Julian grinned and leaned forward to slide his palms across the smooth table. He took the package Richard pushed in his direction with a bubbling sense of excitement. “The mongrel needs to die.”
“No,” Richard barked. “I’ve got my uses for him. You’ve got four weeks to complete your task.”
I pulled back from the conversation and the acrid taste on the back of my tongue faded. My sire had no idea who I was or what I was capable of. I yanked the knife from my chest. As I watched, my skin knitted together, faster than ever. I stroked a bloody finger down Julian’s cheek, under his jaw to lift his face to mine.
Beads of sweat peppered his forehead. He fought to push free from my hold and the strain showed. Excitement soared through me.
“What have you done, lover?” I cooed.
He opened his mouth to speak, but I was rooted inside his head and I stopped the words before they even formed.
“Save it,” I hissed.
I kicked his knee, shattering the cap. His leg gave out from beneath him and he collapsed to the ground with a groan. I trapped his pain and agony inside, forcing him to feel every facet of hurt. When I was finished with him, he would know my wrath.
Julian struggled, tried to push me from his mind, but he was weak and ruled by lovesick emotions. He had no idea what he’d done, who he’d released. The bones in his wrist I’d broken knitted together and Julian pushed off the floor with his hands in an attempt to stand, but his knee was still damaged. For his efforts, spittle dripped from his parted lips and I buried my foot in his gut, sending him sprawling.
His mind was a chaos of rioting emotions, sensations, thoughts and memories. Through it one thing was clear, something he focused on and couldn’t seem to push away. He heard an echo, a flurry of soft beats that agonized him more than the physical pain he suffered.
Why?
I looked down at myself, to the source of the noise and tried to pinpoint it. Dried blood crawled down my stomach… Realization swept through me. Vampire Queen and the Demon Son. I’d procreated, ensuring my race’s survival by siring the prophesied child that would bring about total destruction. A slow, satisfied smile lifted my lips. I had the perfect, malleable tool to ultimate power.
The doors to the study burst open and I looked up as the Fenrirs’ packmaster rushed in, no doubt drawn by my screams. Incompetent ass. I’d have been dead long ago if that was what Julian had intended.
He was two steps into the room when I lashed out with my power, the gesture as easy, as natural as lifting my hand. The doors behind him slammed closed and I took hold of the wolf inside him with little more than a thought. I pictured wrapping my fingers around the animal’s neck, how the silken fur would feel beneath my palm. Ever so slowly, I tightened my grip and took satisfaction in his widening eyes.
Eiven, trapped under my spell, spluttered for breath. He grabbed his throat, clawed at his skin as if searching for the reason he couldn’t breathe.
“That’s right, wolf. You answer to me. Are we understood?”
His lids fluttered.
“Look at me!” I demanded.
Behind me, still struggling to get up off the ground, Julian made an inarticulate noise that sounded a lot like, “Help me.”
Pussy.
I dropped Eiven to his knees, bending him to my will. I ripped through his memories, pushing aside the writhing images of tangled bodies, cries of passion and pure ecstasy of the bite. Long before Lizbeth had come of age, Eiven had pledged his allegiance to the vampires in exchange for power.
Vampire blood had both strengthened and weakened him. Seemed Eiven had a bit of an addiction, not that I cared. Our minds clashed and he struggled against my hold, a fight for dominance I knew I’d win. There was no question. To the wolf’s credit, I felt not an ounce of fear—something we’d have to fix.
Maybe I’d keep him.
His lips tinged blue, yet he stopped struggling for breath. No. My wolf looked on and accepted his punishment like a man. Only after Eiven bowed his head and stopped fighting did I release him. He gasped for air, choosing to stay silent instead of asking the questions swirling inside his head. Smart boy.
I turned to where my sire writhed on the ground and looked at him with disgust. “Get on your knees.” As I spoke, I removed the knife strapped to my thigh, tossed it to the ground and slid the Blade of Souls in the sheath.
Julian jerked, fighting the compulsion and losing. On hands and knees, he looked up at me with pure venom. I found his anger highly amusing. I was master now, not him, and he knew it. Perspiration glistened on his brow. Pain rippled out from his shattered kneecap—an injury I wouldn’t let heal.
I licked my lips, enjoying his misery, deciding to inflict more simply because I could. “Crawl.”
I strode past Eiven and exited the room, Julian creeping behind me like a good pet.
The moment I reentered the ballroom, vampires milling around stopped and stared. I plucked a crystal flute from a tray and brought the rim to my lips. The rich scent of blood filled me and I tipped the glass back. Thick, red liquid dripped down the back of my throat. I swallowed and picked apart the facets.
Musky. Male. Demon. Just below the surface there was an edge, a bite to the taste that spoke of pain and fear. Delicious. I licked my lips, savoring the last traces.
I strode forward, flute dangling from my fingers, my wolf at my back and my sire crawling behind us. I filled the room with my power and touched each one of my creatures, anchoring them to me in the old ways. With a single thought, I sent them to their knees, forcing down those who would oppose me.
I stopped in the center of the crowd and spun in a pleased circle, admiring my minions kneeling before me. Mine.
“There’s been a change of plans,” I announced, my voice carrying throughout the room.
I recalled my energy. One by one, the vampires who could now move again gazed up at me. Their eyes gleamed like sapphires, an eagerness for domination that filled me with pleasure.
“Julian—your so-called ‘king’—was under the assumption that I was weak, a sniveling,” I glanced to where Eiven stood beside me, watching with interest, “child.”
He met my gaze head-on without flinching, something that pleased me. I glanced at the pulsing vein in his neck, his racing pulse music to my ears. Eiven’s eyes darkened and he licked his lips, his hunger a seductive pull.
I looked away and called out, “Let me clear a few things up for you.”
I pointed a finger at Julian and sent him sailing through the air on a gust of undiluted energy. Vampires moved out of the way, clearing a path so nothing obstructed my view. I pinned Julian to the wall, twisting my hand to the right. The action forced his arms out and his legs apart. He writhed against his imaginary restraints.
The air pulsed seconds before Julian’s armed guards popped into the room. A growl ripped from my throat and I swept my hand out, snapping their necks one by one. A dozen bodies dropped to the floor, the thuds of their corpses second to the clanking of their fallen weapons.
“I am your queen,” I snarled through the burst of rage that filled me.
I lashed out at Julian, forcing my wrath out the tips of my fingers. The smooth, pale skin on his cheeks split apart as if I’d sliced his flesh with razors. Blood welled, filling the room with the delicious aroma.
I channeled my bloodlust and pushed it out, letting my vampires feel my thirst as if it were their own. Hunger shone in their eyes and filled me with a need for violence. I lashed out again, ripping the fabric from Julian’s body until he was naked and bound at my mercy.
I strode forward, my every step graceful and smooth. As I went, I brought the champagne flute in my hand down, smashing it on the first hard object I found—a vampire’s head. Glass shattered, tinkling to the floor. I stopped in front of Julian and pressed the pointed shard of the broken stem at the corner of his eye.
“You may speak,” I said softly and trailed the tip down his cheek, creating a new river of blood.
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“You cannot kill me,” he said, a surety in his voice that pricked me the absolute wrong way.
I leaned forward and drew my tongue up the gash on the side of his face. His blood was rich and potent and I moaned at the decadent pleasure of it.
“You’re right,” I purred. I drew away from his face, adjusted my grip on the broken flute and shoved the jagged stem into his eye. Fluid and blood mixed to stream down his cheek. Through his screams of agony, I whispered, “I can’t kill you, Sire, but, I can play with you a bit.
“Knife,” I demanded silently and held out my palm.
Within seconds, the weight of the weapon filled my grip and I wrapped my fingers around the hilt. Tit for tat. I plunged the knife into Julian’s chest with a wet thwack that had blood splattering my face. Julian screamed. His hoarse, pained cry of weakness turned me on.
I pulled out the knife and thrust it into his stomach. In and out, each stab proof I was in control. He’d penetrated me and I reveled in returning the favor. When his flesh was nothing but ground-up meat, the last, lingering thread tying us together forced me to stop.
Such a pity.
My sire’s blood coated my arms, chest and stomach, stained my dress. I dropped the knife to the ground with a clang and took a step back to admire my work. Bone showed through gaping flesh. Blood dripped to the ground, adding to the ever-growing puddle. My senses homed in on the individual drops and I tracked them as they fell. Splish. Splosh.
I stared at Julian’s pale, lifeless body as I spoke, hoping there was some part of him that was still conscious. “Anyone else who dares defy me will feel my wrath. I am your mistress. Your queen. You will do what I tell you to do, no exceptions. There are rules in place, ones that Vlad—my flesh and blood—dictated. We will survive. We will dominate. Lizbeth might have been a sadist, but she was pathetic. Me,” I turned and smiled, making eye contact with each vampire, “I’m a trained killer and I know exactly where to strike first. Those who oppose me will die. Those who please me will flourish.”
I walked over to where Eiven stood staring at me with a naked kind of hunger that my body responded to. I crossed the distance between us and licked Julian’s blood from my lips.
A mewling whimper sounded from a vampire to my right and I found him staring at Julian. I stroked a hand through his hair and turned his face to mine. His eyes were angled up at the corners, hinting at an Asian ancestry.
“Would you like to feed?” I asked.
He trembled beneath my touch, every fiber of his being straining to get closer to me, but he knew better than to reach out.
“Yes, your majesty.”
I glanced at Julian’s hanging body, then at the crowd. Their need pulsed through me stronger than the tiny beating heart in my body.
“Then feed.” I motioned to my sire. “Take Julian’s blood.”
A gasp sounded, echoing throughout the room. “Wha—?”
Taking another’s blood without their express consent, especially from one more powerful than you, was a grave insult.
“All of you,” I called out. “Show my sire what happens when you fuck with the queen. Feed, but do not kill him.”
The masses descended on Julian like a pack of feral dogs and I laughed. They were all cattle. Some I’d keep, others I’d slaughter. Under Julian’s command, the vampires had weakened—another reason my sire deserved his punishment.
I met Eiven’s gaze and crooked a finger at him. The packmaster stepped forward and slid his hand around my waist, the heat of his palm melting through me. He rubbed the steel length of his cock against my hip, drawing more amusement than arousal. Did he think I was easy? That I’d start panting like a bitch in heat?
“And you, wolf—” I grabbed a handful of his hair, forcing his head back. He moaned low in his throat and I drew my nose across his neck, scenting his blood. My fangs pulsed and I teased his flesh with the tips. “Do you oppose me?”
He slid his hand to my ass and brought me tight against his body. The muscles in his arms, chest and stomach flexed—each set straining under his disciplined control not to throw me on the ground and fuck me.
His voice was low and sexy. “I’m at your disposal, my queen.”
Too bad I only wanted one thing from him. I struck hard and fast, sinking my fangs into his throat. Hot, rich blood spilled into my mouth. I drank deep, my throat convulsing at the rush of liquid. He jerked against me and groaned as if my bite stroked his cock. Pleasure gave his blood an undercurrent of flavor, something I imagined ambrosia might taste like.
A line of heat moved down my spine and drew me from my bloodlust. I retracted my fangs and swept my tongue across the punctures before I turned to see who’d entered the room.
Micah.
I ran my gaze over him, welcoming the carnal need sweeping through me. My pussy pulsed, slickening with desire. My breasts ached and my swollen nipples tingled. We were connected, the demon and I. He stood in the doorway, fists clenched at his sides, his mouth a tight line of displeasure I found amusing.
I reached out with my power and encountered a steel wall around his mind. I narrowed my eyes and tried again to no avail. I couldn’t control him, not like the others. How very interesting…
A small smile curled my mouth. I had always enjoyed a challenge.
Chapter Sixteen
Adrenaline, shock and rage combined, piling a huge, steaming load of shit on the anguish shredding my insides. I should have felt relieved to discover Ella wasn’t dead. Instinct warred with self-preservation. Part of me wanted to cross the room and pull her into my arms, to prove that she was flesh and bone—that she was real. The other part, the one dominating my motor functions, waved a big fucking red flag in front of my face.
Eiven—the punk-ass wolf—trailed his hand up the center of Ella’s blood-slicked stomach, between the swells of her breasts, and cupped the front of her throat. Gaze locked with mine, he bent his head to hers and very deliberately dragged the tip of his tongue through a rivulet of blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. The demon in me raged. Flames licked from my palm, almost as fierce—as hot—as the betrayal unfurling inside me.
“What the fuck?” I growled, the edge in my voice sharp as a knife.
The creepy-as-hell smirk Ella flashed me curled into a full-blown smile. She threw her head back and laughed. The husky, feminine sound of her amusement echoed over the moans dominating the back of the room where a horde of writhing vampires fed from something—someone—pinned to the wall.
Each breath I drew was laden with the metallic scent of blood, the aroma so potent I tasted the salt and rust of it on the back of my tongue. With each second that passed, it became clear the creature standing in front of me wasn’t the woman I’d fallen in love with—the one I’d do anything to protect.
No, this version of her was…different.
Like locks tumbling into place, the answer slammed into me with a resounding click. I blamed shock for me not connecting the dots sooner. She no longer had a soul. I’d felt it being ripped from me, from her. The pulsing spark I held on to for dear life was merely an echo of her presence.
I closed my eyes and called up the image of the knife sticking from her chest, experiencing the pain all over again. Eli had been right about the Blade of Souls. Richard had found a way to get to her—to steal her from me.
An addictive power radiated from Ella, consuming everything around her as if she controlled the air itself. The demon reacted to the sight of her in a visceral way that had my lip curling up in a possessive snarl. The wolf’s death flashed before my eyes in a vision of severed arteries and broken bones.
He would pay for touching what was mine.
Ella’s laughter faded. She looked at me and traced her lower lip with a single finger before pressing the digit into her mouth to suck on it. Her cheeks hollowed. Heat filled her eyes, distracting me from the thin ring of scarlet surrounding her bright-blue irises. My cock pulsed despite the warning bells alerting me to the wrongness
of the situation.
Memories of Ella on her knees in front of me, the dark curtain of her hair falling over her shoulder, my cock sliding between her lips, surfaced. Lust addled my brain, blocking everything except a consuming need to fuck her in the Fenrir’s blood.
Something dark and cold pressed at the corners of my mind. The sensation squeezed and it took me a moment to realize Ella was trying to get in my head. Yeah, I didn’t think so. I broke her gaze and searched what I once imagined was an elegant room in an effort to figure out what the hell had happened, why my Ella wasn’t my Ella anymore.
Even though she was coated in blood, her dress nearly black with it, I didn’t see any obvious injury or any sign of Richard. Vampire ash and abandoned assault rifles covered one section of the floor. Broken glass glittered nearby, reflecting light from the overhead chandlers. Dark-red speckles of blood dotted a path I followed. Where was Julian?
The person affixed to the wall moaned, but I couldn’t see around the feasting bloodsuckers to tell who it was. The pained noises were too deep, too guttural to be female. A vampire with deep copper hair chose that moment to push the captive man’s face to the side, exposing a profile I knew.
I found Ella’s sire—what was left of him anyway.
My heart knocked against my chest in a fierce tempo and I struggled to keep my face void of emotion. Was that the end of a champagne flute shoved into his eye? Were those his intestines hanging from his stomach? Gashes deep enough to expose bone split open the skin on his face and dripped blood. Two female vampires trailed their tongues up the pink, fleshy slit in an oddly erotic gesture that reminded me of licking pussy. The women turned to each other and sealed their lips together, exchanging a lot more than spit. Disgust curled through my stomach and I looked away.
“Oh lover.” Ella’s voice was lower and sexier, the calculating tone making her sound nothing like my girl. “The look on your face is priceless.”
She shoved Eiven away from her and crossed the distance between us, her heels clicking over the floor. Even the way she walked was different. There was a confidence in her stride, a smoothness that hadn’t been there before. With each step she swayed her hips like a fucking supermodel walking down the catwalk.
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