122. The Stranger
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Two
The Stranger
A t precisely fifteen minutes past five the next morning, I land in her bed and pull her sleeping form close. She stirs slightly before nuzzling against me, her fingers clutching at my waist. How easily we fall into this simple comfort between us.
Idly, I twirl a lock of her hair around my fingers, my heart slowly syncing with hers. Another thing I’ve only ever experienced with her, the heartbeat that once barely registered now hammers with her touch.
Her nose scrunches lightly, then relaxes. She infuriated me yesterday with her reckless disregard for her own life. I thought she knew that leaving the realm was not allowed after Hell, but clearly, she takes absurd delight in defying me.
Summer knew I was furious, and she knew exactly what to do to calm me down. She let me take care of her, allowing me to wash the black blood and ash from her hair and body. She didn’t speak the entire time, nor did she try to stop me.
Wise choice.
Then she expedited my forgiveness in her very unique Summer way. In a way that made me feel like we’ve been a couple for years, committed to each other for decades. Her alarm goes off, and I reach over to press the snooze. She nuzzles into me, slinging her thigh over mine.
“We have to get up, princess,” I murmur, kissing her head. She stretches against me like a cat, her eyes opening.
“Morning,” she whispers, sliding her face against me as if scenting me .
My heart stutters at the sign of possession. There are no words of reprimand for my being in her bed. Instead, she almost appears relieved. She moans and hitches her knee higher on my hip. I slide my fingers into her hair and tip her head back, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of her lips.
“We need to go?.?.?.” she murmurs sleepily, but holds on to me tighter. My free hand slides down her back to deliver a sharp spank to her ass. Her lashes lift, and she pouts up at me. “We still need to go.”
“All right,” I say with a sigh, enjoying this time with her too much and hating that I need to let it go. “Go get ready.”
She pushes against me until I roll onto my back, straddling and wiggling against me as she climbs out of bed. She tosses me a grin as she heads to her closet. Fuck. She can’t resist being a brat, but she is so fucking adorable all sleep-mussed.
I will just add it to the list of ways I’m going to discipline her when it’s time. It’s a long list of moments over the last two years that she’s going to pay for. I can practically hear her moans for me to let her come after hours of edging.
Now is not the time.
She emerges from her closet in a pair of dark trousers that tie just under her breasts, knee-high boots, and a blouse.
I slip from the bed, changing my avatar to the glamour of a vampire I once killed.
I weave the same spell over Summer, giving her the same treatment I gave her when we traveled to Hell.
She moves to look at herself in the mirror, and I stand behind her, resting my hands on her shoulders.
“We’re making a habit of this.” I frown and lean down to brush my lips against her ear. “Where am I supposed to nip you now?”
“Here,” she says, tilting her head and tapping her neck.
I lean down and drag my new fangs along her throat, making her groan. She reaches back, sliding her fingers into my hair.
“Do you like me looking this way?” she purrs, gripping my hair tightly.
“Why would I crave an imitation over the real thing?”
She smiles at my response and spins to face me. “We should go.”
I nod, keeping my eyes on her as the portal to Dr?culea opens behind me.
The decrepit architecture looms, the constant overcast sky making the streets even more insidious.
I take her hand and lead her through. The streets are alarmingly empty as we make our way toward the center of the capital.
I wave my hand, and two cloaks drape over us, the hoods magicked so that we can see through them even when they are pulled low over our faces.
We pause next to a flickering gas lamppost. I step behind her, shielding her body as she pulls down one of the many bounty posters for Alice pasted throughout the city.
“This one has a deadline for proof of kill,” I whisper. “It’s the day before her coronation.” Summer reads the notice before crumpling it. “You mentioned they hate her. Why?”
“She refused to comply with their twisted ideals,” she says, taking my hand and tugging me down the street.
She stood out and refused to be hammered down.
No wonder she and Summer were so bonded to each other.
Both are living with swords hanging over their heads, wielded by men who thought to control them, destroy them.
Yet their response is to face their would-be executioners with power and defiance.
There is power in looking those who wish to decimate you in the eyes. A great and deadly power.
Summer darts along the street, holding my hand tightly. She is focused on a news store that is just putting out the day’s papers. She pulls me to stop to read them, and my brows furrow at the words printed in various languages.
“Princess?.?.?.” I warn. This is more than Alice not conforming to their ideals.
Someone is actively shaping the public’s perception of her.
The population is being manipulated by a small percentage.
It would be easy in this realm, with little outside information and conflicting ideas.
There is no one to challenge them except for Alice, so they target her to keep her credibility nonexistent.
Summer glares at the printer, who is making more flyers for distribution, her hands hovering over the sai strapped to her thighs. Wordlessly, I open the shop door for her, gesturing her in.
I reach up and rip the bell from above the door before it alerts anyone, following Summer into the back room. She corners the printer against the wall, her sai at his throat before the vampire even registers our presence.
“What in the name of Drac!” the shopkeeper demands.
“Dracula won’t help you here,” Summer purrs, pressing the blades in deeper. “We saw your flyers.”
“I’m a news printer,” he hisses, and shrinks back against the wall, trying to get away from the sharp edge of her blades.
“News?” Summer snarls, pulling out the bounty poster and shoving it in his face.
“That’s today’s news,” he insists.
“Truly unbiased journalism,” I say, leaning against the wall, watching her with pleasure.
“Who’s paying the bounty?” Summer asks, digging her blades in deeper.
He scrambles to his toes, looking at me as if expecting me to provide some sort of reason or pull her back. As if I am not enjoying seeing Summer embrace this side of herself.
“The proviso!” he shouts, panicking when he realizes I am not going to stop her. “They asked us to print it in every issue with the normal stuff.”
“The proviso should not be convening. This is a period of mourning. Isn’t that what your blood scroll demands?”
“She’s not fit to be queen,” he squeaks. The printing press makes a groaning sound as it finishes another batch of flyers.
“That’s a dangerous view to have,” Summer says, kicking the press without moving her blades, breaking the fragile machine.
It is. Speaking ill of Alice in front of Summer is to court death, and the entire realm of Dr?culea is on her list as a result. She is barely realized, and there will be no survivors if she unleashes.
“How long has the proviso ordered you to print these things about your princess?” I ask, seeing that the papers in the printing press contain even more lies about Alice.
“Never my princess,” the vampire snarls, and Summer presses harder, letting his blood spill.
“How long?” I snap.
His eyes flick wildly between Summer and me. “Since she tampered with the Blood Rite and made herself heir. ”
That would have been over a decade ago. Alice was barely eighteen at the time.
“They believe Alice violated a sacred ceremony to make herself the Heir of Dracula, and the crown princess,” I say, moving to Summer’s side.
Summer’s eyes turn black, and her power flickers in the room, the gas lamps providing light extinguishing. I put my hand on her shoulder, keeping it contained to the room and preventing her from obliterating the building and her target.
“There’s evidence!” he yells, thrashing in Summer’s hold.
“You have ten fucking seconds to convince me to spare your pathetic life. Ten. Nine. Eight,” Summer counts. Her voice is steady, but I can see the bloodlust flooding her body. The ocean of power she contains is starting to leak, rousing my darkness.
“Never shall that bitch be queen,” the vampire grinds out unwisely.
Summer’s sai hums as she slices his head off, his blood sluicing over her. “Ew. Fuck,” she says, wiping the blood from her face.
I brush her hair back, enjoying how stunning she looks covered in blood, the vengeance in her eyes making them glow.
“If they’ve been printing this since she was named heir, that means she’s been the subject of a public perception campaign for over a decade.
Perception has turned from belief to truth in the eyes of her people. ”
The constant barrage of a story with no voice to the contrary has led the public down a dangerous path.
No one has spoken up for Alice, or has attempted to challenge these beliefs, so they have become the truth.
No doubt with the regent dead, even more of her people have turned against her. She is a queen reviled by her people.
Summer’s eyes flicker, and she turns to the broken press.
Cutting her hand, she uses the blood to draw the rune to ignite the pieces.
The fire flares and grows, her eyes mirroring the flames.
I hold my hand out to her as the lies turn to ash.
She slides her hand into mine, and I am the only one who will ever know that her hand is trembling at this moment.
Only I will know her rage and despair. Only I will ever see the resolution in her eyes and the plan forming there.