CHAPTER 26
THE GRAND DINING HALL is unchanged—a congregation of vampires and bloodmaids engaged in their ritualistic exchange. Yet something feels different tonight.
The quaint serenity has been replaced by a palpable stiffness, their behaviors more measured and guarded, if that’s even possible.
Conversations that once carried a graceful, almost indulgent flow are now restrained and hushed. Laughter has all but vanished, replaced by murmurs passed behind deft hands and downward glances.
Kale is swirling his wine, but doesn’t drink, his eyes remaining fixed on nothing, as if seeing something the rest of us can’t.
Irene’s eyes dart across the room before every sip, as if she’s bracing for something to shatter.
In an alcove, Palina moves with a certain caution, as if weighed down by invisible chains of dread.
In another, a bloodmaid winces as Reece’s fangs pierce her neck—not from pain, but from the absence of intimacy. The bite is perfunctory, less tender.
Something is coming. And whatever it is, they all know it’s already too late to stop it.
Next to me, my brother halts. I follow his gaze to where Ace stands, his imposing figure unmistakable despite the mask.
He wears a tailored burgundy shirt tonight, the severe cut emphasizing his height and the lean strength of his frame.
His hair catches the candlelight, creating a halo effect that feels almost mockingly angelic.
He’s watching us, and even from across the room, I can feel the weight of his attention.
“Remember what I told you,” Saul says, urging me forward with his hand on my back.
Ace’s stare remains unbroken. When we near, he inclines his head slightly in either a silent command or a warning—I can’t tell which.
I simply mirror the gesture, hoping it’s enough to pass for civility.
He pulls aside the silk drape of the alcove behind him, revealing a petite blonde bloodmaid waiting inside. Her eyes are downcast, hands clasped before her like a child awaiting instruction.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry, the memory of Oliver and my loss of control vividly in my mind. I turn to Saul, our eyes meeting in silent communication. I need him there. Need someone to pull me back if I go too far again.
Preferably without rattling my skull in the process.
Understanding my unspoken plea, my brother takes a step toward the alcove, but Ace’s hand shoots up in one swift, decisive motion.
“She needs someone to stand watch,” Saul insists, glancing between us with obvious concern.
“What am I here for?” Ace says, his tone brooking no argument.
Saul retreats, reluctance evident in every line of his body.
Ace slips his fingers into his inner pocket and extracts a silver case. He flips it open, briskly removing a cigarette and lighting it with a flick of his wrist. He leans against the outer rim of the alcove, taking a long, contemplative drag, simply watching me as he does.
Flustered under the scrutiny of his gaze, I focus my attention on the smoke curling upward, dissipating before it reaches the ceiling.
“You got it,” he says flatly, his lips curving into something not quite a smile as he nods toward the bloodmaid. The words hold no encouragement, only cold assessment and perhaps a hint of anticipation, as if he’s waiting to see me fail.
I step into the alcove, the scent of her blood calling to me even from this distance. She looks young, perhaps nineteen or twenty, with deep brown eyes that hold no fear, only acceptance.
“My name is Lily,” she offers softly.
“Seraph,” I respond, lowering myself into the settee next to her with careful distance between us.
Beyond the partially drawn curtain, veiling smoke wreathes around Ace’s expressionless face. He’s looking straight ahead now, but I can still feel the weight of his gaze pressing in from the edges.
“I’m aware of your situation,” Lily says, her voice gentle as she shifts closer. “I’ve been doing this for three years now. I know when to tell you to stop.”
I’m unable to meet her eyes. She clearly doesn’t know the full extent of my situation.
The real danger she puts herself in with these vampires, even if it’s not perceptible on the surface.
She treats her consent like a shield, blind to the fact that no oath holds when a vampire slips past control. It’s gullible at best.
The sound of her heartbeat throbs in my ears, quickening the pace of my own. “I don’t want to hurt you,” I say, teeth clenched against my gnawing thirst after having been denied blood for days.
“You won’t.” She places her hand on mine. “Just listen to my voice. When I say enough, you stop. Simple as that.”
That almost makes me snort. If only it were as simple as that.
Ace clears his throat from beyond the curtain, reminding me that this isn’t really a choice. It’s a command dressed as an opportunity.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “Give me your wrist.”
Lily considers this for a moment, then obeys my order. I cradle her arm in my hands, her pulse fluttering beneath my fingertips. I bring my lips close, mimicking what Ace had shown me with Sophia.
My fangs instinctively extend, piercing Lily’s skin.
Blood wells up and floods my mouth, warm and sweet and impossibly rich.
A soft gasp escapes Lily, but it’s not pain I hear—it’s something closer to pleasure.
Her heartbeat hammers harder and harder, until it’s so loud it starts to drown reason, dragging mine into a frenzy with it.
Relief overwhelms me, fierce and demanding. More, it whispers. Take more. We’re both enjoying this. The world narrows to the pulse beneath my lips, the steady flow of life into me. I drink deeply, feeling strength return to my limbs and clarity to my mind.
“That’s enough for now,” Lily’s voice comes from far away, as if through water.
I ignore her, lost in the sensation. The blood is too sweet, too perfect to stop.
“Seraph,” she says, more firmly this time, trying to pull her arm back. “Enough.”
Something in her tone breaks through the haze. I force myself to release her, fangs retracting as I pull away. Blood smears my lips, and I wipe it hastily with the back of my hand.
Lily looks pale but smiles reassuringly. “See? You did well.”
Did I? My heart hammers against my ribs, pure adrenaline making me light-headed. I haven’t torn her apart, haven’t drained her dry.
But I want to.
Lily starts to lower her arm, but I grab her wrist too fast and hard, making her eyes widen in shock.
“What are you doing?” she protests, but I steady her with one hand, the other locked around her forearm. I can feel her pulse weakening, its rhythm faltering beneath my grip, and that flicker of power intoxicates me even more. There’s nothing she can do now.
She is utterly and irrevocably in my control.
The scent of her blood lingers, warm and metallic, and it calls to something deeper.
Some instinct I barely understand, but it owns me now.
I pull her back toward me and sink my fangs in again, deeper this time.
Her blood hits my tongue with the same euphoric sensation as before.
There’s no finesse now, no mimicry of Ace’s measured grace.
This is greed. Hunger. Mine.
Then… pain?
Fingers wrench into my hair and rip me backward like a whip crack. My fangs tear free from Lily’s skin, leaving twin, bloody gashes. I snarl, feral and wild, twisting against the grip until I see who it is.
Ace wraps a small handkerchief around Lily’s wrist, stemming the flow from the puncture wounds.
“I’m sorry,” I manage to say, though the words feel inadequate.
They both ignore me. Ace helps Lily to her feet and guides her out, giving a silent nod as he hands her off to whoever waits outside.
Although I managed better than the first time, I’m not sure I want it to get easier. The thought of growing accustomed to this, to have it become routine, unsettles me greatly.
I feel like a freak show.
The curtain parts fully as Ace steps back into the alcove.
He stops in front of me, taking in my flushed cheeks and the remnants of blood on my lips, searching my face as if hoping to find a reason not to be disgusted by me.
Without a word, he reaches out and wipes a streak of blood from my chin with his thumb.
His touch is cold, almost careless, like he’s cleaning up a mess he didn’t make.
Two light slaps—sharp, but not cruel—land against my cheek.
“Better.” He takes another drag from his cigarette. “Still messy, but you stopped.”
I wipe my mouth again, embarrassed. “I heard her.”
“Did you?” He tilts his head, his eyes resting on me like a verdict. “Or did you hear the part of yourself that knows what happens if you don’t?”
The question hits uncomfortably close to the truth. Had I stopped for Lily’s sake, or because I feared the consequences of losing control again? Which inevitably happened anyway.
I lift my chin, refusing to be cowed. “Does it matter? The result is the same.”
He smirks, more mockery than mirth. “Intent always matters. It is the difference between a monster who can’t control itself and a predator who chooses not to.”
He moves to sit where Lily had been, close enough that I can smell the tobacco on his breath.
“Saul mentioned you were taken by Redmoore once,” I say, trying to steer the conversation in the direction I want it to. “Experimented on. You were Subject W-1.”
His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “Yes.”
I’m the one watching him this time. “That’s why you committed that massacre, isn’t it? Because you wanted revenge.”
He slouches back, elbows draping over the headrest, unfazed by my accusation. “I was angry, yes. But Cain made sure I acted. I wouldn’t have done it if it weren’t for his bargain hanging over my head, which was to capture you in exchange for Seena’s freedom.”
My mother’s name so casual on his lips feels strange, almost intrusive. I’ve spent years avoiding even thinking it, as if the mere syllables might conjure the pain of her absence.
I feign surprise. “You knew my mother?”