34. Rae
RAE
I remembered hearing in one of my psychology classes in undergrad that people usually responded to a trauma in one of three ways: fight, flight, or freeze. I guessed I was the latter, because shock stunned me, even as a million thoughts flew through my mind. But I kept coming back to the same one.
This is supposed to be pleasurable?
That was what the guys had said on our way to the party, that humans and vampires alike loved the sensation of being drunk from feeding. Even if I erased the part where the man tearing at me had dragged me by the hair, the sensation in my neck was nothing but agony as he snarled.
Fight, flight, or freeze.
Was I seriously a freeze? My mind flitted back to the scene in the greenhouse with Simon. The way he’d been able to back me against the glass. Would I have merely stayed frozen while he attacked me? How about when Rhys and Pax kidnapped me and brought me to Lumaria? I hadn’t even argued.
Sure, I’d been sick as hell and weak enough that a baby could’ve taken me out, but I hadn’t even tried. That wasn’t who I wanted to be. Someone who simply let life happen to her. Someone who could be controlled.
Snippets of other memories flickered like hazy snatches of film.
The pressure from my birth mother, Imogen, to harness more power from my magic.
The constant criticism from my birth father, Mikel, making me feel like a failure.
They were hardly parents of the year, but I’d never even tried to stand up to them.
And now? I was simply letting Rhys and Kian drag me around like I was luggage.
A different sort of buzz lit beneath my skin. It wasn’t like when my fated touched me. This felt hotter, more volatile. Angry.
The heat zipped through my veins as my vision started to flicker. Even as my rage kept me conscious, I knew that I was losing too much blood.
The Nocturnae suddenly jerked back with a curse. “What the fuck?” he snarled.
I stumbled out of his grasp, turning and holding a hand to my bleeding neck. The sticky substance between my fingers was hot to the touch.
“Did you just zap me?” he growled.
The man had that same perma-thirties look as many of the Nocturnae with longish, raven-colored hair and dark-blue eyes sparking with anger. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as his lip curled. My blood.
Oh, crap on a cracker.
He did not look happy. He’d also managed to position himself between me and the door. Could I scream? Would the guards hear me?
“You think you can use your magic on me, witch?” He prowled toward me. “I’m going to drink it all. Four mates means you’re the most powerful in our lifetime. Just think how much that will fuel me.”
My brain struggled to pull together the pieces of what he was saying. My blood held my magic? And he wanted it?
I started to back away as he moved toward me, then stopped. No more running. No more freezing.
The man’s head cocked to the side. “Not gonna run, witch bitch?”
I didn’t look away from him, even as my free hand dropped to my side. I felt for the tiny statue of a dragon I’d seen on the side table earlier, not much bigger than a large coffee mug. But it had looked solid. When my fingers curled around the cool stone, I knew I was right.
“I’m done running.” As I spoke the words, I pulled at all the anger I’d felt stirring—the rage at Simon the Sleaze, Luminary parents who didn’t give a damn about me, being ripped from a life I loved, having my choices stolen…
Then I hurled the statue at the Nocturnae with every ounce of that fury behind it.
And to my absolute and utter shock, it hit true, right in the man’s head. He stumbled back a few steps, clutching at his temple. If he’d been human, it likely would’ve killed him.
But he wasn’t human.
He slowly straightened. “For that, I’m going to make it hurt.”
He lunged, and I let out a bloodcurdling scream. But I didn’t stop there. This time, I fought. My strength was nothing compared to his, but I didn’t let that deter me. I scratched at his face and kicked at his legs as he grabbed me.
Fangs plunged into my neck again, and I cried out as I ripped at his hair. But it was too little, too late. My vision blurred, and my ears rang.
But through it all, I heard a crash—my door flying open.
A dark god… No, more like a demon from hell itself.
Rhys prowled toward us as the Nocturnae released me. I crashed to the floor, unable to even stand or speak. I struggled for each breath as I heard the man stammer some bullshit apology.
He seemed to be begging, pleading. “I-I was trying to free you, my King. I knew you didn’t want to be bound to her,” he struggled to get out.
Rhys’s amber eyes blazed with golden fury. “Did you, now?”
“I was doing it for you.”
“You thought I’d be happy that you’d lay even a single finger on my fated? On my future wife? On your future Queen?”
“I…I…” The man lost hold of any sort of words, but Rhys didn’t need them.
He lunged, gripping the man by the shirt and grabbing his chin. “You will be the example I need.”
“My Ki—” The man couldn’t finish because his head was suddenly ripped clean off his body and tossed to the floor. His body soon joined it.
Rhys bent, wiping his bloodied hands on the dead man’s shirt and then spitting on the corpse.
My breaths came faster, even as my vision tunneled, more black spots dancing. This wasn’t happening.
I faintly heard a muttered curse, and then Rhys was crouching before me. “Petite étincelle. Look at me.”
I tried, but I couldn’t get my eyes to focus, and I was suddenly so damned cold.
Another curse.
Through blurred vision, I saw Rhys bite into his wrist. But that didn’t make sense. Why would he bite himself?
A second later, he shoved the wrist against my lips. I tried to bat it away, but I was so weak that I barely managed to lift my hand.
I expected the taste of something coppery and disgusting to fill my mouth. I was so incredibly wrong. It was like the richest chocolate mingled with the most full-bodied wine, with a hint of smoke. And it was the best thing I’d ever tasted.