Chapter 1 #2
I spare a glance at Jace, and I swear something close to relief softens his features. Don’t relax yet, kid. I might get us both killed.
“Gentlemen,” I purr, keeping my eyes locked on Vincent.
A tingle creeps up my spine as he watches me with hooded eyes.
He sees the challenge, and I know the exact moment I catch his attention.
I extend my wrist, revealing the shadow-inked crest—an intricate weave of swirls and patterns that mark Blackwood House’s claim on me, and the potency of my blood.
Excitement fills Vincent’s eyes, and I curve my mouth up into a fake smile.
“I thought you might care for something a little stronger.”
“Stronger, you say?” A teasing expression brightens his eyes as his tongue flicks out to wet his red-stained lips.
I move closer, blocking his view of Jace.
“Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I just assumed someone of your status would appreciate a little more experience.”
I let my eyes dip to his crotch for a second before bringing them back up, and there’s no mistaking the lust in his eyes.
I shift my weight just enough for the coppery brown skin of my thigh to slip through the slit of my dress.
The blue fabric clings to every curve and dip of my body, sculpted exactly as its makers intended.
Something flashes in his eyes, and I know I have him.
I look briefly over my shoulder and find Jace watching in disbelief. I almost groan at the fact that he didn’t take the opportunity to flee. Fool.
“Is there a reason you’re still standing there, newblood?
I think your services would be much more suited to the rooms servicing the Sired, downstairs.
” I force venom into my voice and feel instant guilt as soon as his eyes gloss over, but I don’t have time for sympathy; I’m trying to save his fucking life.
Jace doesn’t move, so I sashay over to Vincent, sinking into his lap with a soft moan that makes him instantly harden beneath me.
I push down the bile that rises to my throat.
This foolish child has no self-preservation at all. Humans truly are such a primitive species. How you’re not already extinct is a mystery, Athriel says.
You do remember that I’m one of those primitive humans you think should be extinct?
Yes, but luckily you have me.
You’re insufferable.
I zone out Athriel’s laughter and send Jace a death glare.
“Gods, fuck off, newblood. Do I really have to spell it out?”
Relief nearly escapes me in a sigh when he finally gets the message and turns away—but before he can take more than a few steps, Vincent’s voice cuts through the air.
“Not so fast, pretty one.”
My stomach drops as my eyes meet Tori’s across the room. Her expression mirrors exactly what I’m thinking. I’m too late.
Vincent beckons him over until he is standing in front of us. I close my eyes for a brief second when I see Jace fiddling with his hands as he moves closer.
“Do you know why I attend Blackwood Bloodhouse, Jace?”
His eyes dart to mine as though I hold the answer.
I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as Vincent trails a finger slowly up my exposed leg, and it’s all I can do not to recoil.
“I’m not sure.”
“He’s not sure,” Vincent mocks, earning him a few laughs from the vampires around the table.
“I come here because it is the most expensive and most elite bloodhouse in the entire kingdom of Kalyn. Did you know that it is one of only two bloodhouses that requires you to have a membership just to get through the door?” He gestures dramatically toward the large wooden doors separating us from the outside world.
“Therefore, I have high expectations of the purebloods that serve me when I visit here.”
The table is silent, everyone hanging on the edge of his words.
“Do you think you met those expectations tonight?”
Jace looks to me for guidance, but I have nothing to give—not without risking everything I care about, and that isn’t an option.
“I…I think so.”
“He thinks so. Thank the lost Gods he can think.” Vincent curls his finger toward Jace, beckoning him forward again. “Come, perhaps you can make this up to me with a taste from somewhere more… appetizing.”
Jace shuffles forward, his throat bobbing as he swallows.
“Bend down.”
He follows the command, and Vincent removes the hand from my thigh to trace the vein trailing along his throat. He inhales deeply as he does.
“Do you know why I only feed from the wrist, Jace?” The boy shakes his head, and Vincent drops his voice to a whisper. “My uncle has banished me from feeding elsewhere. He thinks I have no self-control. He thinks I am unable to stop. Can you believe that?”
“No.” His words are just above a whisper, and I can see the fear radiating in his eyes.
“Would you like to help me prove him wrong?”
“If it would please you.” My chest tightens, and my blood stirs, heating with his every word.
“It would very much please me,” Vincent says.
Without hesitation, he wraps a hand around Jace’s throat before slamming his mouth against the throbbing vein.
The boy’s scream bursts out, sharp but short-lived.
Vincent could have made it pleasurable, but instead, he chooses to torment him even in his final moments.
I watch in horror as the boy struggles against his hold, every effort futile.
He is no match for the strength of a vampire.
My fingers dig into the arms of the leather chair, my nails biting into the material as I fight every instinct in my body, watching as Jace’s body becomes limp.
Tears burn at the edges of my eyes, but I will not let them fall.
They will not see me cry. Instead, rage takes its place, like a dark rumble inside my chest.
Kill. Kill. Kill.
Gods, I hate them. They think we’re fucking toys for feeding and entertainment.
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to control my blood’s need to fight back.
I can feel it pushing against its own nature, the pressure growing like a storm in my veins.
I beg my mind to quiet, to keep the black substance trying to fill my veins at bay.
The best enemy is the one you do not see coming.
I replay the words in my mind like a mantra.
Back then, when they were first whispered to me on nights I lost control—when the urge to slaughter every vampire in the bloodhouse consumed me—I didn’t understand.
But now I do. I let the calm wash over me.
A loud thud fills the air, and when my eyes open, I find Jace’s severed head lying just a few inches from my feet, his sad eyes still watching me, begging me to save him. But I failed him, just like the many others before him.
Vincent’s arm slips around my waist, holding me firmly in place as he presses his mouth against my ear.
“You are far too rare and potent to kill,” he says, his fingers curling tight around my wrist. I try to pull away, but he only squeezes tighter, forcing a whimper from me.
Horror widens my eyes as dark shadows spill from his palm, coiling around my wrist in a tight hold.
My body locks at the sight of his House’s elemental shadow magic on full display.
Vincent wields shadow fire. The cool brush of darkness turns searing in an instant, agony ripping a strangled cry from my throat as black flames lick and burn through flesh.
The flames crackle as they dance around my wrist, causing my vision to blur.
He moves his hand away, leaving behind the dark tendrils as he smothers my scream with his blood-stained palm.
Ragged breaths leave my mouth as the scent of burnt flesh assaults my nose, and the room becomes a collision of colors I can no longer tell apart.
The sound of the other vampires laughing makes Athriel’s rage slam against the walls of my mind, clawing to break free. Kill. Kill. Kill.
No! There’s…too many…too…dangerous.
His anger heightens, and through the blinding pain, I fight to push him back. My focus is pulled back to the room as Vincent’s cold voice fills my ears.
“If you ever make the mistake of getting involved in my business again, I will do things to you that will make you wish you were dead, and I don’t give a shit if it upsets the precious Lord Blackwood. Understood?”
I nod as tears sting the edges of my eyes and heat bubbles inside my stomach.
It seems like forever before he finally summons his shadows away.
He raises his hand to his mouth, pressing his palm to his fangs to allow a small pool of venom to collect there.
He coats the raw flesh on my wrist in the cool liquid, and I wince as the edges of the skin begin to knit together, smoothing over as if he didn’t just burn it all away.
I sigh as the burning sensation turns to a mild sting.
My body betrays me as my head flops back against his shoulder, too exhausted to move.
He allows the venom to completely heal every spot, but a raised ridge of scar tissue.
Soft laughter spills from his mouth as he sweeps his thumb over the new scar he has left behind.
He leans forward to admire it, as if it were a rare piece of artwork.
“A reminder,” he says. I grit my teeth as I try to hold back everything I want to do to him.
He removes the hold from my waist and taps my leg dismissively.
I don’t miss a beat. I stumble to my feet, desperate to put as much distance between us as possible.
Laughter breaks out at the table as the monsters behind me watch me struggle to keep my balance as I almost trip over Jace’s severed head.
Guilt twists my stomach into knots. He was just eighteen.
Still a child. He barely even lived, and his life was stolen as if it were just one big joke.
My chest tightens, but I force myself forward, steadying against the tables as I weave through them.
I don’t stop until I am face-to-face with Tori.
The sadness in her eyes reflects everything I feel.
Her blue eyes widen as she takes in the new scar on my wrist.
“Are you ok?” she whispers.
“I’m fine. It’s already healed. I just need a minute.”
I touch a hand to the scar, my eyes closing as my fingers trace the newly crinkled skin.
My chest tightens, a storm of emotions threatening to break loose—but I will not let them see weakness.
I glance back at the table and find Vincent still watching me.
A look of pure satisfaction fills his face.
Our eyes clash in a challenge while my fists clench at my sides until a soft touch against my arm draws my attention away. My eyes meet Tori’s again.
“It’s not your fault,” she says.
“No?” I say, gesturing to the parts of me still covered in Jace’s blood, the coppery scent making my nostrils flare. My stomach roils, desperate to release every meal I have eaten today.
“No, he was going to die no matter what you did. Vincent had already made up his mind. At least you tried.”
“If it were Willow, I would have stopped at nothing to save her.”
“She’s your sister. He was a newblood we barely even knew. They die all the time.”
“And that makes it right?”
“None of this is right, but it's the world we live in, Adina.”
She hesitates for just a moment.
“All we can do is survive.” She says the phrase we’ve been repeating since we were kids. The reminder we created when we both witnessed our first death.
“I could have saved him,” I whisper.
“No,” she says, but I know the truth.
I know what I’m capable of, but I did nothing because, as much as I wanted to help him, I knew the cost, and I wasn’t going to risk my sister’s life for a newblood I barely knew. And I’m honestly not sure if it makes me a bigger monster than the vampire who murdered him.
“What part of stay out of other purebloods’ business was not clear to you, Adina Barron?”
I swing around at the sound of Cora’s voice.
Before I even get the chance to react, she wraps a hand around my upper arm and drags me in the direction of the hallway.
Tori looks on apologetically but doesn’t dare intervene.
I don’t blame her. Cora is an oldblood—someone who’s done her years of service to the vampires and now acts as one of Amabel’s house guides, enforcing order—especially on purebloods who break the rules.
I catch Cora nodding at someone over my shoulder, and when I follow her gaze, I find Amabel standing beside the bar wearing a scowl.
A sign that there will be repercussions for my actions tonight.
Cora doesn’t stop walking until we are far down the hallway and out of earshot of anyone. She releases my arm and turns to face me.
“One of these days you’re going to get yourself killed,” she says. Despite the frustration in her voice, a softness remains in her brown eyes. She gestures toward my wrist, and I instinctively wrap my hand around the marred skin. “Does it hurt?”
“It’s already healed. I’m fine now the shock has worn off.” I brush my finger over the new scar and try not to flinch.
“Here.”
She hands me a damp cloth, hidden inside the pocket of her gray apron, and without looking, I wipe away the final pieces of Jace’s existence. He’ll be thrown into the burn pit like every dead human before him, and the stains on this material will be all the realm remembers of him.
I hand the now red-stained cloth back to her, trying to still the shaking in my hand.
“You’re getting pretty good at pretending to be one of Amabel’s lapdogs,” I say, but stop short when I notice the expression on her wrinkled face.
“You didn’t come for me because Amabel sent you, did you?” She shakes her head, and my stomach drops. I step forward, my eyes meeting hers. “Cora, what is it?”
She closes her eyes briefly before pinning me with a stare.
“It’s Willow.”