35
RIVERS OF BLOOD
HENRY
B lack blood oozes from the vampire’s chest as his wounds weep, dripping thick, sticky liquid onto the floor. I’ve tasted enough of it to know his secrets, despite his fucking feeble attempts to hide them.
I know his status in the Blackthorn coven.
I know his discussions with Rowan and that meddlesome priest Emmanuel rid me of.
I know all their plans and dreams and desires for what will happen once I’m gone. Once Ivy’s gone.
I’m after something different.
Something more satisfying. More soothing.
Something bloodier and more horrific that will quell my rage.
The smell of iron and copper lingers in the air as sulfur and heat blaze through the dungeons. The flames from the torches flicker low, poorly lighting the dark, damp chamber and the shadows cast are eerie. Malevolent. Fucking glorious. They’re adding to a somewhat fitting setting for the darkness I intend to unleash, although nothing will come close to the shades of violence inside of me.
Drips count the seconds and I don’t care if they’re blood or water trickling onto the floor. I’d prefer if it was blood—his blood—but draining him too quickly will bring this to an end far sooner than I’d like. Far sooner than he deserves. Far sooner than I need.
If I drag this out and use his time well, it’ll sate the fury racing through my blood. My rage is uncontainable and every strike or lash only heightens it, sending more and more anger and violence rippling through my being and through my fucking soul.
The cunt dangling from the dungeon ceiling dared to attack Ivy. He attacked my fucking mate in my fucking house. When she should have been safe. When she was wearing my fucking collar and I’m not standing for that shit. Not here. Not now. Not fucking ever.
I’m going to make a fucking example out of this wanker.
It’s a lesson he and every other cunt who’s even considering thinking about hurting Ivy need to learn.
The vampire moans as my claws peel back another piece of skin, tearing it off his body like it’s a fucking plaster sticking everything in place. Flaying someone is an ancient skill lost to modern methods, but it’s always proved effective. Aurelius himself taught me how to drag this out, although he used it sparingly. It’s always induced fear and horror and afforded me the reputation I fucking deserve.
It’s always the little things that cause the most pain.
It isn’t the breaking of bones or the deep wound that cuts deep into your chest.
It’s the small loss of hope. The sharp pain of a thousand cuts. The gradual realization that agony and suffering are all there is and all that ever will be. It’s the emotional component of the pain that makes it so noxious, heightening the unpleasant stimuli and turning it into something even more despicable.
And I am truly despicable.
Truly wicked.
In this moment, more than any I have endured or witnessed, I know evil and it is me. I am darkness and its depravity. I am lawlessness and its delight. I am all you fear and loathe, all you pray you never encounter and more, and I won’t back down.
The vampire’s back arches as he tries to move away, still fighting as he clings to hope. He hasn’t broken, but he will, both in body and in mind. I’ll torment him for an eternity if necessary, and it won’t be his decision. He doesn’t have a choice now. He’s here and he’s accepting the inevitability of his fate as the hope he’ll survive begins to fade.
“Rowan’s not coming for you,” I say. Cold and calculated. Hard and unfeeling. “This is all there is now.” I step toward him and drag my nail over his skin, shredding more in preparation for its removal. “There’s only me. Only my wrath.” I pull some skin back and the rip is a symphony of pain and pleasure. “Only pain and suffering.”
He screams as I tear a large flap of skin away, leaving most of the muscles in his thigh exposed. They glisten in the flame light and the blood oozing from them paints a beautiful picture, running like torrents after a downpour or rivers after a flood.
“I don’t give a shit, you cunt.”
He’s still got some fight left, which will make this more entertaining.
“She deserves to die.”
He’s trying to bait me into killing him, and I’m far too experienced to let that happen.
“Rowan’s going to find her and kill her after he’s done whatever the fuck he wants with her.”
He smiles like he’s scored a point and I’m generous enough to allow him this delusion. It’ll make what comes next more painful, more poetic, more exquisite.
“Maybe he’ll let his coven have some fun with her first.”
He’s fucking predictable and it’s boring as hell. Threatening Ivy angers me, but my temper’s known this kind of temptation before and it won’t break easily.
“That won’t work.”
I stalk around his hanging body and run my claws down his back. Deep wounds open as the streaks scream violence and his cries herald the pain ripping through his body.
“I’ve been around longer than most. Long enough to be exceptionally patient. Long enough to take my time and enjoy every fucking second of this.”
The vampire screams and I wait, relishing the sounds of his defeat as they reverberate around the dungeon. The stone walls sing the songs of sorrow and surrender as my soul rejoices at the not-so-subtle suffering.
“Rowan will come.”
I laugh so low it’s menacing and even the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “You were a fucking fool for attacking my mate, but it’s impossible to underestimate you.”
The asshole laughs.
He tips his head back as he dangles in my chains and fucking laughs .
“I’ll never surrender, Henry. Never give you the peace of mind your soul’s pleading for mine to grant. You’re as pathetic as your fucking feeble whore of a mate and the gods will drag you down to hell like the abomination that you are.”
Interesting.
His blood didn’t taste of zealotry.
There wasn’t even a trace of it in the metal tang and bitterness of centuries lived in Rowan’s shadow.
“The gods have always favored me,” I say, letting a false hint of doubt creep into my tone. “I have served them well and they have rewarded me in kind. I don’t doubt their loyalty.”
“They doubt yours,” he screams as my claws dig into his muscles and slowly shred them, ripping their fibers as I inadvertently strip some from the bone.
I’m losing control and I pause, regaining the composure that almost cost me my reward. The vampire whose name I don’t remember because it makes no fucking difference almost got the better of me and I can’t afford to let it happen. Not when it appears there’s more to learn than his blood revealed.
There’s something hidden in his soul, contained within the depths of his memories. I know it, in the way a predator knows which way its prey’s going to move. It’s in the tensing of his muscles, the slight uptick of his jaw. The subtle change in smell and the seismic shift in his voice.
He’s cocky. He’s sure. He’s fucking with me and I’m going to make damn sure I win this round. And all the fucking rounds that follow until I’ve had my fill and extracted every ounce of pain and suffering and humiliation.
I snarl and the door creaks, stopping me from flaying more skin from the cunt’s mangled, wretched body.
“I thought you might need supplies,” Ryan says, stepping into the torchlight with an expression that betrays not one fucking sign of weakness or dissent.
He flashes the packs of blood in his hand and the vampire groans, aware we’re going to feed him and heal some of his wounds. It’s not kindness and using his immortality to hurt him more should weaken his resolve unless he’s so lost in his ideology he’s abandoned all reason.
“For you, or that fucker?”
I love Ryan.
Truly.
He’s more than a brother and he’s kept alive in more ways than one. It’s hard to describe the friendship we share and the trauma of our transformation was only the beginning of our bond. We were briefly enemies when I served Marcus Aurelius and he led the Gauls, almost killing each other in battle before our deaths were taken from us, and now we’re a part of each other’s existence neither of us could live without.
“Both,” I say, wearily. “I’m far from done. It’s going to be a long night. Or longer.”
Ryan nods and doesn’t bother smirking.
“She’s fine,” he says, handing me a unit of blood. “Quite comfortable and not at all phased.” The expression on his face suggests otherwise as he turns his back to the fucker who caused it. “Cuddling up in Matt’s lap like a perfect little pet. I assumed you wouldn’t object, in this instance.”
I nod.
I fucking mind my pet curled up in anyone’s lap other than my own, but she needs comfort and I need to be here.
His eyes light with the glory of a victory I don't understand. He flicks them toward the vampire he's stalking toward and smirks, wicked. Iniquitous. In full fucking control.
“Feeding time. ”
Ryan's claws pierce the blood bag and he forces just enough into the other vampire's mouth to start the healing process. Not one drop more. It's artful. Precise. Fucking elegant to watch.
“You didn't think the Brotherhood were on your side, did you?”
The vampire screeches as his bones knit together and his joints find their sockets, clicking back into place. The trickles of blood run slower and the strands of muscle I've spent hours separating begin to organize themselves, finding order instead of the carnage I've caused.
“He did.”
Ryan's eyes darken to the color of the depths of the ocean and he forces a few more drops of blood down the cunt's throat.
“Did he give you everything you need?”
“No.”
My voice is definitive. My judgment final.
“It's hard to conceal the truth when blood reveals all. There's only one way I know, Henry. I assume a deviant priest bound it behind the darkness of the unknown.”
The vampire's face falls for the briefest of moments. It lasts for a mayfly's heartbeat and I'd miss it if I wasn't paying attention. But it’s the tell that gives away the whole damn mystery and Ryan’s closing in on his triumph. One he’ll claim without taking mine.
“I’ll summon Emmanuel.”
Ryan hisses and the sound echoes around the cell. “The Brotherhood believes they’re infallible and their protection is absolute.” He drags a nail down the vampire’s chest, drawing blood and another scream of pain. “They’re mistaken. Grossly mistaken. ”
The vampire thrashes, kicking wildly as his body writhes and swings on the chains suspending him from the ceiling. It’s futile and the panic is exquisite, his fear feeding my darkness and making me crave more. Much more.
I arch my eyebrow as Ryan laughs.
“The rite is surprisingly easy,” Ryan says, taunting the flailing vampire who knows his torture’s going to escalate. “It’s fucking painful, though. I’d rather have my balls chopped off and stuffed down my throat than endure it.”
Liquid hits the floor and it isn’t blood.
I smirk, ignoring the fact that if I was facing Ryan, I’d probably piss myself too.
“I’ll tell you what you need to know…”
The cunt’s cries crescendo as Ryan tortures him without lifting a fucking finger. He plays him like a fucking instrument, conducting the music of the torture chamber with a skill I almost envy.
“You’re wasting your breath,” Ryan says, drawing some runes on the floor in blood. “It’s no effort at all and this will give us the certainty we need. Consider this a gift. Few learn they are the source of their own torture.”
Light bursts from the runes, exploding faster than my eyes can track and burning brighter than the light of day. The vampire makes a sound only those who’ve heard the inhuman and unworldly screams of agonizing, soul-destroying pain and anguish know. A noise filled with torment and despair, misery and desolation. It’s a note that only sounds when hope is lost and there’s no purer tone in the whole of existence.
The light burns away the vampire’s skin. Ryan and I remain untouched, spared the indignity of the exposure we’ve inflicted on the wanker writhing in his chains. The rite Ryan performed may be unknown to me, but it’s working as its magic peels back layer after layer of its victim’s facade, demolishing the barriers that contain the truth.
“Whenever you’re ready, Henry.”
I don’t hesitate and plunge my fangs into the despicable, detestable creature’s fleshing, feeding on its blood as if it’s worthwhile. As if it’s wholesome or nourishing.
Memories flood through me and I shift through the images of those he’s claimed. Of victims young and old, weak and strong. Of lives taken and souls destroyed. Of death and destruction and the joy he’s taken in inflicting such devastation.
And then I find the memory I’ve been searching for. The meeting between Rowan and the rebellious priests. The details of their arrangement are laid bare and the implication of their deals sits as heavily on my heart as any sin I’ve ever committed.
Rowan didn’t enter this freely, and his hand was forced. He didn’t want to risk open conflict or my wrath, but they left him no choice, outmaneuvering him and leaving him with no option but to comply. His life is forfeit unless he kills me or Ivy, and the blood oath he’s sworn cannot be broken.
He might have been a powerful vampire, but the rebellious priests usurped his might. Their zealotry knows no limits, and they’re convinced their cause is righteous. They’ve lost their fucking minds to their obsessive beliefs and obsession with the purity of the bloodlines.
And it’s dangerous. Fucking dangerous.
For the Brotherhood. For the covens. For me and Ivy.
I scream with unadulterated rage and slash through the fucker’s neck, severing his carotid. Blood sprays in spurts of crimson, painting the chamber in the horror of a stolen life, and Ryan’s eyes snap to mine, questioning if he should heal the wound and let me extract more vengeance .
I shake my head and stand back, admiring my handiwork as the life drains from the vampire. I wait, letting every fucking gram of agony drain from him and finally—only when the last drop of blood from the wretched, deviant fucker falls onto the floor—do I sever his head completely, savoring the sound as his body turns to ash.
“I thought you’d want more,” Ryan says, surprised as dust plumes around us.
“Rowan isn’t orchestrating this. The fucking faction is behind the entire fucking thing.”
We leave the dungeons and walk through the castle, and I make damn sure the coven bears witness to the blood that marks my ruthlessness. There might be a traitor in our midst and if being a vicious, brutal, ruthless killer who’s prepared to shed the blood of countless vampiresis is what I must become to protect his human mate, then it’s a price I’m more than willing to pay to keep Ivy safe.