The Thirst
Ezra’s ears perked when he heard a faint snuffle followed by a cry. He moved without thinking of the cataclysmic consequences to come.
He stood over the heiress of Night Falls and watched her arms flail and her legs kick from the fur swaddle.
He was mesmerized by her. She was small and warm despite her vampirism, and already the spitting image of the queen.
He could foresee the troubles the child would cause from the time she could walk.
She would have the entire court wrapped around her fingers, and her father wouldn’t stand a chance.
She’d take after her mother—intelligent and sharp with a touch of cunning that could leave the wisest man puzzled.
Denalia would be unstoppable.
“Fret not, Little One,” he whispered, lifting her from the bassinet.
He held her close, bouncing her as he paced the bedchamber. A vicious snarl brought his attention to the window.
Ezra’s skin prickled with fear when he found himself face to face with a newborn mother—an extremely deadly combo. She was territorial and hungry with low impulse control. The slightest misstep could cost him dearly.
He fastened his eyes on the floor as a sign of respect and to avoid her pupils that had enlarged from adrenaline and pure rage.
A guttural growl rumbled from her throat.
Ezra dropped his head and slowly offered her the child.
It felt like an eternity before the small weight was lifted from his palms. He didn’t look up until he heard the creak of the rocking chair.
Matilda glanced over her shoulder as she tended to Denalia.
“Forgive me, Ezra. My emotions are complicated.”
“I expected nothing else,” he said breathlessly, grateful he didn’t become her first full meal. “Where is Luka?”
“I did the kingdom a favor and killed him,” she confessed.
Ezra froze. “I beg your pardon?”
“I disposed of his body in the same grave he buried me. The maggots shall feast on him soon.”
“Matilda,” he whispered, fear and disbelief clutching his chest.
“Queen Alesi,” she corrected, voice dark and malevolent.
“Y-you jest.”
“Believe that if it soothes you; however, you and every living being in Night Falls shall acknowledge my ascent to the throne. I will bathe in the blood of my opposition. Pledge your loyalty to me at once, Ezra of Noble House Gustafson.”
“I—”
“Why do you torture him so?” Luka asked from the doorway.
She dropped her head with an annoyed groan; Ezra collapsed onto the bed with a sigh.
“You spoil everything you touch,” she said accusingly. “I nearly had him.”
Luka’s eyes narrowed on Ezra. “Yes. It did not take much for him to consider.”
Ezra ran a hand through his long hair and licked his lip anxiously. “She threw you out of a window. It was not difficult to believe she’d bring you to a violent end.”
“I am still angry, yet he is more valuable to me alive than dead,” Matilda answered, finally settling Denalia, who clutched at the front of the tattered gown that was now more robe than gown.
She closed her eyes at the sudden, sharp stabbing pains in her gut.
She shifted Denalia from her arm to her shoulder, smoothing her hand up and down her back.
“Do you hunger?” Luka asked, pushing himself off the door frame and approaching her. She waved him off.
“What happens now?” she asked, getting straight to business.
Ezra straightened, returning to formalities.
“The nobles have been informed of your turning.”
Matilda’s jaw tightened. “Already?”
“Time was of the essence. There was no reason to delay, especially with Denalia’s arrival.” His eyes moved briefly to the infant. “Her arrival complicates matters.”
“How so?” Matilda snapped.
“King Alesi securing a queen and bearing an heir will upset those who wished to see us weakened or wished for a regime change. The wolves will become desperate, especially if Luka has regained the trust and curried favor with the nobles.”
“Then it is in Prince Lykaon’s best interest to accept a peace treaty,” Matilda mentioned.
Luka nodded. “It would, but unmated wolves are impulsive and unpredictable.”
Matilda raised a brow. She’d never thought about it before. Prince Lykaon didn’t have a mate. If he had, he would bear the title of king.
“Royal wolves can only be bonded to their mates as destined by their deity,” Luka answered. “He has not found his and shall remain a prince until he does.”
Ezra cleared his throat and continued. “There will need to be an official decree that confirms your status, your transformation, and your position within the kingdom.”
“Will there be ceremonies?” she asked, looking down at her daughter again, at the steady rise and fall of her chest. The very child who had anchored her through death and brought her back again.
“Yes, you will have an official coronation,” he answered.
As the men conversed, Matilda’s concentration drifted to the stabbing pangs in her stomach and the burn that clawed at her throat.
A sharp inhale dragged through her lungs as every muscle in her body went rigid.
Denalia stirred gently against her, and that alone was enough to force Matilda to refocus.
But it wasn’t long before all she could think about was quenching her blood thirst. This time, her hunger was deeper.
It felt like it hollowed her from the inside, and every heartbeat in the room became unbearable.
Especially the heartbeat that fluttered in her hold.
It was Luka who noticed first.
Gently, he removed Denalia from her hands and passed her to Ezra.
“We must not delay, Matilda.”
“I am fine.”
The lie died on her tongue as her body continued to betray her. Her gaze dropped to the small thump against his throat.
“No,” he said softly, gathering her hands in his. He lifted her to her feet. “Not like this. You will lose control.”
“Just a little, my King,” she whispered. Her voice was thin and broke on each word as she stroked his face. Ignorance would see affection; however, Luka knew how manipulative vampires could be to get what they wanted. Matilda was full of deceit and lies, but she wasn’t to blame. It was the thirst.
The hunger surged again. This time, violent enough to bend her forward, her hands bracing against her stomach.
“Fix it,” she whimpered.
A dark, twisted, and delightful thought came to Luka.
“Let us journey to the dungeon where you may feast to your heart’s content.”
“What awaits me in the dungeon?” she asked curiously.
“Draven.”
Matilda went still, then smiled. “Lead the way.”
Minutes later, they descended into the dungeon together. Their footsteps echoed through the narrow stone corridor, and the deeper they traveled, the colder the air became. Torches flickered along damp walls, illuminating iron doors and the occasional curious face peering from behind the bars.
Matilda could hear the rapid beat of Draven’s heart long before they reached his cell.
Luka heard the moment her breathing changed. He glanced at her, and found her staring straight ahead with her fangs bared.
“Tilda.”
“I am in control.”
He raised a brow. “Who told you that you needed to be?”
“No one,” she whispered.
“There is no need to hold yourself back. Do as your thirst commands you.”
Finally, they arrived at the cell. Draven wrestled against his chains when Luka produced a key. “What do you plan on doing to me?” he asked, noticing the murderous gleam in Matilda’s eyes.
The door swung open. Draven backed away when Matilda floated in.
“I formally challenged King Alesi for his throne. Whatever grievance you believe you have against me is irrelevant. There are laws!”
“Are there?” she questioned.
“My challenge was legitimate!”
Matilda continued toward him.
“I don’t care about your challenge.”
“You cannot simply execute me!”
“This isn’t about Luka.”
Draven’s back met the wall.
Matilda stopped before him.
“You murdered two children, and you left their bodies beside that river because you knew I would find them. Then you threatened to continue slaughtering innocents until I agreed to assassinate Luka.”
“I did what was necessary.”
Whatever remained of Matilda’s restraint disappeared.
“They were children,” she hissed, seizing him by his tunic. Draven had barely managed a shout before Matilda drove him against the stone. Her fangs sank into his throat.
The first rush of blood nearly overwhelmed her, and then hunger took control.
She drank greedily, gripping Draven tighter when he began struggling. His fists struck her shoulders. His feet scraped uselessly against the floor.
Luka remained at the entrance, watching as Draven’s struggles weakened. His blows became feeble until they ceased altogether.
Still, Matilda drank until the frantic pounding of his heart slowed until silence filled the cell.
Finally, she released him. She stood over his body that had crumpled at her feet—blood staining her mouth and chest rising and falling as the terrible burn in her throat finally subsided.
Luka approached cautiously.
“Are you satisfied, my love?” he asked, gently wiping blood from the corner of her mouth.
“Deeply.”
Luka leaned in and kissed her temple. “As am I.”