CHAPTER 17 #2
He speaks of exploiting something as intimate as a soulbond, as if it’s a mere parlor trick or a clever loophole in an ancient spellbook.
There’s not an ounce of reverence, no hesitation—just amusement, like he’s already picturing himself in designer sunglasses, sipping iced coffee in the sun while I wither in his shadow.
With his child.
“In other words,” Lucien says, stepping forward, his hands folded loosely behind his back, “the soulbond creates a bridge between souls, which I can then manipulate to allow certain qualities to flow from you to him.”
He speaks with the patient clarity of someone explaining something sacred. As if this isn’t a violation, but a gift.
A breathless laugh, dry and sickened, escapes me. “How poetic.”
I lift my head to meet Cain’s gaze, letting the silence stretch a beat too long. “A bridge built just to be burned.”
He holds my stare as he steps closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Then let’s burn together, darling.”
His eyes don’t waver. If anything, he looks thrilled.
The urge to punch him in the face grows fierce, near uncontainable.
Cain winks, then turns away like my rage is a passing breeze.
With a snap of his fingers, two vampires enter the chamber.
As they haul me to my feet, Cain strides through the door with Lucien following closely behind him, their footsteps dwindling into the distance.
The vampires march me down a torch-lit corridor as my mind races to find an escape.
I take in every detail, mentally mapping the underground labyrinth to the best of my abilities. I’m shoved into a small cell carved from the same stone as the chamber, but this one has a narrow cot, a bucket in the corner, and a single torch casting long shadows across the floor.
“Lord Cain will send for you when it’s time,” one guard informs me, his voice devoid of emotion.
The door slams shut, the sound of a heavy lock sliding into place echoing in the confined space.
I sit on the edge of the cot, trying to control my breathing. Panic won’t help me now. I need to think, to plan.
I close my eyes, centering myself. My hands are uncuffed now. The cell is secure, but not impenetrable. And most importantly, I’m alive, which means I still have a chance.
My focus shifts to the tracker in my arm.
Redmoore technology is designed to function under extreme conditions.
While being this deep underground could be blocking the signal, there’s a chance that if I can get closer to the surface, to a thinner section of wall or ceiling, the tracker might ping just enough to give them a direction.
Until then, I just need to keep Cain talking. The more he reveals about himself, the better I can counter him. And if there’s one thing I am certain of, it’s that Cain loves to talk almost as much as he loves power.
Time loses all shape in my windowless cell, the hours dissolving into one another.
Eleven marks now scar the wall, carved with a sharp stone I pried loose.
Sleep comes in fitful bursts, continuously interrupted by guards bringing stale water and cups of warm, thick, and unmistakably fresh blood.
The kind that hasn’t been bottled or treated, but squeezed from a human, probably unwilling, maybe still alive when they took it.
The thought churns my stomach, but hunger churns deeper, gnawing at the edges of my reason.
Afterward, there’s nothing to do but listen.
Down here, sound is either meaningless or final—dripping water, settling stone, air moving through unseen vents, mortar dust whispering loose when doors slam, and occasionally, a scream that cuts off too cleanly.
Vampire hearts get torn out for disobedience or incompetence, yet the corridors never thin.
Every once in a while, I probe the cell’s weaknesses, but to no avail. Not the grout between masonry. Not the hinges on the door. Not the torch bracket that might serve as a weapon. Nothing.
Just dread and boredom that fester.
On what I think is the twelfth day, the lock of my cell clicks and the door swings open.
Cain stands in the threshold, dressed ridiculously impeccable in a tailored suit that makes the dingy surroundings seem even more dismal by comparison.
“Rise and shine, my reluctant bride,” he announces with that insufferable flourish he seems to think makes him charming.
“The stars have aligned, the moon is waxing, and our big day has arrived.”
I remain seated on the cot, my arms crossed. “What are you talking about?”
“The ritual,” he says, chuckling, as if explaining to a child.
“Lucien has completed the preparations. Tonight, we shall forge our bond, and I claim my place in the sun.” He tilts his head, eyeing my disheveled appearance with distaste.
“But first, you need a bath. Can’t have you looking like that for our special moment. ”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I say flatly.
His smile doesn’t falter. “I thought you might say that. That’s why I’ve arranged a little motivation. Your mother sends her regards.”
My heart stutters, calling his bluff. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” He snaps his fingers and two guards appear behind him, dragging a woman in between them.
She’s blindfolded and gagged, wrists bound in front of her with iron links.
“Mom?” I haven’t seen her since I was a child. Most of what I know about her comes secondhand, filtered through my father’s voice when he reminiscently spoke of her.
I lunge forward, but Cain pushes me back against the wall with one hand. With a flick of his other hand, she’s pulled back into the corridor like a prop exiting stage left. He doesn’t even glance at her.
And I didn’t even get to really see her.
I hurl at him, blind with rage, but two new guards catch me before I can reach him.
Cain laughs, gesturing for his guards to stand down. “There is the fire I’ve been missing. Save some of that energy for tonight.” He then turns toward the guards, moving past them as he speaks. “Bring her to the bathing chamber.”
The guards drag me through meandering corridors, deeper into the underground complex.
We pass other cells, most of them empty but a few containing shadowy figures who press against the bars to watch us pass.
The air grows warmer, heavy with moisture, until we reach a small chamber where a steaming pool is carved into the floor.
Ornate columns support the ceiling, braziers casting flickering light across the water’s surface. I scan the room in hopes of spotting a window of some kind, but all I’m surrounded by are four thick rock walls.
Apparently their version of a bathroom is just a waterhole inside some cave.
“Leave us,” Cain commands, and the guards retreat to the entrance.
“I’m not bathing with you watching,” I say, disgusted.
“Don’t be such a prude,” he replies, circling the pool. “Besides, I’m not giving you the chance to drown yourself. I know how resourceful you can be.”
I glare at him. “You really don’t have a shred of decency, do you?”
“Flattery won’t get you out of it.”
With no choice, I start to undress, turning my back to him and moving as quickly as possible.
The water is surprisingly pleasant as I slide in, immediately sinking up to my neck.
Herbs float on the surface, their scent both soothing and disorienting.
Some kind of sedative, I realize too late, my limbs already growing heavy.
“What did you put in here?” I demand, fighting to keep my head above water.
“Just something to help you relax,” Cain says, loosening his tie.
To my horror, he begins to undress, too, dropping each garment carelessly to the floor. I look away, focusing on the ripples spreading across the surface rather than the smirk I can feel on his face. Even the cave walls are suddenly fascinating.
“You’re wound so tight, Seraph. It’s not healthy.”
Before I can protest, he slides into the pool opposite me, his pale skin gleaming in the dim light. I press myself firmly against the far edge, creating as much distance as possible.
“Stay away from me,” I warn, though my voice lacks conviction as the herbs work their magic.
He ignores me.
The water sloshes as he moves closer, his knee brushing against mine beneath the surface. I try to shift away, but my back is already against the edge of the pool. The herbs have made my movements sluggish, my thoughts scattered.
“It doesn’t have to be difficult, you know?” he says. “Just say yes to the bond, and your mother goes free. Simple as that.”
“How will I know you’ll keep your promise?”
His fingers trace lazy patterns in the water between us. “Have I not kept my promise before? A deal is a deal, Seraph. I may be a monster, but I’m a monster of my word.”
I clench my jaw, fighting against the fog in my mind. “The sun is overrated.”
“I still want it,” he shrugs lazily, “and you’re my ticket to it.”
“Why?” I nearly yell. “What could possibly be so good about daywalking that you’d sacrifice your dignity for it?”
Cain doesn’t flinch at my accusation, his eyes instead taking on a distant quality, as if gazing beyond the stone walls to something I can’t see, water droplets sliding down his chest like tears.
“The sun,” he begins, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper, “is the great equalizer. It doesn’t care if you’ve lived a hundred years or are barely two days turned.
” His hands rise from the water, fingers splayed as if trying to catch invisible rays.
“It burns us all the same, reducing even the mightiest vampire to a corpse that remembers how to breathe only when the moon rises again.”