CHAPTER 21
IN A FLASH, I’m yanked backward with unsparing force, my connection to Oliver severed as strong hands grip my shoulders and slam me into hard stone. My head cracks, stars exploding behind my eyes as I snarl in protest, fangs still bared and dripping.
“Enough.” Revenant’s voice, guttural from deep within his chest, cuts through my bloodlust like a jolt of static ripping my nerves. He has me pinned to the wall, one hand pressing against my sternum, the other gripping my jaw, forcing me to meet his contemptuous gaze. “Look at yourself.”
Behind him, Oliver slumps against the settee, his face blanched, a thin rivulet of blood still trickling from the ragged wound at his neck. His eyes are glazed, his breathing shallow.
I’d been seconds away from draining him completely.
“I—” The words die in my throat as shame floods through me.
I hadn’t just been feeding from him. I’d been consuming him, lost in my own hunger.
“Pathetic,” Revenant scoffs, his voice pitched low enough that only I can hear. “Can’t even control your thirst for a simple feeding. What’s the verdict now, my lady? Oh, I know.” His thumb brushes my lower lip, wiping away a drop of Oliver’s blood. “You’re more animal than the rest of us.”
He releases me abruptly, turning to Oliver. “You’re dismissed. Have someone tend to that wound.”
Oliver nods, pressing a handkerchief to his neck as he stumbles from the alcove. I watch him go, guilt churning in my stomach.
“Come,” Revenant commands, striding across the ballroom, giving no thought to whether I follow.
But I do.
I trail after him, humiliation burning in my cheeks.
Nearby Ravens pause in their feedings to watch us pass, their curiosity palpable despite their masks.
We walk past Saul, whom I recognize by his stance alone, leaning against a column with characteristic nonchalance.
Even from across the room, I feel the weight of his attention.
Revenant stops at another alcove where a woman waits, her caramel hair piled atop her head in an elaborate style, revealing the elegant line of her neck.
“Sophia,” he greets her, his voice taking on a warmth I didn't think he was capable of. “Would you do me the honor?”
She smiles, extending her hand to him. “Always, my lord.”
He sits beside her, his movements gentle and unhurried.
Unlike my desperate lunge at Oliver, there’s a controlled grace to the way he takes her wrist, turning it tenderly to expose the delicate blue veins beneath.
His thumb brushes her skin right where he intends to bite, as if coaxing it to yield before his teeth ever touch it.
I watch, transfixed, as Sophia’s free hand slides up Revenant’s arm, fingers tracing the contours of his muscles. Her touch is intimate and familiar, like she’s mapped this territory many times before. I feel like an intruder, but I’m unable to look away.
Revenant brings Sophia’s wrist to his mouth, pressing his lips to her pulse point in what almost resembles a kiss.
His eyes never leave hers as his fangs pierce her skin with the finesse of a lover.
Sophia’s breath catches, her head tilting back slightly.
There’s no pain in her expression, only a dreamy pleasure that swells as he drinks.
A breathy moan slips from her lips, sensual and unguarded, like the sound was drawn from somewhere deep inside her.
The entire process is measured, refined, and sophisticated in every way.
He takes what he needs, nothing more, his throat working in slow, deliberate swallows, her gaze never leaving his.
When he’s finished, he seals the wound with a swipe of his tongue, then presses a clean cloth to the punctures.
As he withdraws his fangs, she sighs with something that sounds like disappointment.
“So soon?” she pouts, her voice a sultry caress, her eyes heavy-lidded and her cheeks flushed. Her fingers trail along his jawline, lingering in a way that makes my skin prickle with unexpected irritation.
She wants him—not just as a patron or protector, but as a man.
I wish I could give her a reality check right here and now, force her to see the horrors he’s wrought, and will yet bring. That this is all an illusion. A show. That she’s being naive, manipulated, toyed with.
But I know she wouldn’t hear me.
Revenant catches Sophia’s wandering hand, pressing a kiss to her palm in a gesture that seems both appreciative and gently dismissive.
Sophia leans forward, not getting the cue, or just ignoring it, boldly reducing the space between them. “You promised me a midnight walk in the gardens last time,” she purrs, her tone playful but pointed. “The moon is particularly beautiful tonight.”
“Patience, Sophia.”
I finally manage to force my gaze away, heat blooming in my cheeks. I was the one who called them barbaric. I was the one who lunged, teeth bared and hands shaking. But now I feel like the savage one.
What I did was violent and desperate. What he did is the opposite. Something I never wanted to try, because I never knew how.
And the worst part is… a small part of me envies it.
Sophia arches her neck, drawing herself closer to Revenant, letting the fabric of her blouse slip just enough to reveal the contours of her chest. “Perhaps I could tempt you with more?” The suggestion in her voice is unmistakable. She’s offering herself willingly.
“Later,” he agrees, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile that carries the weight of promise. “I have a guest to attend to.”
He motions to me as I stand awkwardly at the edge of the alcove, watching a world I can’t quite reach, feeling every bit the outsider.
I want to sink through the floor and disappear.
When Sophia notices my presence—or rather the fact that I’m not some mere bystander—her expression shifts into something territorial before she masks it with practiced politeness.
“Of course,” she says, rising gracefully. “Until next time, my lord.”
She inclines her head toward him and glides away, throwing one last glance over her shoulder before disappearing through the silk curtains.
“I hope the demonstration did not wound your sensibilities beyond repair,” Revenant says, beckoning me to sit.
I do not. “You set me up.”
“How so?” He furrows his brows. “Please do enlighten me.”
“I’m trapped here, starving,” I say through gritted teeth. “You left me no choice. You knew what would happen.”
He laughs under his breath, clearly entertained. “Starving, yes, but hardly helpless. Hunger sharpens instincts, makes fools of us all. Losing control is a failure of discipline, not circumstance. Perhaps if you had mastered yourself sooner, this scene wouldn’t have been necessary.”
I blink, unable to process the audacity required to say something like that. “Or maybe I shouldn’t have been left to rot like prey in a cage.”
“I agree.” His smile darkens, more predator than gentleman.
“But there was a lesson in that, don’t you think?
” One hand rests casually on the table, fingers drumming lightly, an almost imperceptible rhythm that underscores the control he’s exuding.
The tapping seems too slow to be nervous, too tempered to be impatient.
It’s like a countdown, the soft sound a reminder of his unhurried power, as though time is on his side.
When he speaks again, every word is wrapped in the thinnest guise of kindness.
“Control isn’t given, Seraph, it’s taken.
Learn it quickly, or you won’t last long here. ”
I hold his gaze, unable to look away, as if it would mean admitting defeat if I did. The tension in my chest grows heavier, a dull ache that threatens to twist into something more. It’s not fear. It’s more primal, something that makes the edges of my vision go blurry.
Rage.
How dare he? How dare he make this sound like a lesson I should be grateful for?
My fists are clenched at my sides, nails biting into my palms. I want to speak, to scream, to throw something, but I hold it in. I know better than to give him that satisfaction. Than to have him physically showcase just how much power he holds within these walls.
He stands and beckons me with a subtle flick of his fingers. “Walk with me,” he says, offering his arm in a way that feels more command than invitation.
I steel myself for what lies ahead. The dress feels suddenly restrictive, the mask a flimsy barrier between me and whatever fate he has planned.
The words I want to say sit heavy on my tongue, but they don’t come.
There’s a cold logic in my mind, a warning that resistance is futile, that every decision and movement has already been mapped out.
With a reluctant exhale, I accept, letting him guide me through a side door and into a moonlit garden. Stone paths wind between neatly trimmed hedges and ancient oak trees. Fountains murmur softly in the distance, providing a constant backdrop of gentle sound.
It would be beautiful if not for the company.
He removes his mask, looking at me with those unsettling gray eyes that seem to see too much. “Do you know why we wear these masks?”
For a heartbeat, I’m astounded by the casual unveiling. The face I’ve been hunting for years, only glimpsed once in utter desperation, is now finally revealed to me in full.
But not in the way I imagined. Not in vengeance, not in triumph… just like this. Offering it to me as if it’s nothing. What is he trying to pull? A sudden vulnerability? A game? A distraction?
I unlink my hand from his arm and remove my own mask with the other, unwilling to give him an advantage, no matter how small.
With careful discretion, I lift the sleeve of my dress, fingers grazing the fabric, preparing to run if I have to. “Because it’s a convenient way to absolve yourself of responsibility?”