Chapter 16 #2
I swallowed, my eyes darting toward the door. I could do this. I could walk down the hall to Zola’s room.
After a long moment, I peeled back the blankets. She led me down the hall, letting me use her arm for support. I’m sure we looked quite the pair. Me with my six foot tall frame to her five foot seven. I took in every doorway, every shadow, praying I wouldn’t see anyone.
In her room, Zola grabbed a laptop and we got comfortable on the sofa. “Ah,” she sighed, opening browsers for several clothing companies. “I just love online shopping. Makes everything so easy. A century ago, I had to go to the modiste—that’s a dress maker.”
“I know what a modiste is,” I teased. “I read historical romance.”
“But of course!” She sighed, her eyes going slightly unfocused, as if reliving memories. “Just think about what a headache that was, hmm?”
“I don’t know, it sounds kind of nice. What was it like?”
Her expression brightened. She regaled me with stories about fashion in the old days, while we sat there scrolling.
I knew she was doing it to make me feel better.
To distract me. She scoffed every time I turned my nose up at the fashionable options she picked for me.
But eventually, we filled our virtual cart with designer brands I would never in a million years have the funds to pay for.
Vittorio stopped by with our tea service.
His eyes locked on mine and a soft smile appeared on his lips.
I blinked. Had I ever seen him smile at me—truly smile?
It was an expression that prompted me to forgive him for the role his sire involved him in.
“It is good to see you awake, Miss Shaw. I think you will like your tea service this afternoon.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Vittorio. Thank you…for the soup.” I managed something that might have passed for a smile, though it felt hollow.
“Excellent.” He set a tray before us on the coffee table.
My lips parted. “Are those...?”
“Bite sized cinnamon rolls. Yes.”
Each one was perfect, with a dollop of sugary frosting. This time something lighter flickered across my face, cutting through the numbness. “They’re so…so cute. You did this for me?”
“I did, indeed.” Vittorio hesitated, then said, “I am glad you are here, Miss Shaw. Enjoy.”
With that, he disappeared, but his words remained.
We enjoyed our tea service, getting hyped on sugar while spending gobs of money. I’d never had more than a hundred bucks at any one time to spare for clothes. Zola assured me that the household could afford it. They wouldn’t even blink at what we spent.
Still, I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty.
Hours later, she walked me back to my room. My feet dragged with exhaustion. “Good night, darling. Sleep well.” Zola planted a kiss on each of my cheeks before shutting the door behind me.
I was about to climb back into bed when I noticed my purse on the breakfast table. I froze. It was the fancy clutch I’d worn to the Yoshiki party. I hadn’t carried it out with me, when Laur—when he’d thrown me over his shoulder and dragged me out. Which meant…
He’d sent someone back for it.
I raced over and opened it, finding my phone, wallet, everything. My breaths came faster. My phone was dead, naturally. I glanced around and my eyes widened. There was now a new charging station conveniently located on my nightstand.
Who…?
But I knew who, and the thought made my stomach churn. Even thinking about him brought on a wave of fresh panic. I forced him from my thoughts, plugging my phone in to charge.
It turned on. There were tons of texts from Ania, along with a few of my acquaintances, mostly people I knew from the university. My email inbox was stuffed. The thought of looking at it—at any of it—left me light-headed.
I couldn’t tell anyone where I was, what had happened to me.
He must have known that. That’s why he’d given it back.
Zola was telling the truth then, and I didn’t know what to make of it.
If they were fine letting me live a normal life under their protection, why hadn’t they just done that from the beginning?
Why make me go through—
Pain wrenched my stomach. No, I couldn’t think about it.
I wouldn’t let the memories of my time with the witches sweep me away.
And yet, I could still feel that cold table.
I called up an equation, muttering the words out loud to myself, “Dx over dy equals five x minus three.” I focused on each step, isolating dy, taking the log, then working through the rest of the equation.
My pulse slowed.
I collapsed onto the bed, closing my eyes with exhaustion. I had just enough energy to pull the blankets up and over me before I drifted off. Only, it wasn’t the witches waiting. It was something else entirely.
Laurent straightened the cuffs on his tunic, a thrill racing through him. I felt the shiver straight down my spine—his shiver. He caught Marco’s eye—or, I did. We were one and the same.
It was time. I gave my second a nod—my signal.
A thud echoed through the grand room. Then another, and another. Ballroom doors closed in succinct repetition. The palace musicians faltered and the music died, leaving silence that gave way to whispers. A second signal was given.
I unleashed myself, grabbing the nearest body—a female.
She screamed as I tore her throat open, relishing the warm copper taste that flooded my mouth.
It sprayed into the air, collecting in my mouth—such a vibrant taste.
I dropped her. She crumbled lifelessly to the floor, her eyes open, forever glazed with fear.
I threw myself at another body. Blood sprayed, spattering my face, my hair. This one clawed desperately at my face, but her efforts were futile. I silenced her screams permanently.
Panicked screams filled the air.
My vampires moved through the grand room, through the gathered crowd, working quickly.
Body after body dropped. Some fought. Those with the strength for it.
But they were no match for me, for the others.
I enjoyed those the most. Enjoyed ripping their hearts from their chests, their limbs from their bodies.
I laughed, the sound deep and masculine, giving myself over to my bloodlust. Living for it.
I paused to feed on a particularly delicious male.
I drained him. One after another, they fell, humans and supernaturals alike, trapped.
House Sarkas was a tide that could not be stopped—would not be stopped.
We claimed every life, until only the king remained. For him, it would be slow—
My eyes flew open, body trembling from the assault. I whimpered as I stumbled to the bathroom and vomited, attempting to rid myself of the taste of blood. When I finished heaving, I curled into a ball against the wall, breathing, just breathing, until I could make my my mind work.
Memories.
My head was filled with them. Zola had been vague about them, about how her sire had saved me, but I knew enough to know where they’d come from and why.
I called up a new equation.
A sheen of sweat coated my skin. No, I needed something stronger than math. I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the shower. I didn’t look down, couldn’t bear to look at the witch’s brand—
I looked.
The sight of it ripped a sound from my throat—raw, animalistic. My hands moved without conscious thought, nails digging into the branded flesh. I wanted it off. Gone.
I drew blood. A louder sound tore from my chest—part scream, part growl. The sound was almost feral, furious as my skin began to miraculously heal the rents left by my nails. The brand remained.
Exhausted, I collapsed to the shower floor. My ragged breathing mixed with the sound of water trickling into the drain. When I’d awoken from my ordeal, all my wounds were gone, even Henrietta’s. Like they’d never been. Like it had never happened.
Except, the memories would haunt me for a lifetime.
The only thing that hadn’t healed were the scars I carried before the incident. And the brand. It was cauterized skin. I would carry it forever.
I looked down at it, sitting on my hip, low enough to remain hidden by underwear. Bile lifted into my throat. I swallowed, wincing against the sour taste.
Eventually, the water ran cold and left me shivering.
When I returned to bed, I put the TV on. I couldn’t endure the silence. That’s were everything lived. All I could do was pray that things might get better. That my fear might slowly fade. That I might eventually be what I used to be, not this broken thing left in my place.
But…hadn’t I always been broken?