Fated In Secrets (Nocturne Vampire Clan #2)

Chapter 5

5

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H ouse Arcanis were, as usual, a bunch of fucked up, arrogant pricks.

And Lady Fiona was coldly formal when she welcomed me to House Drakeheart, telling me—politely, of course—to fuck off, but I left both estates certain they weren’t harboring our enemies.

But House Morvayne turned me away at the gates, so I’d be going back tonight with Nash to dig deeper. Ask some questions. Cloaked in my shadows, we’d ferret out Collum and Valaine, and, if Lord Morvayne was sheltering them, he’d be executed.

I landed back at Markham Hall and laced my hands behind my neck, bowing my head beneath the weight of everything gone wrong. A king who refused to lead, allies who could not be trusted, a mate beyond my reach.

I allowed myself one weak moment. One. Then took a breath. I would do what I always did.

Fix everything that was wrong.

The family gardens were overgrown, stained statues condemning me with empty eyes as I strode through my once-grand family estate, each angry step ricocheting off the high stone walls. These gardens had once been beautiful, filled with flowers and laughter.

My sister’s favorite place. My favorite place .

Silence wrapped around me like a funeral shroud, thick and heavy, as if the manor was a hollow shell, lined with memories I could never shake.

But I had to fix this. I had to make Riordan care. I had to make our allies stand with us, and most of all, I had to get my mate back. And until that happened…my head wouldn’t be fully in the game.

Because my thoughts—every fucking worthless one—were focused on this never-ending bloodlust devouring me from the inside out. Unraveling my sanity.

Two weeks ago, everything I’d ever wanted was in my reach.

Now my future was slipping away, like trying to cage moonlight in my hand.

I was hamstrung by my own king’s wishes, and Evangeline was caught in the middle. I couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t talk to her. Couldn’t fucking love her.

While Riordan…was feeding her. Touching her. Probably fucking her.

I dug my knuckles into the gaping wound where my heart used to be, every inch of me raw and wanting and that was when it happened.

My shoulders rolled forward, stomach cramping as another crushing wave of want assaulted me with the force of a hammer. Too long I stayed wrapped in bloodlust’s merciless chokehold, hunger squeezing me into a twist of whimpering ravenous flesh.

Bloodlust was biology at war with my head, logic and rationale overcome by basic, animalistic greed. The kind of hunger that carved out respect and love and restraint, and turned me into the sort of monster who would kill his own mate by draining her dry .

I came out of this seizure shaking, curled on the ground, every muscle bound up in terrible, ravenous hunger.

They were getting worse, not better.

Longer, not shorter.

And when I looked around me, my heart stuttered.

Everything for a hundred yards was flattened, ruined, tendrils of shadow drifting away, the air around me thick with the strong scent of spent magic. I’d destroyed the gardens.

Fuck. I was a fucking walking disaster.

Every much of a threat as Collum, or Valaine or the fucking Silverwoods.

Thank God I was alone here at Markham, where I couldn’t harm anyone. I’d retreated to this place, because I never knew when one of these episodes would turn me into a walking time bomb. I crouched down, laid my hand over the smoking ground, let the residual magic blister my palm.

I embraced the pain, let suffering bring clarity, show me a path forward.

Somehow, I had to reverse this curse, get my mate back, and help Riordan save this clan, and I had to do all of that while keeping everyone safe from a looming threat I couldn’t even find.