Blood So Brutal (Golden City #2)

1. Huntyr

Chapter 1

Huntyr

T he sound of my heart beating became the one thing that reminded me I was still alive. I slipped my bloodied, bruised hand up to my chest and felt it there, thud after thud.

Vampyre.

It was impossible, right? I would have known if I was one of those violent, depraved bloodsuckers. I would have known if I’d spent my entire life killing my own kind. But my twenty-fifth birthday was right around the corner, and vampyres didn’t develop cravings until then.

My head fell back onto the metal bars behind me. The damn archangel had no reason to lie to me. If he believed I was the heir to the vampyre kingdom…

Hells. The missing pieces in my life were exactly what he needed to make sense of it all. I never knew my real parents. Lord was the one who raised me, who told me the story of who I really was.

Did he know? Had he known all along? Maybe that’s why he shipped me off here. Maybe he knew my twenty-fifth birthday was approaching, and he wanted me to be somewhere far, far away when my cravings for blood developed.

Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away. I wouldn’t cry down here in these dungeons, not with the enemy watching every move.

Asmodeus and his errand boy, Luseyar, visited every day since they shoved me into this cage. Asmodeus would insist I show him my magic, and I would tell him time and time again that I possessed no magic.

I was starting to believe it myself.

Footsteps in the distance skyrocketed my already-racing heart. I grew accustomed to those footsteps over the last week or so, and I could identify the all-powerful archangel easily. He was always walking too fast, too eager.

But these footsteps were different. They were slow. Lazy. I could picture the way Wolf walked with that annoying swagger of confidence, his massive wings trailing on the ground behind him as if he didn’t care enough to pick them up.

My thoughts halted.

Wolf didn’t have wings. Not anymore. Not after his own father cut them off for not exposing my magic.

Good. He deserved it.

Wolf’s wings being taken from him was one of the hardest things I’d ever watched, but I wasn’t going to let him manipulate me. I wasn’t going to let them manipulate me. I couldn’t trust any of them anymore, not after what they did.

Wolf tricked me.

He made me think he truly cared about me, made me think I couldn’t get through the Transcendent on my own, and for what? So he could keep tabs on me while delivering me to his father?

He probably never felt anything for me, either. I could picture him laughing at how foolish I was, at how easily I fell into his trap.

Anger swarmed me again, followed by a sharp pang in my chest. Every time he came down to these dungeons, I was reminded of how stupid I was to trust him, how naive I was to think he actually cared about me.

No, he was working for his father, Asmodeus. This was all part of their master plan to find the last living heir to Scarlata Empire.

None of it was real.

For all I knew, his wings getting sliced from his body wasn’t real either—just another way to manipulate me, another way to turn me into someone they could control. I turned my head away from the front of the cell as Wolf approached. When his footsteps stopped a few feet away from me, I held my breath.

“Huntress.” His voice was a mere whisper. He hadn’t been in here since that night, since his bloodied body was dragged from the floor outside my cell. The mark of his blood still stained the floor, alongside a sole black feather to remind me of the atrocity.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed my hand deeper into my chest, shoving my fingernails into the skin to distract me from the ache festering there.

“Can you at least look at me?”

I kept my mental shields up, forcing myself to pull as far away as possible from our bond. It was a difficult task, but for a few minutes at a time, I could separate the messy emotions that combined in a raging tornado within me. My anger, his resentment; it all added to that never-ending ache in my chest I could never escape from.

I hated him for what he did to me. After everything, I chose to trust him. Hells, he was a vampyre and he hid that from me our entire time at Moira Seminary. Still, I chose him. I let him drink from me, for fuck’s sake.

And here I was, trapped in this disgusting cell with nothing but a bucket to piss in.

My thoughts distracted me, and I let my shields slip enough to hear him inhale sharply. Part of me wanted to lower the shields entirely and throw every single thing I felt his way. Part of me wanted him to feel that pain, that anger, that hatred.

But then, he would know how badly I still fucking cared, because anger still meant I cared. Anger was still something.

“Here,” he said, and I heard rustling through the bars. “At least eat something, please. My father will be down here to speak with you soon, and you need your strength.”

I finally turned to face him.

He looked smaller without massive black wings towering over each of his shoulders, but the sight of him still took my breath away. His black shirt hung loose on his lean figure, and his eyes looked much wider than usual. The electric blue of his irises glowed in the dark underground of The Golden City.

My stomach lurched at the sight of the bread he offered through the bars.

“Bread?” I asked. “Really? I recall offering my own veins to you when you were hungry once, Wolf. Nice to see you repaying the sentiment with such a warm meal.”

A sliver of relief flooded me from his side of the bond, and I looked away before he could see any of the emotion on my face.

“Take it,” he pushed. “Please.”

His voice cracked, and I shoved my fingernails into my chest so hard, I drew blood.

He was hurting, I knew he was. Without his wings, he was only a vampyre. He had those glowing eyes, yes, but without the ability to fly? He was just like the rest of them.

He gave that up to protect me, goddess knows why . He already caused enough damage; it was a little too late to start saving me now.

I took a deep breath before crawling over the front of the cell and taking the bread from his outstretched hand.

Wolf said nothing, but he didn’t move away as I tore a small piece and ate. I didn’t try to hide my matted hair, my bruised, dirty skin. Wolf could damn well see what was happening to me down here in this dungeon.

I was rotting away.

“You could have told him, you know,” I whispered without looking at him.

He stiffened. “Told who what?”

“You could have told your father the type of magic I have. It would have saved your wings, and I would still be in this shit position. You already dragged me here to deliver me directly to him. No use in saving me now.”

I glanced at him in time to see his jaw clenching. “I’ve already betrayed you enough. The second he knows anything more, he’ll do everything he can to get it out of you.”

Guilt gently nudged through his side of the bond, but I threw my mental walls back up. I would not pity him. I had enough to deal with.

“Didn’t seem to bother you the first time,” I sneered. “Not sure why you’d have a problem with it now.”

“Huntyr,” he hissed, his voice turning into a warning. “You know exactly why I have a problem with it.”

I eyed him suspiciously, taking in his shockingly pale skin and messy hair. He wasn’t himself—or, perhaps, he was. Perhaps this was the real Wolf, and he was showing me the fake, formulated version of himself back in Moira.

I didn’t really know him at all, did I?

“I can still feel you, Huntyr.” His hands moved to grip the bars of the cell. “I know you’re angry with me, but I also know you want to let me help you.”

Yeah fucking right.

“Don’t push me away. I have a plan to get us both out of this mess.”

“Oh, you do?” My laugh sounded foreign, even to me. I pushed myself up to my knees and gripped the bars right below his hands, shaking gently. “Was this all part of getting me out of here?”

He glanced over his shoulder before continuing. “There are certain things I can’t control. My father has power, and he wants to rule Scarlata, has wanted to for a very, very long time.”

“I don’t give a damn about what your father wants.”

His lips turned up in a scowl. “But you should!”

“Why? Because I’m supposedly the secret heir to the throne?”

He leaned in so close, I could feel his breath as he whispered, “Because you are more powerful than any of them. You are the vampyre queen, Huntyr. Your blood, it?—”

I cut him off before he could get the rest of the words out. “Don’t you dare start telling me about my blood. I should have never let you drink from me. I should have let you die in that damn forest.”

Ice flooded our bond. “Don’t say that.”

“What about now?” I asked. “Who have you been feeding from up there in the shambles of The Golden City? More innocents? Are you part of this, Wolf? Did you help your father take over The Golden City?”

“Keep your voice down,” he hissed.

“Why should I? I don’t want you here, Wolf!” The dam of tears I held back for weeks slowly pushed open. “I don’t want to look at you. I don’t want you to bring me food. I don’t want you saving me. I just want to be left alone.”

My chest heaved as I tried to channel the fighter who Lord trained, the vampyre assassin, the heartless killer. I wanted her back. I didn’t want to feel.

And I sure as hells didn’t want to feel Wolf’s emotions, either.

“You can hate me all you want,” he whispered, “but this is fucking real.” He moved so quickly, I couldn’t pull back before his hand snuck through the bars and wrapped around my forearm. He tugged me forward, sending us both tumbling into metal.

I gasped and tried to free myself, but he held tighter. Warmth radiated from his skin—his entire body, actually. I could feel him, his energy, his essence.

It was a feeling I grew accustomed to back in Moira, but now?

“Feel that?” Wolf whispered. “Because I can. I feel everything, Huntyr, even if you’re trying to fight it.”

The fierceness in his eyes returned with a vengeance. I stopped trying to pull away but said nothing. Instead, I focused on mustering as much hate as I possibly could up to the surface, throwing it through the bond.

I hated him. I should have hated him all along. I was a stupid, naive girl to think I could trust anyone.

Lord would be ashamed.

“Eat. Rest. My father is insisting on discovering what type of power you possess, but if you want out, you’ll act clueless.”

“I am clueless,” I retorted. “I have no idea what power I have. I could barely summon magic in Moira, remember?”

He smirked, his eyes flickering down my face. “I remember everything, but I tasted your blood, too. Trust me, there’s something special running through your veins.”

This time, when I pulled my arm away, he let me.

I continued picking at the bread in my hands as I waited for him to storm away, but he remained standing in front of my cell.

“I would cut my own wings off for you any day, Huntress. Do not think I’m done doing everything in my power to keep them from touching you.”

And then, he was gone, leaving me and my growing pit of despair alone in the dungeon of the enemy.