Chapter 60
Wolf blood flows over my tongue and down my throat, but instead of energizing me, it burns. It’s a bitter taste, like vengeance and regret intertwined. Yes, the dark chocolate of the wolf is there, but Eris is part demon, and that flavor overtakes the richness.
Demon blood.
Eris is only half demon. The blood of a full demon would set me on fire from the inside out.
Her body tenses beneath me, and even as her eyes flash with anger, they also hold a strange sense of relief.
I pull away, releasing her from my jaw. There’s no savoring this victory. I spit the blood onto the ground, the taste of it lingering like an acrid reminder of what I must do.
The win is bittersweet. A part of me revels in the triumph, relishes in the validation that I am more than just a half-vampire bound to my father and the blood lust.
Another part of me grieves for Eris. She may be my enemy and fated mate to the man I love, but she’s also a pawn in my stepfather’s game.
We have that in common.
My ultimate beef isn’t with this demon-wolf.
It’s with her king. My stepfather.
She’s not unlike me—trapped between two worlds and not truly belonging to either.
You have no choice.
I’m not sure the thought comes from Alara, my father, or simply myself.
Whoever it is, the sentiment rings true. There’s a reason Alara said I had to kill her.
Eris won’t stop. The demon within her thrives on the ferocity of her wolf half, and she’ll continue fighting until she claims Rogan as her own.
For that to happen, I can’t exist.
The child inside me can’t exist.
“Just do it,” Eris grits out, her voice low and wild. “You have the upper hand, vampire.”
“Your blood tastes like shit,” I retort.
“No one forced you to drink it.”
She’s not wrong. I wipe the traces of it from my lips, looking around—
I gasp. A silver dagger lies beside me. A gift from Alara? From my father? From the ether? All I know is that it wasn’t there before.
Eris’s golden eyes meet mine, and in them I see a spark of understanding. Maybe even respect.
“Know this,” I say, grabbing the dagger and gripping it firmly. “This wasn’t my choice. It was never my choice.”
Then I plunge the dagger into Eris’s heart.
She growls, grunts. “Fucking vampire cunt!”
Her naked form shakes, shudders, until wolf hair sprouts, her snout elongates, and her fingernails sharpen.
But she changes only halfway as she gasps for air. “You may have his heart, his child,” she says on her last breath, “but you’ll never have his soul.”
Her body stops writhing as the last bit of air leaves her lungs.
I regard her.
Half wolf, half demon, her golden eyes now unseeing.
A pathetic sight. Almost tragic, to be sure. Is it Eris’s fault that she was fated to be Rogan’s mate? That she was half demon?
She didn’t choose her lot in life any more than I chose mine.
She can no longer take Rogan from me. She can no longer hurt me or my child.
But this is far from over.
For I now know the true reason for Alara’s teachings. They weren’t for defeating Eris. I did that on my own.
I offer the corpse a final victorious grin before turning away.
I ache with pain and exhaustion. Every bone in my body screams at me to collapse, but I stay strong. I walk away with my head held up high despite the agony searing through me.
Because the battle with Eris was only a prelude.
The real war is just beginning.
I walk until I can’t hear the wind rasping through her lifeless fur.
Until the scent of blood—her blood—isn’t the only thing clouding my senses.
But it still lingers. In my mouth. In my lungs.
On my skin. The demon in her clings to me like smoke that won’t wash off.
I can’t tell if I feel sick because of the blood or because of what I’ve done.
Killing her should have given me peace.
I saved myself and my child from her wrath.
I saved Rogan from being her fated mate.
A moon cuts through the clouds above. The ether is grand, to be sure. Existing existentially but also in reality. I perceive it, and perception is reality, after all.
I tighten my hand around the hilt of the dagger still slick with Eris’s blood. It feels like the only thing keeping me tethered to my purpose—a purpose that’s shifted so quickly that I barely recognize it.
It was never about Eris.
It was never about Rogan’s love, not truly.
It’s always been about my stepfather. About control. Power.
Perhaps even about lineage and survival. I touch my abdomen.
The child inside me stirs. He is the link. And if my stepfather has his way, my baby will be snuffed out like everything else he’s touched.
He’ll come for me. My mother be damned. In the end, he won’t care that killing me and my unborn child will hurt her. She’s lost most of her emotion anyway. To her, I’ll be a simple memory that makes her smile weakly but then drifts away.
Now that Eris is dead, Richard knows the threads are unraveling. His carefully placed pieces have started to fall.
But he’ll find me different now.
I’m not the girl I was when he married my mother.
Hell, I’m not the same woman I was moments ago, before I sank my fangs into a demon-wolf.
I’ve tasted darkness and survived it.
I’ve ended a fate that wasn’t mine and claimed one that is.
The air thickens around me. I can feel them watching. My stepfather’s spies, maybe. Or my father’s. Or Dominic’s. The pack’s.
I keep walking, hoping to find a portal home.
Because if I stop now, I’ll break.
I won’t give Richard that.
No.
He once forced me to my knees.
The next time I face him, he’ll drop to his fucking knees.
He will see the child he abused and called a monster has become something far worse.
A mother.
A survivor.
And soon…his end.