Chapter 23
Balthazar
A huge bang shook the room as I kicked the bedroom door open, and it hit the wall, bursting the hinges. Sor’s body tensed, and she squealed, sitting bolt upright on the bed. Her face was ashen, and sweat glistened on her skin as she gripped the sheets.
Vito had likely told her she’d been poisoned.
I’d ordered him to stay and help her, threatening him with death if anything else happened.
Yet the shock on her face as she stared at Shane in my arms made me wonder how much of this shit show of an evening she remembered.
Her eyes widened as I strode forward. Shane was huge, but that didn’t stop me.
My strength far outweighed my appearance.
“Oh my goodness, what happened?”
“Someone poisoned him, too.”
She shook her head. “No. No. That’s not…Oh no, he went after them, didn’t he? The ones who poisoned me?”
The guilt on her face killed me. “He did. But that’s on him, not you. None of this is your fault.”
I lay Shane on his back on the bed. Dried blood had crusted on his mouth and chin and oozed from his chest wounds, thick and so dark it was almost black.
“They hurt him, too?” she whispered, reaching out to touch his colourless lips.
“Yes. Arrows. But that’s my blood on his mouth. I tried to save him, but he couldn't swallow. Hemlock poisoning isn’t usually fatal for most supernaturals. For Shane, it is.”
It wasn’t a lie. Most supernaturals could fight it.
It made them nauseous, would leave them with a stinking headache, and, for some, it caused paralysis.
But if they could be ventilated and cared for while their body fought it, it wouldn’t kill them.
For Shane, it would, but telling her why would reveal my biggest weakness.
At my words, her face lost all of its remaining colour, and the panic that I’d so far managed to suppress raged forward.
Fuck it! No matter the consequences, I couldn’t lose Shane. I couldn’t let her lose him either. I tipped her chin up. “Look at me, Sor. We can save him.”
“How?”
Her voice was barely more than a whisper as tears tipped from her eyes.
I brushed them away with my thumbs. This poison was utterly fatal to me.
And because he carried my blood, it was lethal to Shane.
The hemlock not only attacked my nervous system; it also stopped my blood from clotting.
Regardless of his immortality, it would kill him.
Not even someone as old as me could survive complete blood loss and paralysis.
Yet, how the fuck his attacker knew that, when I was the only one alive who did, was terrifying. And I wasn’t easily terrified.
Long distant memories flooded my mind. My family had killed powerful and ancient demons, those Original vampires that had escaped from Hell and created all of our kind.
They had become too vicious and blood thirsty, with no control over their lust for killing.
And it had always been done with hemlock, the only guaranteed way to end them.
Only I should have that dangerous knowledge.
It should be long dead and buried with their ashes in the remotest corner of this world.
My heartbeat thudded a double rhythm, vibrating against my ribs. That split beat echoed in my ears as cold fingers of fear gripped my throat. Were Shane and Sor in more danger than I’d realised? Were we all?
I forced myself to breathe slowly. I hadn’t succumbed to fear since the day my family had been cruelly executed, and a usurper had taken the Blood Throne with his army of Mades.
They’d turned my home into a bloodbath. No one had been exempt from the slaughter.
My wife, my children, my brothers and sisters in arms, they had all perished.
The only survivor, besides me, had been a tiny child of less than a year old who, on my order, had been hidden beneath a drain in the throne room by his mother.
I’d fought and killed that day until my body shook, but ultimately, there’d been too many of them. I’d been weakened with blood loss and overwhelmed by their sheer numbers.
I clenched my teeth as a sharp phantom pain lanced my chest. I’d never forget it.
The agony as they drove a stake into my heart then ripped it free, laughing and jeering as I bled out.
I’d lain on top of that drain cover, my blood hitting that babe’s lips until I bled no more.
They’d set my home alight and left me for dead.
But I was hard to kill. A fact they’d neglected to fully consider.
The old crone had found me and the child, burned and barely alive.
Cackling like it was the most amusing thing she’d ever done, she’d given me her blood, and in turn, I’d fed the child.
I’d slowly recovered from my injuries and burns, and bided my time, living in the shadows and keeping a low profile.
I raised Stefan and slowly built my army and a legion of supporters.
For hundreds of years, we spread the word that one of the Korlov Korolevski bloodline was alive, and that there was a true descendant of the Original gods alive, whose rightful place was upon the Blood Throne.
We gained more and more supporters who were ready to believe there was a saviour who would rid the world of the bloodthirsty false king.
When our enemy had become arrogant enough to believe he was indestructible, I led our army into battle and killed him and all of his followers.
It had given me more pleasure than I’d ever admit to bleed each one until they were too weak to move, and then listen to their screams as they burned alive.
Unlike them, I made sure all my enemies were dead before I walked away.
Stefan Korlov Korolevski was in power because of me.
I’d put him on the Blood Throne. I’d protected him for nearly a millennium, making sure he kept it.
He was a good king. Ruthless when he needed to be, and benevolent to those who deserved his respect and kindness.
I had no interest in sitting on the Blood Throne; I never had.
Now, I had an empire that was more than big enough to satisfy my need for power, and an army of loyal followers who would die for me and each other.
Yet, I’d constantly felt as though I was waiting for something—or someone, an emptiness in my soul that had only grown as each year passed.
Until Shane and Sor had barrelled into my life, and the old crone's cackling prediction, right before she bade me to end her life, had roared in my ears.
Had they poisoned Shane, knowing that, because he had my blood in his veins, it would kill him, or was it a coincidence? I took a steady breath. Unlikely. I didn’t believe in coincidences. Destiny had caught up with us all. They had used a different poison in Sor because they knew what she was.
“It’s not me who can save him, little bird. This time only you can.”