Ruined by Blood (The Vampires' Fae Book 3)

by Sadie Moss

  Ruined by Blood

  The Vampires’ Fae #3

  Sadie Moss

  Copyright © 2018 by Sadie Moss

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or had, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Contents

  1. Willow

  2. Sol

  3. Willow

  4. Willow

  5. Jerrett

  6. Willow

  7. Malcolm

  8. Willow

  9. Willow

  10. Willow

  11. Jerrett

  12. Willow

  13. Sol

  14. Willow

  15. Malcolm

  16. Willow

  17. Willow

  18. Jerrett

  19. Sol

  20. Willow

  21. Willow

  22. Willow

  23. Willow

  24. Willow

  25. Willow

  26. Willow

  27. Jerrett

  28. Malcolm

  29. Willow

  30. Willow

  What’s Next From Sadie Moss

  About the Author

  1

  Willow

  The castle corridors were quiet and empty.

  Moonlight shone through a hole in the wall that shouldn’t be there, casting a pale white light on the darkened bloodstains that still adorned the gray stone.

  Jesus. This place was fucking destroyed.

  I shivered, staring closer at the ragged hole. Had a vampire been thrown through the wall by a shade? Or had the body that made this hole belonged to one of the undead monsters who’d snuck into the castle to attack us?

  I hoped like hell it was the latter.

  Vampires were powerful creatures. We were granted superhuman strength, speed, and the ability to hide within shadows by the magic that transformed us. But the shades were more than a match for us—which made sense, given our recent discovery that they were the resurrected corpses of long-dead fae. They still possessed fae magic and had used that magic to their advantage in the recent fight.

  If they hadn’t found the object they were searching for in Carrick’s artifact room and fled with their prize, our losses would have been even greater. As it was, over a dozen vampires had been killed trying to defend the castle.

  And worse, the shades had gotten away with the small stone statue they’d been after.

  No thanks to Carrick, that coward.

  Anger bubbled up inside me, churning like acid in my stomach. This familiar rage had been my near-constant companion for the past two days, ever since I woke up in my bedroom in the aftermath of the fight.

  I had tried to warn Carrick. I’d tried to prevent this catastrophe.

  But the king hadn’t listened. He’d been too busy chasing me around his throne room like a lecherous old man. Except instead of a pinch on the ass, he’d been after my fae blood. And when the shades—glamoured to look like his guards—had dropped their disguises and attacked, Carrick had fled through a secret door at the back of the throne room, hiding out until the coast was clear rather than leading his people in the fight.

  Even without the leadership of their king, the residents of the Penumbra had fought hard. Sol, Jerrett, Malcolm, and I had fought too, racing up to the artifact room where we’d tried to keep the shades from claiming their prize.

  Malcolm…

  My heart seemed to skip a beat at the thought of his name, the rhythm becoming painful and uneven.

  I rubbed my chest, as if I could soothe away the ache there, and forced my feet to keep moving past the destruction in the hallways.

  Cleanup was already underway, and as I rounded a corner, several vampires looked up from where they were gathering piles of rubble for disposal. They watched me as I passed, interest and a spark of hunger flashing in their eyes. But none of them leered at me in the way I’d been growing accustomed to, and when I caught the gaze of the female vampire who’d fought with us in the great hall, I thought I saw something like respect glinting in her blue eyes.

  None of them spoke to me, and I didn’t say a word either, just giving them a nod as I walked by.

  Something had changed since the fight. Before the shade attack, I’d felt like a walking piece of meat every time I left the sanctuary of my bedroom in the guest wing. Vampires—both men and women—would openly stare at me, running their tongues over their fangs as if they could already taste the sweet tang of my blood. Carrick had forbidden anyone from drinking from me, and that’d been the only thing that kept me somewhat safe.

  But now, I got the sense there was something else holding the vampires back. A sort of grudging respect, maybe. Although Carrick had emerged from hiding and tried to claim victory once the shades left, his people didn’t buy it. Unlike the gutless king, the brothers had fought alongside them as they defended the castle, and it seemed to have convinced them I was truly one of them.

  Whether that newfound respect would last once the shock of the shade attack wore off, I didn’t know. But truthfully, I didn’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out.

  Impatience burned in my veins, and I picked up my pace as I descended the wide stone stairs to the main level. Carrick had been avoiding us for the past two nights, claiming to be too busy with restoring the castle and dealing with the dead and injured. Which would’ve been a legitimate excuse, if I actually believed he was overseeing any of that. I hadn’t once seen him out in the castle helping with cleanup or repairs.

  A massive funeral pyre had been built for the dead, and they’d all been laid to rest last night. King Carrick had attended that ceremony only briefly before slipping away into the night.

  Coward.

  Jerrett and Sol had finally pinned him down and demanded an audience with him. I’d been in my room when a human servant delivered the message that I was to join them in the throne room. It was a testament to how much things had changed in the past few days that instead of being escorted through the palace by several guards, I was now allowed to walk the halls on my own.

  I much preferred it this way, although I missed having my three protective men walking with me.

  Malcolm.

  My heart clenched again, and I grimaced. It happened every time I thought of him, which happened so often that I’d gotten used to a constant burning ache in my chest.

  He hadn’t come back.

  I had fuzzy memories of the end of the fight, but I remembered some things very clearly. I remembered in awful clarity the sound Malcolm made when he was stabbed through the heart by a shade. I remembered the light in his eyes dimming, and the small, beautiful smile on his face as he looked up at me. I remembered forcing him to drink my blood so he could heal.

  But then things got a little cloudy.

  There’d been a feeling of ecstasy, pleasure so overwhelming I almost couldn’t bear it. And then pain. Pain so acute I couldn’t bear it.

  I remembered looking up into Malcolm’s face, seeing the bloodlust overtake him. And I remembered feeling peace—accepting my death knowing that he, at least, would live.

  The next
thing I knew, I’d woken up in my bedroom, still alive and surrounded by Jerrett and Sol.

  According to his brothers, Malcolm had left right after the two of them finally broke through the collapsed doorway into the artifact room. He’d gone out the window, disappearing into the forest surrounding the castle.

  And he hadn’t come back.

  My emotions swung like a pendulum between grief and anger, confusion and guilt. I didn’t understand why he just left, and every minute that passed without him here felt wrong, unnatural.

  Somehow, whether through the bond of blood we shared or the experiences we’d all been through together, the brothers and I had become a unit. A family. And functioning without Malcolm here felt like trying to function with a limb missing.

  I gritted my teeth, trying to rein in my spiraling thoughts as I approached the throne room. The two guards outside nodded curtly and pulled the wide double doors open, granting me entrance.

  This room was a mess too. Several of Carrick’s guards had battled shades in here, and although there had only been a few casualties in that fight, the room itself had taken a beating. Several walls had large dents in them, and splintered wood littered the space. Carrick’s large throne was one of the only intact pieces of furniture left, and he sat in it now—slumped in it, really, like a kid throwing a temper tantrum.

  Jerrett and Sol, who stood before the dais, turned as I entered. Sol’s sightless green eyes with the mesmerizing white irises brightened with happiness, and I felt an answering lightness in my own soul. Jerrett pushed a lock of dark hair out of his eyes, his pierced lip quirking in a smile.

  Carrick, on the other hand, sank lower in his chair, scowling at me. If he hunched down any farther, he’d slide right off his seat.

  “Miss Tate.” He bit my name out, the greeting much more formal and stiff than how he normally addressed me. “Thank you for joining us.”

  “Of course.” I joined Jerrett and Sol, standing between the two brothers. Sol gave my hand a quick squeeze.

  “Go ahead, Carrick.” Jerrett shot the king a look that was half-smirk, half-glare. “Tell her what you just told us.”

  The king’s jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared. Finally, he spoke, his voice halting. “As I promised you, Miss Tate, I am a man of my word. I told you your trials would be considered complete after only two challenges, and I will stand by that. You may join the ranks of my people as an approved vampire.”

  “And?” Sol’s voice was soft, but a threat lingered under the surface.

  Carrick bared his teeth in annoyance. “And in light of your attempt to warn me about the shade attack, I will forgive our bargain and release you from your promise to let me feed from you when you completed your trials.”

  I blinked. What?

  That seemed way too easy. King Carrick might pride himself on being a man of his word, but he most definitely wasn’t a man of honor.

  I knew better than to speak my thoughts aloud though. I wasn’t sure what Jerrett and Sol had said to the king to make him agree to this, but all it would take was one wrong word from me to snap him back into a frenzy of bloodlust.

  Keeping my body as still as possible, as if moving too fast would stir my scent through the air and drive the king mad, I nodded slowly.

  “Thank you, Carrick.”

  Jerrett let out a grunt beside me, obviously not happy to hear me thanking the king for anything. I wasn’t a fan of it either, and Carrick most definitely didn’t deserve it, but if it got me out of here alive, I could feign gratitude.

  Carrick’s gaze cut to Jerrett at the sound, a spark of anger lighting in his eyes. But Sol spoke up quickly, before either of the men could leap for the other’s throat.

  “Now that that’s settled,” he said smoothly. “We should move on to more important matters. Willow, can you describe for Carrick the object the shades stole from the artifact room?”

  “Yeah.” I’d only gotten a brief glimpse of the thing, but I’d thought about it so often since that night that I’d memorized its appearance. “It was a small statue, maybe ten inches tall, made of stone. Roughly carved into the shape of a woman. She was kneeling, and I think she was pregnant. And she had a pig’s head instead of a human one.”

  Carrick had been glaring balefully at the three of us, but as I spoke, his brows furrowed with concern.

  “The Birth of Power,” he murmured.

  “The what?”

  “The Birth of Power.” Carrick repeated the words as if speaking to an idiot, and I suppressed the urge to snap at him.

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  He scoffed. “Of course you wouldn’t. It’s an ancient artifact, imbued with powerful fae magic. The Birth of Power is part of a set of five objects called the Stones of Power that, when used in concert, can amplify the effects of a spell to several thousand times its original power.”

  My jaw dropped. “A spell? Any spell?”

  Magic was still a little hard for me to wrap my head around, but it was getting easier now that I’d done some of it myself. But my ability to use Sight, phase into an ephemeral state, and create illusions still seemed very different than casting spells. I couldn’t stop picturing Harry Potter waving a wand and shouting an incantation every time I thought of magic like that.

  Carrick glowered at me. Now that he’d vowed not to feed from me, he seemed anxious to get me out of his sight.

  “Yes, any spell.” He licked one of his incisors. “Although, to my knowledge, the set has never been used. Soon after they were created, the five objects were scattered, each hidden in a secret location.”

  My heart dropped. “And do you know where the other four are?”

  Carrick hauled himself upright, stiffening his spine as he glared imperiously down at me. “My dear, do you truly think if I knew where all five were hidden, I would have only one in my collection?”

  No. If you had gotten your hands on all five, I’m positive you would’ve used them. And I don’t even want to think of what kind of horror you would’ve unleashed on the world.

  Carrick seemed to guess my thoughts. He leaned forward, dark gaze boring into me. “As you can imagine, whoever gets their hands on all five statues would wield immense power.”

  “And now the weird sisters have at least one,” I shot back, unable to keep the accusatory tone out of my voice. It wasn’t totally fair to blame Carrick for the fact that the shades had stolen the Birth of Power from his artifact room. Even if he had heeded my warning, we may have been too late to stop them.

  But we’d never know now.

  If Carrick had fought with us, maybe we could’ve stopped the attack. Maybe Malcolm wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

  Maybe he would still be here.

  The king sank back into his chair again, his indolent expression returning. “So what? They’ll never find the others. I spent years searching for them, sent out the most skilled hunters in my vampire guard, and they returned empty handed. Without the other four, the statue is useless. Let them have it.”

  “Let them have it?”

  My voice was a screech that bounced off the stone walls, and Sol gripped my arm warningly.

  “Yes, Miss Tate,” Carrick growled. “In case you haven’t noticed, I have more pressing matters to attend to here. Many of my best soldiers died in the attack. Citizens of the Penumbra are wary and full of unrest. I need to deal with my own people before I turn my attention to matters that don’t affect me.”

  “Don’t affect you?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice at a reasonable volume. “How can you say this doesn’t affect you? The sisters sent their shades to attack the Penumbra—”

  “I remember.” His deep voice cut me off. “But now that they have what they want, they have no reason to return. We will fortify the defenses of the Penumbra, and offer safety to vampires from any North American clan here. We will be a haven.”

  For a moment, I just stared at him, stunned at his shortsightedness. “That’s it? You’ll be a haven? Ca
n all the vampires in North America actually stay here? Is there room?”

  Carrick’s expression hardened, and he shifted uncomfortably. “Well, not as such. But surely not all vampires will even want to—”

  “And what about other races? What about goblins and werewolves and… and whatever else is out there? What about your precious food supply—humans?”

  “They will fend for themselves, Miss Tate.” Carrick shifted again, his nostrils flaring. “They are not my concern. It is not my job to look after them.”

  The anger simmering in my stomach threatened to boil over, and I took a deep breath. Arguing with the king might get me killed, but it wouldn’t change his mind. How someone so selfish and small-minded could be the father of a man as brave and honorable as Malcolm was beyond me.

  But I no longer had time for this petty, cowardly king.

  “Fine.” I turned away from Carrick, shifting my gaze to Jerrett and Sol. “Then we’ll do it.”

  2

  Sol

  The king snorted at Willow’s declaration. “What? You three?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “We need to find and destroy the other four objects before the sisters get their hands on them. We can’t let them cast a spell of that power.”

  Her heartbeat was strong and steady beside me as she addressed the king. The muscles of her arm under my fingertips were relaxed.

  A swell of pride rose in my chest. I’d known Willow was strong since the first moment we encountered her lying broken and bloody on the sidewalk after the shade nearly took her life. She had survived the attack, and even as life drained from her body, her spirit fought. In the weeks since, this beautiful creature had blossomed into a powerful, confident warrior.