chambers, as he has already been told.” I kept my tone even as I arched a brow at the sulking witch who was tracing the words of the book in front of him. “If he chooses not to respond to you, that is his choice to make.”
Draven barked a laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Some choice. Say what his mistress wants or risk becoming a meal. Really free.”
“As opposed to saying what you and your witch friends want or becoming fodder for a spell?” Sebastian hurled the accusation at Draven, his chest heaving as he glared at the other man, his blue eyes snapping with fury, a flush of color tinting the gold of his cheeks. “Is that the freedom of which you speak? How about the freedom of other witches? Ones who are ill or whose power wanes or who bear human children? The ones considered fair game since they can’t fight off those stronger than them?” Poison leaked from every word Sebastian snarled as he glared at the twins. Their dark eyes were wide, their mouths gaping in mimicry of each other as they stared at my furious pet. “Vampires at least have the excuse of being a different species than us. You witches are simply power hungry and think that having magic running through your veins makes you superior to everyone else. You think that allows you to turn your back on your own kind.” Sebastian took a deep gulp of air before bringing his attention back to his book, his shoulders rigid as he glared at the page in front of him.
“Well said, pet,” I murmured, stroking my hand down his hair. He flinched slightly under my touch, but his breathing slowly evened out as I continued the ministrations.
“I believe my brother and I should take our leave for the night,” Crowe said softly, his gaze never leaving Sebastian’s bowed head. Draven growled and stalked from the room without a proper farewell, the door slamming shut behind him as Crowe pushed to his feet. “I thank you for the use of your library.” Crowe sketched a small bow. “I hope you are amenable to us returning tomorrow. I am aware of your mealtimes and will happily work around them.”
I inclined my head in a nod. “You may return as long as Sebastian or I are within these walls. You may not enter otherwise.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” Surprise slammed into me, running across my face for the briefest of moments at his use of my title. He turned for the door, hesitating with his hand on the knob before turning back to look at me. “I will speak to Draven before we return. I apologize for the contention this evening, especially when you are doing us a favor by allowing us access to your library.”
“You both need to heed my warning.” A flush of anger tinted his cheeks, but he inclined his head at my advice.
“Draven is new here. He is not aware of the intricacies of diplomacy. I will ensure his behavior is controlled with you in the future if you can forgo punishing him for the day.” Crowe’s shoulders were stiff underneath his shirt, his mouth a sharp line on his face as he forced the words from his lips.
“I may at some point bite him for his attitude” —no matter how hot it made him, I added silently to myself— “but killing a witch is not high on my list. I would much rather focus on my work than deal with the intricacies of handling a witch’s death. Most of my kind will have no issues with torturing him for his disrespect. He needs to learn quickly, or at least learn to only speak his mind in his own chambers. Even then, you never know who may be listening.” Crowe bowed again, unable to reply to my counsel, before he left the room, letting the door close softly behind him.
“You didn’t maim them.” Sebastian’s comment was quiet, and I turned to meet his eyes.
“They’re witches. Most are too full of themselves for their own good.” I considered the stack of books I still had to go through versus the hunger I could already feel gnawing in the pit of my stomach. The hunger was one of the worst parts of being a vampire. It was constant, only relenting for short periods after our meals. I didn’t like being controlled by anything, let alone my own body. I tried to delay the hunger for as long as I could, hoping, despite evidence, that I could train my body to do without. “If I took the time to bite them all into submission, I’d never get the taste out
of my mouth.” I shuddered at the idea. The witch blood I’d had in the past had been foul and far from fulfilling. His lips turned up in a quick smile, shifting him from adorably appealing to flat out sexy, and I swallowed as a new type of hunger tore its way through me. We’d been working for hours together since my return from dinner, and I could still taste his blood in my mouth, the rich flavor a heady tease. I wanted another taste of him, to drink deep until this burn inside of me was soothed.
Sebastian’s eyes widened, his pencil dropping to the desk as he took in my famished expression. “You’re hungry.” His words were a whisper as he shifted in his seat, his gaze not leaving mine.
“I am.” There was no point in denying it. I knew my eyes would be darker now, my fangs extended in preparation for tearing into skin. I could hear his heartbeat speed up, see the way his chest pumped more rapidly as he watched me, waiting to see what I would demand of him. “But I don’t give into my urges that easily.” He visibly relaxed, his heartbeat slowing. “I’ll feed from you in the morning, after I’ve slept,” I warned, letting him know this reprieve wasn’t forever.
His teeth gritted, but he slowly inclined his head. “Yes, mistress.”
“I prefer my own sleeping quarters, so go to your own bed for now. I’ll call for you if I need you,” I informed him, pushing to my feet and setting my things neatly aside for the next day. “I’ll ring for you in the morning. Come prepared to work. I’ll review everything I’m looking for with you then.” I brushed a hand down the soft silk of my pajamas and headed for my bed as Sebastian moved to the door.
“Goodnight, mistress,” Sebastian said stiffly, bowing deeply as he closed the door behind him.
I swallowed, fighting the hunger that made me want to call him back, to order him into my bed for me to sate all the desires plaguing me. But I wouldn’t. Not today, at least.
Chapter Three
Crowe
“That, that vampire,” Draven snarled, slamming his fist into the wall of our bedroom, shattering the wood. I murmured a spell on instinct, the wood popping itself back into place, the splinters sliding back together again as though his anger had never been unleashed on it. Draven didn’t even seem to notice the blood dripping down his hand, landing with soft plops on the floor as he paced.
“She definitely wasn’t what we had been warned about,” I replied dryly, tossing myself down onto the crimson velvet comforter that decorated my bed as I watched my brother. Draven grimaced, too worked up to settle into his own bed across from mine.
“How dare she threaten us. Does she have any idea who we are? I don’t care if she’s some leech princess, we’re the next in line to lead our coven, that’s nothing for her to sneer at.” He kicked at the dark maple nightstand beside his bed, and again I spelled the damage away.
“If you’re going to break things all night, can you stick to one area? It’s a little easier for me to spell the damage away so it’s not discovered,” I remarked dryly, watching him stride across our room. Despite the two of us sharing, our room was a fraction of the size that Elsie’s had been, and no rare books decorated the bare walls. The room was created solely for function, not for indulgence. The deep closet was enough for our clothing, and the built-in cabinetry held most of the supplies we needed for our witchcraft. A small, electronic fridge held the blood we used in our spells, which was a step up from both the spelled cabinets some witches utilized or the bodies of water others of us used in an attempt to keep the blood from rapidly spoiling. The two large beds that dominated the room—mine in crimson, and Draven’s in a midnight blue so dark it was nearly black—were the only real indulgences within these walls. Not that we needed much more than that. Even with its smaller size, there was still plenty of room here for our needs.
Draven huffed, shoving his hair away from his eyes, ignoring the blood that streaked his face as he tugged his dagger from its sheath, flipping it into the air. Ah well, I could heal him too if it came to it, though it wasn’t likely he’d want me to. There was a reason Draven kept away from others... “How are you so calm?”
I shrugged, settling against the mound of pillows behind my head. “She was right.”
“That parasite?” He stared at me as though he didn’t even know who I was, the red lightning in his eyes nearly overtaking his irises as his magic fought to be unleashed, the flicks spiraling his dagger into the air growing more erratic. With Draven around, I never had to wonder how I looked when I was angry. I knew I was a clear reflection of my twin. Would Bran have looked more like Draven or me right now? I pushed the thought away, locking it into the dark recesses of my mind. I couldn’t let myself think of him.
“I would refrain from the parasite talk around any of the vampires here,” I warned softly. “She would have been within her rights to drain you right there and none of our coven could have done a thing in retaliation.”
Draven growled at me, snatching his dagger from the air, heedless of the deep cut he inflicted on himself as he caught the weapon blade down. “We’re stronger than she is!”
Anger began to gnaw at me, and I knew my eyes were crackling with lightning now. Draven was the hotheaded twin, the one unable to make a move without speaking his mind, but it didn’t mean I had no temper. I was simply more careful, because when my temper was unleashed, it was truly a thing to fear. Draven’s madness was hidden behind his brusque behavior, his taunts, even his temper. Mine? Mine was coiled, waiting and watching, and when it was released, even I couldn’t guarantee the outcome. Bran’s had been tempered with humor, even laughing as he killed… I growled, pushing the intrusive thoughts away. “Possibly, not definitely,” I reminded him slowly. “She is the heir to the throne. Underestimate her at your own risk—and at risk to me as well.”
Draven deflated at that, his shoulders sagging as he slid onto his bed, his knife returning to its sheath. I’d have to remind him to clean that later. He worked the laces of his shoes, tossing them aside as he looked up at me. “I’d never let them hurt you in my stead, Crowe.”
“You wouldn’t have a choice, so if you truly don’t want me to become an appetizer, let alone a meal, then you’ll learn to keep your mouth closed.” I began my own routine of undressing as he considered what I said. Although Elsie had made the point earlier, his own pride wouldn’t allow him to hear the truth of it from her lips, it had to come from me. “You’ll need to clean all that blood up,” I reminded him. “Or you’ll be a walking beacon to anyone who doesn’t mind the taste of witch.” Draven merely grunted.
“Do you really think we’ll find anything?” Although his voice was nearly a whisper, I had no trouble hearing him in the silent room. I slid under the covers of my bed, considering his question.
“I hope we do.” There was no hiding the worry in my tone as he settled down into his own bed. We’d been searching for answers for so long now, I sometimes wondered if maybe it would be best to give up. To simply step back and enjoy our lives rather than waste the time we had in a fruitless effort.
“She’s got so many books,” Draven murmured. “So many more than we’ve found before. There has to be something in them that can help.”
“Possibly,” I agreed. “Though if they’re only human or vampire related, I’m not sure how much help they will be.” When the plagues had hit, it hadn’t only been humans who had their history erased. While few witches were vulnerable to the plagues that took humans, we weren’t impervious to the riots and lawlessness that befell the panicked population. Witches were stronger than regular humans, but we were just a miniscule minority. At most, ten percent of the human population displayed witch powers, and of those, not all managed to survive to a majority where they could learn to control them. Our oral histories were frequently lost as they were only passed clan to clan, and many witches chose not to share them with their human offspring, thus allowing said history to die off or be corrupted as the years passed.
“She’s saner than I expected.” Draven’s observation was almost sulky, and
a smile tugged at my lips.
When we had asked around the castle about books and histories, many had pointed us in Elsie’s direction. Although it was clear her position afforded her a modicum of respect among her people, it was also obvious they thought the princess odd at best and insane at worst. Even before we’d been directed her way, we’d heard the whispers about her, about how she didn’t do things like the others, about how she stayed locked in her rooms, rarely eating or indulging in the parties the other vampires took pleasure in. I’d expected an unkempt, matronly woman, one who was teetering on the brink of outright insanity, talking to herself or rocking in place. When she had appeared in front of us after the family meal, it had been impossible to see her under the gore that coated her from head to toe. She’d been a living nightmare, with her teeth and eyes flashing brightly against the rapidly drying blood that coated her like a second skin. Even then she had shocked me, her speech coherent and prideful as she’d told Draven off and strolled regally away. It had been enough to have me second-guessing the whispers of the mad princess, but nothing had prepared me for seeing her amid her books. Her blonde hair had still been damp, but it did nothing to hide the golden shades. Her blue eyes had flashed with both fury and mirth, an invitation in their depths for any who dared to look. Her skin was pure and clear, a light flush under it from her recent feeding, and I’d had to fight back the urge to see if it was as soft as it looked. And her body… even under the loose silk she wore, it had been clear she was lushly curved, the kind of figure a man could fill his hands with as he lost himself inside her. For a moment, I’d been speechless, unable to even prevent Draven from mouthing off or starting a fight as I tried not to swallow my tongue. Or worse, beg to see what she tasted like. I had never been attracted to a vampire before, but even the hint of her fangs had caught me in her spell, the lethal canines making her look dangerous in the best way.
Reign of Nightmares (Blood Throne Book 1) Page 3
