My head spins and my pants become tighter around my cock.
That was an unexpected reaction if there ever was one. I’ll admit the witch is attractive . . . enough. But she is not my type. I prefer my women blonde, buxom, and submissive. Of those three qualities, she possesses none.
I squash the hormonal instinct quickly as my hand wraps around her throat. “How dare you walk away from your prince? What makes you think I will allow such an action?”
The witch gasps for breath. Remembering that I have already knocked the air from her, I loosen my grip slightly, and she sucks in a thin stream of air.
“Hmm?” I hum, making sure she knows I am still waiting for her answer.
Her lips part, and slowly, she forces out thin, airy words. “What makes you think I need your permission?”
I growl low in my gut and extend my fangs.
The witch begins to tremble, and her submissive body language is exactly what I desire. I’m seconds away from claiming her neck for myself when the witch does the unthinkable.
She spits in my face.
A roar rumbles from my lips, and I rear back, intent on ripping out her throat, when massive, manly hands grip me from behind and hurl me backward.
I fall to the ground and immediately rebound, only to find six silver-tipped stakes pointed straight at me.
“Apologies, Prince Talon,” one of my royal guards says from behind the wall of prison guards holding weapons. “We cannot allow violence inside the penitentiary.”
My eyes scan the prison guards. Unlike my royal guards, they do not look sorry. In fact, a few of them appear happy to have brought down a prince.
I will not give them the pleasure. I snort as if I knew all along that they would come after me. “Of course not. I’m afraid I allowed the witch’s blood to get to me. I suspect that means my feeding allotment will need to be upped. No one wants a prince on a blood rage war path, after all. See to arranging additional feedings.”
Someone mutters that they will do as I wish, but I am barely paying attention to them. Behind the guards, I hear shuffling, then footsteps. The witch is being led away from me.
She’s gotten away, but at least I made my power and superiority over her clear. Judging by the fear in her eyes, I doubt she will show me such blatant disrespect again.
And if she does, I will not hesitate to put the Borges rebel in her place.
5.
Skye
The asshole tried to kill me.
I kick the cement wall as a guard slams the door to my cell shut.
And now he’s gotten me locked up hours before nightfall. That little princeling shit.
My arms tremble, I’m so mad, and I want to punch something. As my bedding is the only thing not made of cement or metal, I stride over and go to town on my pillow.
It’s not as interactive as fury sparring with my brother, Blaise. And the pillow is not as satisfying a target as the prince’s symmetrical face either, but it will have to do.
After a few minutes of releasing my anger, I feel drained. It’s unusual for me to experience weariness so early in the day, but I suspect the adrenaline that coursed through me when Talon nearly ripped out my throat is plummeting fast.
I recline back on the bed, shifting to get more comfortable. Unfortunately, nothing ever makes this bed comfortable, so after a few minutes, I give up and stare at the ceiling.
What am I going to do about the Tenebris prince?
He’s only been here a day, and already he’s threatened me three times. My elemental powers are bound, leaving me defenseless against a vampire who still possesses super strength, speed, and fangs that are sharp as hell. I could try to use my mental powers, but that is risky.
Too risky.
I’m still deep in thought about how to proceed when my body gives in to the rush of exhaustion crashing over me, and sleep takes me.
SKYE? SKYE?
My eyes flutter open at the sound of my sister’s voice. I sit up and look around, perplexed by the room I find myself in.
Skye? Did something happen? Are you in a new cell? Where are you?
I suck in a breath and pull the thread of mental magic I need to converse with Misty from its hiding spot deep within me.
Sorry, Mist. I just woke up. Didn’t realize it was time for your visit.
There’s a pause. Just woke up? It’s eight in the evening.
Gods, I slept most of the day away. Briefly, I wonder what others must think. That I ran and hid from Talon? My stomach rolls at that idea.
I had a rough encounter with our most recent resident, Prince Talon Tenebris, and passed out after, I tell my sister, who I know will not simply accept the idea that I slept for the whole day.
Excuse me?! Prince Talon? The bad-boy prince?
I snort. The bad-boy prince? He wishes.
Upon my sister’s insistence, I run through the tale. Misty doesn’t interrupt, but when I finish, she has about a million questions, most of them revolving around my surety that the prince did not bite me.
When she’s positive I’m unharmed—save for my ego, which I suspect is irreparable—she pauses and hums.
The hairs on my arms lift. I know that hum. Misty is about to share an idea that will rock my world.
What are you thinking?
Misty chuckles, and I can picture her smiling, one side of her lips lifted slightly higher than the other.
My heart thuds at the image. If I can’t figure out a way out of here, I may never see her again. Gods, if I never escape, I hope I don’t forget what she looks like.
After that story, I’m not sure you will like it, but have you considered trying to befriend the prince?
My whole body tightens. Befriend him? Did you miss the part where I said he nearly ripped my throat out?!
Absolutely not, she replies. It’s just that the Tenebris forces have grown stronger. As a result, we’re losing fighters faster. If you can get a prince on our side, maybe we can mitigate their advancements.
He’s an ass, I retort. He won’t help us.
There’s another pause, and my stomach clenches tighter. I can’t believe what Misty is saying. And because I can read her pauses, I’m aware that whatever comes next, I’m probably not going to like it, either.
I wasn’t sure where he was sent, but supposedly, he’s in prison for a crime his father actually committed, she says, which gets my attention.
The sad look on the prince’s face flashes in my mind. If the rumors are true, why is he hiding it? To protect his father?
If that’s the case, Misty continues, oblivious to the thoughts I do not allow her to hear, perhaps he’s not feeling very sentimental toward daddy dearest. Maybe there’s room to sway his loyalties. We can always use a strong vampire on our side, Skye.
She’s right. There are few vampires in the rebellion, and whenever more join us, it boosts morale. Plus, vamps are unsurpassable at stealth missions.
Still, I cannot see Talon and I being friends, let alone working together to change the world.
I’ll let you know. First, I have to survive the week with him, I say, unwilling to commit to Misty’s plan.
Please, Skye. Just give it a try.
I fall silent, which, where Misty is concerned, is as good as a promise. I never could let her down.
Even with the strong possibility of death hanging over my head.
6.
Talon
I cannot stop thinking about the insolent witch. Skye Borges has made a massive mistake.
No one spits in my face, least of all a witch from a rebel family. Only the prison guards stopped me from leaping on her and ripping her throat out as she marched off. Not just with their strong grasps, but their reasoning too.
Making a threat and a show of superiority is one thing, but had I actually killed the witch, the guards would be obligated to bring my case to the regional marshal.
Marshal Angelica is my aunt, and she despises me. It would not surprise me if she took the
witch’s side over mine, just to spite my father—the brother who stripped her of her co-rule over North America.
The joke would be on Angelica. Despite my many attempts to gain my father’s respect, he barely notices me. I suspect he likes me little more than her.
Although I’m pleased not to be meeting with Auntie, I’m still fuming over the encounter with the witch as I burst through the prison door and make my way to my cell.
I would have preferred to stay in the prison yard, but everyone watched as Skye walked away from me, and tracked my every step afterwards. It’s distracting and infuriating.
I can’t have that. I need solace to plan my revenge.
The guards, both prison-supplied and royal, follow me to my cell like little ducklings. I suspect that at least half of them worry I am going to follow the witch. When I turn the opposite direction from where the other inmates live, one of them even sighs in relief.
I roll my eyes. The guards are such fools. I may not be able to compel them or bend them to my will while incarcerated, but should I have wanted to, no one would have stopped me from pursuing the witch.
No one, that is, except the person I find in my cell, perched on the edge of my bed.
Clearly none of the guards knew to expect company either, because three of the prison-assigned vampires reach for their weapons as we enter my large, private cell. Lucky for them, one of my royal guards holds out a hand, stopping them from making an idiotic mistake.
“Father. It’s good to see you,” I say and try to mask my shock.
The king of North America looks out of place here. His face is powder white, as was preferred in eighteenth-century Europe, but his clothing is modern and luxurious. The combination results in a gleaming creature that, in the bleakness of a cement prison, looks like a diamond amongst rubble.
“To what do I owe this surprise?” I ask.
My father rises and comes to me with open arms, as if he is not the very reason I’m in this infernal place, serving his time.
“Talon, my boy,” the king says, and from the timbre of his tone, I can tell that he’s using compulsion on the guards. Perhaps so they will not hear what he’s saying, or more likely so they will not remember. “Please take a seat. Let us chat.”
The muscles in my face tense.
Chat? Father rarely wants to hear my voice, but chat? He reserves that for Kerian and Elisabeta only.
“Sit,” he commands, sounding much more like himself.
I do as he says with only a brief glance back at my guards. Their eyes are all glazed over—even the palace-assigned men. Whatever Father is about to tell me, they won’t recall a thing.
“How have you been?” Father asks.
I cannot believe what is happening. There’s no way he’s here to check on me—his lesser son—the mistake who survived the change from human to vampire only because his older siblings helped in secret. Especially considering I’ve been locked up for little more than a day. But his motive is not clear enough for me to do more than answer.
“Fine,” I say.
“I’m glad to hear that.” Father taps his fingers on his knee. “I’ve heard word that you’re not the only prisoner of a distinguished bloodline in here. Have you run into any others?”
My chest tightens. I’ve not met many other inmates, nor do I believe that I will. Most of them fear me, and I like it that way. But the witch I just met fits his description.
I clear my throat. “In fact, I have,” I admit, all too aware that he can easily discover the humiliation I’ve just endured.
“The Borges witch?” Father asks.
“Yes.” I sigh as the point of his visit becomes clearer. “I’ve interacted with her twice.”
“Splendid,” his thin lips curl upward, lips that would look weak and worm-like if he was a human, but somehow suit his angular, vampiric face. “I’m sure that it did not go well, given our families’ histories. However, I wish for you to change that.”
“Excuse me?”
“There’s been an uptick in rebel attacks since Skye Borges has been incarcerated, and I want to know why. . .Then I want to know when the next ones are, so we might make an example of those who support the rebellion.” Father lays a hand on mine, and his face becomes the picture of solemnity. “I’ve journeyed here because we have a great opportunity to change the course of our nation—and you, my son, could be the crux.”
“What are you asking of me?”
“I would like for you to seduce the Borges girl. Make her want you and confide in you.”
My mouth twists in disgust. Seduce the witch who showed me no respect?
Father’s eyes narrow, and he removes his hand from mine. “I can see that you do not wish to follow my command. For the life of me, I cannot fathom why. I’ve seen photos of the girl. She is not altogether repulsive.”
“Then why don’t you head down to her cell and seduce her yourself?” I shoot back.
Father tuts and shakes his head. “My boy, I can do no such thing. I just exerted much influence to rid you of the wretched prison guards—cretins that answer to Angelica. From this point forth, only be royal guards will escort you.”
“Wonderful,” I mutter.
“Are you saying you do not wish to enchant the witch?”
“How perceptive of you, Father.”
The king’s hand slams against the wall, and he rises to look me dead in the eye.
“Why don’t you just compel her?” I ask as we stand face-to-face. “You’re here, with power over everyone, a fact you never let me forget.”
He snorts in a rather unroyal fashion. “Of course I can do as you say. However, if I am seen by anyone, it would be yet another smear on the face of our dynasty. And we have had too many of those as of late.” Father arches a brow. “You are already in prison with the witch. Convenient timing, one might say.”
“I do not want to.”
“I have noted your opinion,” Father says, as if listening to me is the most annoying thing in the world.
It is a tone that would kill my brother Kieran, but me? I have heard it almost since the day I was reborn a newblood. I am well-used to Father being disappointed in me.
“As your sire, I could make you do as I wish, but I will not. In fact, I will offer you a boon to sweeten the deal.”
I try not to show my curiosity. To reveal any sort interest is to give my father an advantage, and he has too many of those as it is.
“Is this boon related to reducing the time I am here, serving your sentence?”
“It might be,” Father replies, ignoring the derision in my tone. “What’s more, I could see that your marshalship is much more prestigious than planned—verging on the power that your older siblings will inherit. And you will not have to work under Head Marshal Angelica at all.”
My eyes widen for the briefest of moments before I catch myself. Unfortunately, Father notices, and a smirk grows on his clever lips.
“I see that appeals to you. Understandable, where my sister is concerned, but I’ll be honest—I did not realize that you yearned for such power.” He tilts his head in appraisal.
“Yes,” I say, unable to deny that having more power in my family, country, and life is appealing. Especially if I do not have to work under my cruel aunt. “And all I must do is get the Borges girl to squeal out her secrets?”
Father’s lips twist in the proudest smile he’s ever given me. “Precisely.”
7.
Skye
More people have spoken with me since yesterday’s incident in the prison yard than in the past month. A few have told me they had family members murdered by the Tenebris dynasty. Still more revealed that they are in prison because of some stupid law implemented by the royals.
None of their stories surprise me.
Why would they? The vampire monarchs are beyond powerful, and we, the people, are guilty of giving them that power.
After the humans tried to blast themselves to smithereens, the Tenebris famil
y swooped in to save the day. In the decades since, they, alongside seven other vampire monarchies, have built worldwide empires.
To hear the old-timers tell it, the vampires who emerged from the shadows after the human doomsday convinced everyone of their goodwill. Their seductive, gleaming smiles and magical, healing blood only worked to enhance their claims.
One drop of vampire blood can heal a wound inflicted from a bombshell. Since hundreds of millions of humans were injured during the doomsday bombings, they dearly needed vampire blood.
Soon enough, the humans—who still outnumber the supernatural—realized that they owed the vampires. Bit by bit, they turned their power over to the saviors of the planet, until no one but vampires held it.
Now here we are, the entire planet living beneath dystopian vampire rule. It has become the new normal on Earth, although my family has never viewed it as such.
And although people all over the world know of the underground rebellion my family orchestrates, few have ever seen that defiance up close and personal. Apparently, until I stood up to Talon, that also applied to those inside this very prison.
While many of the incarcerated might not be willing to join me in the fight, most find my dissent heartening and applaud my guts. I thank every one of them, even though what I’ve done is terribly stupid.
Talon and I will be in close quarters for as long as he is here, and I’m a bound witch. It is only a matter of time until he takes his revenge.
I try not to dwell on that as I turn blind corners and enter unlit rooms, perfect places for a vampire to leap out and plunge his fangs into my neck. I do my best not to think about the fact that I’m as defenseless as a human. Or how unlikely it is that anyone will help if I’m attacked.
Ignoring these worries is almost impossible. And yet, I have pushed everything related to Talon from my mind when I enter the dining hall the next day, and catch the royal himself, holding a small wolf-shifter up by the neck.
My fists clench. His guards—royal ones, as indicated by their scarlet attire—are standing a fair distance away, against the wall. It’s clear that they will let him do as he wishes. I notice that no one else looks his way either. If I didn’t know that Talon’s powers of compulsion had been stripped as prison protocol dictates, I would assume he has compelled the whole room.
Hearts of Darkness: A Valentine's Day Bully Romance Collection Page 89
