Willing (The Un #1)

23. Chloe

Twenty-Three

Chloe

Asher’s idea of practicing better things turns out to be wringing every ounce of pleasure he can out of my poor body.

His hands and mouth explore me, mapping me out like new terrain. Discovering places that make me moan, squirm, and clutch at him without abandon. No part of me is seemingly forbidden or sacred. Nothing is off limits or taboo. He explores me from the inside out, learning every spot that makes me whimper his name.

And just when I think he’s discovered all my weaknesses, he finds a new one. Using the bond between us against me.

There can be no lies or secrets when all he has to do is look inside me to know what I’m feeling. Even when his fingers delve into that forbidden place between my asscheeks, filling me up when he finally stuffs me with his cock…

He knows how much I like it. How much I like being so full of him, even if I don’t want to admit it.

By the time he finally takes mercy on me and tucks me close to his chest, I’m beyond tired. My eyes slamming shut the second the sun begins to rise in the eastern horizon.

I welcome sleep, desperate for rest.

But my dreams have other ideas.

They start off sweet and innocent enough. At first, it’s mostly Asher talking to me. His words full of longing, love, and hope. He has so much hope for the future, all hinging on me…

Then he’s begging me to wake up.

I feel his fear of losing me. His worries that he did something wrong. His terror that I’m somehow different, and he doesn’t know if it’s good or bad.

Though his fear and terror grow and grow, he introduces me to several others. Others that he thinks of as his children. Being surrounded by them, they ease some of his anxiety, but it’s only temporary.

Then the true horror begins.

The pictures that fill my dream become dark and violent.

I see myself waking up and attacking Asher in a murderous rage. Thankfully he’s strong enough to restrain me. Otherwise, I would have killed him.

If he had been weaker, I would have bathed triumphantly in his blood.

I would have eaten his heart as a trophy of conquest.

Then there is red… so much red. I’m launching myself at a man and ripping his neck open. Blood sprays all over my face before I latch my mouth on his throat.

I gulp greedily, draining him dry.

But my stomach still pangs with hunger.

Another helpless human is pushed my way and I attack him. Draining him until my thirst is gone.

Once my hunger is sated, I attack Asher again, but for a different reason. I attack him to mate with him.

Having proven his power and strength, he’s worthy to be the father of my children.

My dream twists between sex and death.

I kill, I murder innocent humans, then I attack Asher. Forcing him to fuck me until I pass out.

And it goes on for days.

Killing, eating, then fucking until I can’t keep my eyes open

I know I should be ashamed of my actions.

I should be sick and repulsed by what I did. What I’ve become.

But I’m not.

If anything, the longer the dream goes on, the more I begin to remember the thirst .

The way it made my throat ache with a dryness that can’t be quenched with mere water. The pangs of hunger in my stomach that convinced me that I was starving and needed to eat or die.

When an image of a woman’s slender neck flashes in front of me, my eyes snap open, my fangs bared and ready to strike.

But there’s no woman offering her throat for my bite.

There’s only Asher, his face relaxed with the peace of sleep.

I stare at him for a long time, silently urging him to wake up.

To give me what I need.

Deep inside me there’s a craving for something warm and sweet. Something rich and thick that will make the hunger go away.

But he slumbers on. His own exhaustion after taking care of me for so long pulsing through the bond.

Not having the heart to disturb him, I try to wait it out. Sensing that the sun is still up.

I should be asleep, but the gnawing emptiness has taken priority. There will be no more rest until I banish the ache.

Carefully, I extract myself from Asher’s hold without waking him and rise to my feet.

The mattress is still on the floor, the pieces of the shattered headboard scattered near the door.

And somewhere in this house is a heart beating like a thundering drum. Calling me to drink.

I didn’t hear it at first, but now that I do it’s all I can hear.

I pick my way over the broken chunks of wood littering the floor, gracefully and easily avoiding the sharp slivers, and reach for the door handle.

Only to draw back in alarm.

On the other side of the door I can sense a presence. Some unknown new instinct of mine activating without me realizing it.

There’s a vampire on the other side of the door, standing guard. They’re at ease but waiting. As if they’re expecting me any second when they should be sleeping.

Exploring this new instinct of mine, I frown and reach out with it, trying to learn more about this vampire.

Why are they not sleeping with the others?

And there are others… I can feel them now. Their auras pulsing around me like humming vibrations. Filling this house with their strength and powers. Strong echoes of the one I left sleeping in bed.

All are deep in their slumber but the one standing guard.

He alone, besides me, is alert and aware.

Pushing my will through the door, I brush against his aura to learn more, then jerk back like I’ve been slapped in the face.

There’s a wrongness to him, to his presence, that causes everything inside me to clench up with fear and revulsion.

He’s missing a crucial, critical part of his spirit. Like someone ripped out the most important part of his soul.

How he’s even alive, let alone standing, is beyond understanding, and terrifies me on a visceral level.

One should not be forced to continue to exist after enduring that kind of pain… and the fact that it’s even possible… God help me.

Someone should have put him out of his misery long ago.

I’m half-tempted to do it myself. To yank open the door and rip off his head, but the mere thought of touching him holds me back.

Moving away from the door, I consider my options. I could crawl back into bed with Asher and wait for the sun to go down.

The way my hunger is growing, though, I’m pretty sure I’d end up eating myself long before night falls.

No, I need to find a way out of this room. To the heart I can hear beating somewhere below me.

Spinning around in a slow circle, I search for another exit, but only see covered windows that lead outside and a connected, unused bathroom.

None of it gets me to the heartbeat.

There has to be another way. There has to be , my hunger screams at me.

And I know there is, I can feel it swirling with unleashed intensity in the very marrow of my bones. I have the ability and the strength. There’s a way if I only focus enough and concentrate.

I can go anywhere I want to go…

Acting on pure instinct, I take a step forward and the world around me shimmers and blurs.

I move faster than my mind can comprehend.

One step.

All it takes is one little step and I find myself in an entirely different room.

The world rights itself at once and my stomach lurches as I seem to snap into place like a rubber band that was stretched too far.

I take another step to get my balance. Then I take a deep breath and look around.

The walls surrounding me now are made of rough, grainy concrete and there are no windows. It smells like earth, moisture, old blood, and something rotten.

I must be in the basement of the house.

The light in the room flickers and my eyes are instantly drawn upwards. Hanging on a thin chain that dangles from a wooden beam is a buzzing light bulb. Every few seconds it glows brightly then dims before returning to normal.

I stare at the light bulb for too long, the glow and predictable cycle of its defect holding my attention.

Until someone lets out a pain-filled groan to my left.

Jerking my chin in that direction, I see a man strapped down and bound to a metal chair. Arms and legs secured with duct tape and restraints.

The owner of the heartbeat.

I’m gliding, practically floating toward the pulsing ball of life behind his ribs. Each beat sounding like a loud thump on a drum. The primal melody so ancient, so ingrained in me, I can imagine my ancestors slapping their hands on drums made of animal skins in the same rhythm. Calling me to my second purpose.

I must eat .

My fingers curl, wanting to turn into claws, and my gums ache, my mouth filling with salvia. I’ve never been more aware of the fangs in my mouth as the points stab into the soft flesh of my bottom lip. A drop of my own blood hits my tongue, sweet, tempting, but it’s not what I need.

No, I need blood that is not my own to nourish my new body.

I need to drink life to create life.

The man bound to the chair lets out another pain-filled groan as I move toward him. His body shuddering against his restraints.

Then he says something muffled by the duct tape over his mouth that sounds a lot like my name. “Chloe.”

My step falters for a second but I shake my head. The hunger must be playing tricks on me.

Moving forward again, I instantly cover the rest of the distance between us.

My lips peel away from my fangs as I look him over. His clothing is torn and stained with old blood. Bruises bloom and darken his skin.

He’s taken a beating.

His ankles are secured to the legs of the chair with metal cuffs, and duct tape has been wrapped around his legs up to his knees. Wrists secured with cuffs like his ankles, duct tape has been wrapped up his arms up to his elbows. More duct tape and a chain have been wrapped around his middle.

Yet his neck has been left bare and exposed.

He’s completely helpless and at my mercy.

“Chloe,” he moans again as I lean closer, smelling him.

He reeks . He smells not only of old blood but something foul and rotten.

Is he injured? I wonder, thinking perhaps he has a wound that is festering.

If he has an infection his blood could make me sick.

Leaning back, I weigh the risk. Seriously reconsidering drinking from him.

But then my stomach cramps, sending shivers of pain up my spine.

I have no choice.

Damn the consequences.

Holding the breath still in my lungs to fight his smell, I open my mouth once more, ready to bite.

Seeing his impending doom, the man screams behind his duct tape. “Chloe!”

Close to his mouth now, it’s very clear he’s actually saying my name. My hunger isn’t playing tricks on me. Somehow this bound man knows me.

Wrenching my gaze from the smooth skin of his neck, I force myself to look at his face.

Bloodshot eyes wide and wild, he stares back at me.

Then recognition strikes.

Those eyes… I knew a younger version of them in another time.

“Isaac?” I exhale, allowing my lungs to work again.

The man bobs his head up and down, his hair so sticky and greasy it doesn’t move, it clings to his forehead.

My blood running cold and rushing around my body, I reach out, grab the end of the duct tape slapped over his mouth, and rip it off.

“Fuck,” Isaac groans in pain.

Every inch of skin beneath his nose is red, angry, and irritated.

With his entire face exposed now, I rock back on my heels like I was just struck in the chest.

“ What are you doing here? Why are you here? ” I ask, looking him over again and seeing him with new eyes.

They’ve been hurting him. They’ve been torturing him...

Why?

“I’m here because I got caught by some mangy, flea-infested shifters when I was trying to rescue you,” Isaac answers before he moves his jaw from side to side as if he’s trying to work out a kink. “Don’t you remember?”

I start to shake my head but stop, thinking back. All at once, the memories that have been locked up in a box, the memories of how I got here, under Asher’s thumb, are released. Swarming through my head.

Nikolaos. Meeting Asher for the first time. Running with Charity. Calling Isaac.

I relive every moment as I remember them.

The longing and hunger in the shower.

Destroying my room. The phantom arms that comforted me.

Asher using Isaac to get me out of my house.

The promise.

“What have they been doing to you?” I growl, my fingers curling and wanting to turn into claws again.

Isaac looks down at my hands, at my fingers, then his eyes jerk back up to my face, full of apprehension. His Adam’s apple bobs before he licks his lips and asks, “Can we talk about it later?”

I can’t tell if he’s afraid I’m going to hurt him or afraid I might react badly to whatever he has to say, so I nod my head.

Hands going to the cuff on his left hand, I quickly undo it then use my nails to slice into the tape wrapped up his arm.

I almost have all the duct tape shredded when cold fingers wrap around my wrist to stop me.

“Mother, I don’t believe Father would approve,” someone singsongs.

I immediately jerk my arm out of the grip and spin around to see the vampire with white hair and red eyes standing beside me.

My wrist burns where he touched me, the remnants of his aura and broken spirit making mine want to weep in sympathy.

Lifting my arm, I rub at my wrist and hiss at him like I’m a feral cat. “Don’t touch me.”

The creepy white-haired vampire takes one look at me, at my nudity, then tears his cloudy gaze away. Pointedly looking to the side as if he’s embarrassed by me being undressed.

“Forgive me, Mother,” the vampire says, sounding truly remorseful. “I only wish to spare you from Father’s wrath.”

Mother? Father? I scowl at him, truly having no clue who he’s talking about.

I open my mouth, ready to tell him— I’m not your mommy —only to be stopped by a growl coming from the other side of the basement.

“It’s too late for that,” Asher says ominously.

Shirtless, wearing only a pair of dark pants that aren’t even buttoned, Asher stalks toward Isaac and me. The expression on his face furious.

He knows, thanks to the connection between us, what I intend to do, and he’s pissed .

My instincts immediately recognize the danger, but my eyes can’t help but take a second to lovingly eat up the sight of him. Appreciating the work of art God created.

He’s all hard, rippling muscle moving like a well-oiled machine. Heavy muscle I’ve had bearing down on me. Muscle I’ve tasted and explored with my mouth and hands.

The living embodiment of walking, talking, angry menace.

Then I feel it. The magnitude of his aura and power. The strength of it expands and fills the room like a pair of wings snapping out, leaving no room for oxygen.

His presence whips at my skin before slamming into my chest, forcing the air in my lungs out in a gasp.

I take a stumbling step back and nearly fall into Isaac.

Asher’s eyes widen a fraction as I catch my balance, grabbing onto Isaac’s right arm, then narrow with murderous intent.

Stopping a few feet away from us, he tips his head back, showing me the veins throbbing in his throat, and roars, “Don’t look at her!”

Someone snickers behind Asher when the echoes of his roar fade away. Someone I dare not risk looking at as Asher’s chin drops and his blazing eyes come back to focus on me.

“As if we would. Who the hell wants to see their mother naked?”

Someone else makes a gagging noise and then there’s some more snickering, telling me others are in the room. Asher’s children, perhaps…

“Step away from the hunter, Chloe,” Asher grinds out between clenched teeth. His hands balling into fists.

He’s going to kill Isaac .

Even without the bond showing me images of exactly what Asher wants to do—images of Asher ripping Isaac apart, limb by limb, piece by piece, for daring to breathe so close to me—it’s clear Asher has no intention of letting Isaac go without a fight.

A fight I most likely can’t win but must take on, regardless.

I will protect the last living friend I have left with my own life if it comes down to it.

“Hunter?” I ask, blinking my lashes slowly and pretending to be confused. “Oh… you mean my friend . He has a name you know—Isaac.”

Asher’s nostrils flare and his eyes darken with more anger and disbelief.

I smile sweetly at him and give Isaac’s arm a little pat before I straighten and square my shoulders. Not the least bit ashamed of my nudity. In fact, I’m hoping to use it as a distraction that will help me get us out of this mess.

If the others can’t look at me, they can’t stop me.

As if he can’t help himself, Asher’s eyes drop to my breasts. Searing over me and leaving me shivering with heat.

“Chloe,” Asher drags my name out as his gaze caresses over my body. Even at odds with him, I long for more than his eyes. I long for his touch. I long for his hands to grab me and stake his claim.

His eyes swing back up to my face. “ Come to me .”

My foot immediately takes a step forward. The need to please him, to do as he commands and obey, instinctual and branded in the blood pumping through my veins.

Asher smiles, smug and pleased. His hands unclenching in anticipation.

If he didn’t smile that smug smile of his, I’d probably be too weak to resist his compulsion. I’d probably quickly close the distance between us and throw myself at him.

But his own cockiness rubs me raw and brings me back to the moment. Giving me the strength to stop and tell him, “No.”

To make it clear I have no plans to do as he says, I throw his own smug smile right back at him. “You can’t make me.”

“Oh!” someone in the background exclaims. “She didn’t.”

“She did.”

Someone else chuckles.

Asher tightens his jaw and glances over his shoulder in irritation. “The peanut gallery needs to shut the fuck up or get out.”

“Peanut gallery? That’s what you think of your loving, devoted children?”

“Yeah, we’re cheering you on, Dad. Show Mom who’s boss!”

“You might be cheering for him,” another interjects, “but I’m betting she brings him to his knees.”

“Oh yeah? How much you want to bet?”

“A week’s worth of food.”

“Make it a month’s worth and you’re on.”

Taking advantage of Asher’s distraction, I reach down and snap the cuff on Isaac’s right wrist open.

All of Asher’s very being zeros in on me at the click of the cuff, and my muscles tense, prepared to be pounced on.

A split-second before Asher attacks me, the white-haired vampire twirls and dances between us.

“Father, please have mercy on Mother. You know that she’s newly turned and her emotions are high. I’m sure if she was in the right frame of mind, she would not disrespect you,” the creepy vampire pleads on my behalf.

A laugh bubbles up in my throat as Asher rears back and looks at the white-haired vampire in disbelief.

Not passing up another opportunity to free Isaac from the chair, I swipe my nails at the duct tape on his right arm, slicing it open.

“I’m not going to hurt her, Ambrose!” Asher bellows in fury. “I would never hurt her, goddammit!”

Reaching behind myself, my fingers search for and find the chain wrapped around Isaac’s middle. Grabbing the chain, I jerk my arm, snapping it off.

If I can get Isaac’s middle and legs free, I can vanish us out of here. I don’t know where we’ll go, but I’ll figure that out later.

Asher goes deadly still, and I feel him in my head, flipping through my thoughts as if they’re pages in a book, reading everything I’m planning.

A throb of hurt pulses behind my ribs but I shove it away, wishing I could shove it in his face.

Did he not know he was hurting me when he was hurting Isaac? Does he expect me to be okay with him torturing the only person I have left? Skirting around the promise he made me on technicalities?

Asher’s thoughts aren’t as clear to me, they’re dark and murky. Hard to wade through and full of stuff that slows me down. I know he’s hurt and angry, but I have no idea what he’s intending to do to stop me. Somehow he’s keeping me out.

If I could, I’d do the same.

If I could, I’d sever this bond we have in a heartbeat.

“Tear off as much of the tape as you can,” I tell Isaac, watching him out of the corner of my eye. “I’ll try to hold him back. Once you have your legs free, grab onto me and I’ll get us out of here.”

Chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths, Isaac nods his head and gets to work, ripping off the tape wrapped around his chest. He’s been beaten and tortured. His hands are covered in dry, crusted blood. His wrists are red and swollen from the cuffs. Patches of hair have been ripped out of his arms from the duct tape.

But he’s not weak by any means.

The boy of my memories, the sweet boy who spent all his time with me, protecting me from what he could, giving me a reason to live, to endure what I suffered, encouraging me to be strong and go on, has honed himself into a strong, lethal weapon.

A weapon of God.

“I’m going to fucking kill him!” Asher shoves Ambrose out of the way and launches himself at me.

Asher may not want to hurt me, but I won’t be returning the favor.

I have no qualms about causing him pain. I want to hurt him. I want to make him bleed for everything he’s done to Isaac. For everything he’s done to me.

When Asher is nearly within reach, I lash out with the chain, striking him across the chest and kissing his neck with the end.

The thick links of the chain slap against his skin, marking him with red, and he staggers back in shock.

“Chloe…” Asher exhales then looks down at himself.

I hit him hard enough to mar his perfect skin, but not hard enough to break it. Almost instantly the inflamed flesh begins to heal, leaving no trace of what I did.

This makes me furious.

Gripping the chain tighter, I gather it up, forming a loop, and brace for the next attack, ready to slap him across the face.

Why does he have to be so beautiful when I hate him? I want to break his skull. I want to shatter his nose and rip off his chiseled jaw. The desire to destroy him is so strong I struggle to keep my feet in place.

I have to stay between him and Isaac. I can’t give Asher an opening to get around me.

When Asher finally looks back up at me, his eyes are guarded. His thoughts pitch-black and impregnable.

“So,” Asher says as he takes a slow, cautious step to the left. Beginning to circle around Isaac and me as if we’re dancing. “That’s how you want to play, angel?”

Asher moves with a sleek supernatural grace I could only hope to mimic. He’s much more comfortable in his skin, having spent almost a thousand years in it.

Everything is still new to me, and I’m a bit terrified I’m going to slip up. My senses keep trying to latch onto every enhanced sensation I’m experiencing, making it a struggle to keep my attention focused solely on him.

I’ve never been more aware or annoyed by the bottom of my feet as I match him step for step. Every little speck of dirt, every little grain of concrete touching my soles is noted.

I also feel the other vampires in the room, their presence and powers itching at the back my neck. My instincts warn me not to take their current lack of action for granted. At any second, they could jump in and all overpower me, but for now they seem content to wait and observe.

“Play?” I sneer and resist the urge to grip the chain even tighter, afraid I’ll snap it in half. “This isn’t a game, Asher.”

Trying to lure me into a rhythm, Asher completes a full circle and a half around the chair before he makes another grab for me.

More than ready to cause him more pain, I lash out with the loop of chain, cracking him across the arm and shoulder.

Asher jumps back with a hiss this time, and I can’t help but smile. Some of my bloodlust satisfied.

The skin down the middle of his shoulder splits open and weeps tears of blood. I watch as fat drops spill out of the wound and lick my lips. Wishing I could taste it. All too soon, though, the wound knits back together.

“Isn’t it?” Asher asks with a hint of a growl.

He takes a step then quickly launches himself at me again, trying to catch me off guard.

I swing the loop at him, cracking it across his other shoulder. “No! This is not a game, Asher. This is me fighting you for the life of my friend!”

“Friend?” Asher laughs dismissively. I swear he’s doing everything in his power to rile me up even more. “The hunter is not your friend.”

Before I can respond, Asher jumps at me, forcing me to lash out in desperation. I only crack him across the chest, but he dances back.

“He is my friend,” I pant at him, my emotions starting to boil over. “And he has a name—Isaac.”

I’m turning into a broken record, but I hate how he keeps reducing Isaac down to a title, like he’s not a person. Dehumanizing him.

“Very well,” Asher says smugly, “ Isaac is not your friend. Isaac is a fucking abomination that should be exterminated.”

“Abomination?” I scoff at the insult. “You’re the only abomination I see here!”

Asher grins, his eyes glowing brighter as he prowls around the chair. “He’s even more perverted and deviant than I am. Why don’t you tell her what you’ve been doing, Isaac . Tell her why we’ve been bleeding you out for days and purging your body.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Isaac’s hands fumble with the tape he was peeling off around his middle.

“I haven’t been doing anything,” Isaac grumbles, shooting me a furtive glance. “Besides trying to save my best friend.”

My chest squeezes with tightness to hear him call me his best friend, but I can taste the lie in the air. The dishonesty seeping out of his pores despite his expression imploring me to believe him.

He’s clearly been doing something . What, I don’t know, and I’m not sure if it should matter. I doubt whatever he has been doing is any worse than what Asher has done.

No, it’s merely Asher trying to mess with my head. Trying to make me second-guess my actions and intentions.

I won’t fall for his trick.

“Oh, don’t play coy now, Isaac,” Asher purrs. He takes a quick step toward me but slips away before I can touch him with the chain. Chuckling and toying with me. “ Tell us what you’ve been drinking. ”

Isaac tries to fight the compulsion, his body visibly stiffening and hands clenching. But ultimately he’s forced to grit out, “Holy water and… blood.”

My step falters, but I quickly recover. I wasn’t expecting that.

I’m tempted to look fully at Isaac but can’t risk it.

“So what?” I say, bringing my chin up and stiffening my spine. Still standing my ground, even if I’m a little doubtful now.

A ball of apprehension is starting to form in the pit of my stomach. Asher obviously knows something I don’t. Something I probably don’t want to know.

“It’s not like anyone else here hasn’t had our fair share,” I add, more for myself than in support.

Asher laughs at me and speaks my worry out loud. Pounding more doubt into me with every word that hits the air between us. “Yes, we’ve had more than our share, my love, but we’re vampires . It’s what we do to stay alive. A human drinking blood… it’s vile. It’s obscene. They don’t need blood to exist. It’s practically cannibalism.”

I can’t argue with Asher on that, and a flash of fresh anger sizzles through me because he’s right.

My anger only increases when Isaac bends over and begins to hastily work on the cuffs and tape around his ankles and legs.

“I’d really like to know why,” Asher muses out loud. “I mean, I have my suspicions… but first I think Isaac should tell us whose blood he was drinking. Don’t you, Isaac?”

Isaac’s hands pause and he looks up at Asher then shakes his head. His fingers working faster to free himself.

Fear is pouring off him in waves, burning my nose and fogging up my brain.

The primal part of me wants to turn to Isaac, wants to bask in his fear and sink her fangs in his neck.

He is prey.

From now on, he’ll always be prey, and he’ll never truly be safe with me.

Shaking the fog from my head, I glare at Asher. Forcing myself to direct all my anger at him.

Because if I don’t…

“It wasn’t a rhetorical question, Isaac,” Asher says, his own anger bleeding into his voice. “ Stop trying to free yourself and tell us whose blood you’ve been drinking. ”

Isaac jerks as if he was struck and his entire body shakes and shudders violently. His nails dig into the metal of the cuffs, some breaking off, as he rebels against Asher’s order.

It’s all futile though because his spine straightens and his tongue obeys, slurring out my name. “Chloe’s.”

He couldn’t hurt me more if he stabbed a stake through my ribs and cut off my head.

“My blood?” I choke, just the thought of it making me sick. “ You’ve been drinking my blood, Isaac? ”

Isaac shakes his head with a groan, but answers, “Yes.”

Asher acts as if he’s going to pounce on me, and I foolishly fall for the bait. At the last second, he jumps back, causing me to swing at nothing.

When I trip forward, he easily slips around me and slashes Isaac across the face. “Isaac is going to die for his wicked ways.”

“No!” I scream, emptying my lungs as I slide to the side to protect Isaac from more harm.

Unfortunately, my next breath fills me with the smell of human blood. A quick glance at Isaac’s face confirms Asher seriously gouged him. Leaving large gashes across his cheeks and nose that he’s desperately trying to cover with his hands.

A quick glance also costs me the chance of blocking Asher’s next attack. Sliding around my other side with supernatural speed, Asher slashes Isaac across the chest and dodges my delayed swing with ease.

“Yes,” Asher snarls, his eyes glistening with a feral gleam.

I swung so hard, the chain comes down, cracking against my own knee. I growl in pain and try to shake out the ache.

Head tilting slightly to the side, Asher closely watches me, noting my limp as I continue to circle with him, trying to block him.

The next time Asher moves forward, he grabs the chain I’m holding and rips it from my hands. Whipping his arm to the side, he flings the chain away with a look of disgust. “No more chains for you, kitten, until you can prove you won’t hurt yourself.”

Enraged with how Asher’s toying with me, I try to pounce on him, but my hands slice through empty air.

“ Why have you been drinking my mate’s blood, Isaac? ” Asher demands after dodging me, further antagonizing me.

My blood burns as hot as lava as it pumps steam through my limbs.

I want to kill. I want to sink my claws and fangs into skin and rip . I want to shred every existence around me. Tear them into tiny little pieces I can spit .

Isaac makes a gurgling sound, and his answer is muffled with his hands. “Because it gives me strength, powers, and protection from vampires . ”

Everything is falling apart. Everything is going to shit.

And I don’t even know who I’m angrier at—Asher, Isaac, or myself.

I’ve lost complete control of the situation.

If I had any control to begin with.

As if on cue, the back of my neck begins to crawl with unease as the other vampires press closer.

I can feel their fury, their need for justice, directed at Isaac. The air around us crackles with anger and bad intentions.

“ For how long, Isaac ?” I ask, accepting I won’t be able to protect him for much longer unless a miracle happens.

Not from the others, and certainly not from myself.

The need to protect him is cracking under the weight of the need to punish him for betraying my trust.

For so long, he was the only one keeping me together, keeping me moving on. Encouraging me to be stronger, to survive. Convincing me there was a light at the end of the tunnel on my darkest days.

All the while he was secretly drinking my blood.

Was it all a lie? Was it all because he was using me?

“For four years,” Isaac says, and I stop in my tracks.

I’m so shocked I spin around to face him, giving Asher my back.

“ Four years?” I repeat incredulously.

I must have heard that wrong.

“Yes, four years,” Isaac confirms in a hoarse rasp.

“ How do you get her blood ?” Asher asks from behind me.

Instead of trying to take advantage of my distraction, his heat meets my spine.

Isaac and I answer at the same time. “From the sacrament.”

“What the fuck is the sacrament?” Asher asks, gently grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him.

Unable to find the words to explain it, the red haze in front of my eyes making it more difficult to function, I chose to remember it, showing him the images. The whips… the knives… the purging of the taint in my veins in the hope that it would one day cure me.

“Fucking hell…” Asher chokes out and shudders against me. “They did this to you for four years?”

“Yes,” I snarl, ripping my chin out of Asher’s grasp to stare at Isaac. “ Why my blood, Isaac? Why mine? Why didn’t you choose someone else?”

“ I requested your blood at first because… because I care for you… And then… then we discovered your blood was the strongest… your blood gave the most powers and protections…”

The betrayal boils inside me like acid, eating up the last vestiges of my self-control. Destroying the last bit I was holding onto that makes me human.

Everything was a lie. Everything .

No one truly cared for me, they only cared about what they could get out of me.

And I was the fool who believed them. Who trusted them. Who let them steal her life from her.

I bought every fucking thing they were selling, and what did it get me?

Suffering and misery.

No one should be forced to live the way they forced me to live. Locking me up behind four walls and convincing me it was in my best interest. Moving me around so much I never had a friend.

There were no friends to be found in the clergy who kept me at arm’s length. No friends in my countless roommates. Girls who treated me as if I was a leper, a freak, and a burden on their own lives.

Except for Isaac.

Sweet Isaac who texted me every morning. Sweet Isaac who was always reminding me to eat and take care of myself.

How did I not see it? It was staring me in the face the entire time. I thought he was texting me because he truly cared, but he was probably only worried about the strength of my blood.

“ Did you really care for me, Isaac ?” I demand, caught somewhere between a roar and a sob.

Dropping his hands from his shredded cheeks, Isaac looks as if he’s been crying tears of blood. Messy, smeared tears that echo my heartbreak.

“Yes, I cared for you, Chloe,” he says, and I know he’s telling the truth. I’ve compelled him and he can’t lie.

It should be a relief. One person cared for me. At least one person…

But he still used me.

If anything, the truth only makes it worse.

He cared for me, and he still hurt me for his own gain.

Isaac’s eyes meet my eyes. I watch his true feelings, feelings he’s swallowed back, rise to the surface.

He’s been gored. The flesh of his cheeks sliced open to the bone. The meat glistening and oozing. His nose only held on by a tiny flap of skin.

But I’ve never truly known his new face anyway. The man is foreign to me. A stranger.

His eyes, though… I know I’ve thought it a million times, but his eyes will forever be the eyes of the boy who stood by me, tall and strong. A haven protecting me from the monsters until we were torn apart.

“I love you,” he admits, and my entire being revolts. “I’ve loved you since—”

I lash out at him, not wanting him to finish. Only hoping to shut him up.

I can’t bear to hear those words spoken from his lips.

Not now.

Not ever.

My claws slice across his throat, splitting open his jugular.

And still, for a second more, he looks at me with all the love in his body and soul.

He’s held it locked up inside him for so long it burns as bright as the sun, on the verge of going supernova.

Then what I’ve done finally registers.

There’s horror in those eyes.

There’s pain.

There’s betrayal.

The very same betrayal I feel.

I’m no better than him , I realize as my own action finally registers through the red haze.

He loves me, and I’ve killed him.

I’m the monster I’ve been running away from my entire life.

“No,” I moan, swaying on my feet in denial.

I didn’t do that… I couldn’t have done that…

But I did.

Hands going to his neck, Isaac tries to stop himself from bleeding out by putting pressure on the wound, but the blood pours and spurts through his fingers. His life rushing out of him.

And again, he looks at me. Looks at me wondering why I’ve hurt him.

Why did I kill him when he finally admitted he loves me?

When he’s here because he tried to save me?

Tried to save me from this .

“No!” I scream, launching myself at Isaac.

I don’t want to be the monster , I wail inside my head as I slap my hands over his. Trying my best to hold his life in.

I don’t want him to die.

I want to take it back. Oh God, please take it back.

I didn’t mean it.

God, please don’t let him die because I couldn’t control myself, I pray in desperation.

“No, you can’t, Father. You can’t ,” someone says in alarm behind us.

“He’s the fucking enemy,” someone else growls. “He’s Order scum.”

“Mother hurts… she hurts,” Ambrose whines over and over, each word rising in annoying velocity.

“Fucking hell,” yet another mutters. “This has turned into a shitshow.”

“Silence!” Asher snaps, and the basement falls into an eerie quiet before he appears behind Isaac.

A dark, foreboding shadow.

Reaching down, Asher grabs Isaac by the hair and yanks his head back. “It’s my choice.”

“No!” I cry out and grab at Asher’s hand, trying to pry his fingers off. Afraid he’s going to finish what I put into motion.

Ignoring me, Asher lifts his other hand up to his mouth and tears into his wrist. Biting open his skin to free his blood.

When he lowers his bleeding wrist to Isaac’s mouth, all the fight goes out of me.

He’s not trying to kill Isaac.

He’s answering my prayer and saving me from myself. Again.

Asher’s gaze grabs mine and holds me. Not letting me go. Forcing me to acknowledge his ownership and possession. “The things I’m willing to do for you…”

There’s no animosity in what he says, no anger or regret.

It’s not said to make me feel guilty or beholden.

It’s a declaration. A promise.

A show of his love.

His eyes sear into mine, telling me he’ll give me anything, even this.

Before I can thank him, Isaac’s hips buck, trying to throw me off his lap. Looking back down at Isaac, I watch him reach up and try to push to Asher’s arm away.

Afraid he’ll stop the process, I grab Isaac’s hands and pin them down to the arms of the chair.

Isaac bucks again, trying to throw me off, but I use my grip on his arms to hold on.

When Isaac’s hips crash into my thighs, Asher lets out a vicious growl and presses his wrist harder to his mouth.

I’m sure Isaac would shake his head if Asher wasn’t holding him by the hair, nearly breaking his neck.

With nothing covering the gash across Isaac’s throat, it gapes open, reminding me a little of raw lunch meat. Pouring a fountain of blood down Isaac’s chest and splashing against my knees.

Isaac tries once more to buck me off him, his hips shoving upwards. When they touch my thighs, Asher growls again and slaps his palm over Isaac’s mouth.

“There’s only so much I can stand,” Asher says then he jerks Isaac’s head to the side.

A sickening crack echoes through the basement, and Isaac goes slack, his body stilling beneath me.

I keep waiting for Isaac to move, to try to buck me off some more, to keep fighting. But he’s motionless.

Dead.

When Asher lets go of his hair and takes a step back, Isaac’s head tips to the side at an unnatural angle.

“It’s done,” Asher says. “He’ll rise soon.”

I barely hear him, staring at Isaac’s face.

Mouth open, his tongue lolls out, and his eyes stare blankly up at the ceiling.

There’s no dignity in death.

“Did you hear me, Chloe?” Asher asks. “I said it’s done. It’s complete. He’ll rise again.”

Scrambling off Isaac’s lap, I take a couple of steps back. I’m covered in his blood.

He’s dead , I think again as I lift my hands and stare at the red coating my hands. It looks like someone dipped my hands into buckets of red paint. My hands are completely covered, long, thick streams of blood dripping all the way down to my elbows.

My stomach cramps hard, my hunger coming back with a vengeance, and I have the overwhelming urge to lick it .

To shove my fingers into my mouth and suck all the blood off them, one by one.

I almost do it, lifting my hand to my lips.

One lick. I only need one little lick…

“ Chloe ,” Asher commands, forcing my eyes to him.

He steps around Isaac and reaches his hand out to me, urging me to take it.

Always reaching for me.

Realizing what I was about to do, I stare at my own hand in horror.

Then I take a step back and vanish.