by Sofia Daniel
The march through the hallways and up the grand staircase to the headmaster’s office seemed interminable. A lump formed in my throat, and I fought back tears. This was all Raphael’s fault. Both of ours, really. I hadn’t deserved to be torn apart by a werewolf, just as Gates hadn’t deserved to be transformed. The isolation had twisted me, and the werewolf attack had pushed me to the edge of reason.
Professor Proust settled behind his desk and dialed a number. I stood at the door with a vampire guard at my back. Dante leaned against the headmaster’s desk, pressing both hands on its mahogany surface. The muscles in his back and triceps bunched, revealing his strong physique. I glanced away. After what I did, I shouldn’t be admiring any of the Stryx Brothers.
The headmaster hung up and turned to me with grave eyes. “Mr. Striga didn’t ingest enough of your blood to self-combust, but his digestive tract is severely damaged and will remain so until we find an antidote or a treatment.”
Silence hung in the air like the blade of a guillotine. Was there an antidote to the sun’s magic? I doubted it. The more I thought about things, the more I doubted that the onion woman had told me the truth about knockers carrying sunstone. Professor Proust didn’t seem to have a clue that the substance even existed. He genuinely seemed baffled about what I had done and unsure how to fix things.
He leaned forward. “Tell me, Miss Stephens. Is there something about your physiology that makes you a threat to vampires?”
My throat convulsed. “I didn’t even know vampires existed until you brought me here.”
He glanced at Dante. “You’re the eldest of Lord Stryx’s representatives. What do you want to do with Miss Stephens?”
“Blood servitude is the usual penalty for such a heinous and unprovoked attack,” he said.
I reared back with a noisy gasp. “Isn’t anyone going to comment on Raphael throwing me to a werewolf?” The muscles of my forearms tensed as I clutched the edge of my seat. “Surely, it’s against the rules to kill or transform one of us?”
Professor Proust paused and scratched his cheek with a thin finger. He tilted his head from side to side as though weighing up Raphael’s rule-breaking with my own. I peered at Dante through the corner of my eye, only to find him glaring down at me as though I was already his to plunder… painfully. Snatching my gaze away, I turned back to the headmaster, who nodded, seeming to have made up his mind.
“Do you permit me to see the memory of that incident?” he asked.
I chewed my lip. If he could see where I’d hidden the sunstone, I’d lose my only means of protection against the vampires.
“You don’t have to worry about me prying into other areas of your mind,” he said. “Consent is critical our kind, and we can only physically venture where you have offered an invitation.”
I closed my eyes and nodded. Perhaps that myth about vampires not being able to enter a person’s home unless invited was true, after all. “Alright.” I opened my eyes. “I’ll let Professor Proust view my memories starting from breakfast to when I escaped the attack.”
Gesturing for me to stand, he rose from his seat and walked out from behind his desk. Then he reached for my head, seemed to think better about it, and snatched his hands away. “Is the skin around your temples toxic?”
I shook my head. Let them believe I was poisonous. It might stop vampires from trying to grab me. “I’m safe to touch for a short time.”
The professor placed his fingertips on my temple in a parody of a Vulcan mind-meld. His pupils opened so wide, only a tiny ring of hazel surrounded them. I stared into his eyes, and the whole world melted away.
The morning scenes played out in my mind’s eye. No matter how much I wanted to look away, I couldn’t. Every moment from breakfast to Nero’s rescue was laid bare.
Just as Nero whirled on me in the vision, his face livid, Professor Proust’s voice filled my mind. “That wasn’t Mr. Striga.”
I blinked, and the office came back to focus. “What?”
He drew back and walked around his desk. “Another vampire mesmerized you into believing it was him. Raphael Striga is over six feet tall. While you were both walking through the hallways together and attracting a lot of attention, why didn’t anyone’s head tilt upward?”
I chewed my bottom lip. Now that he pointed it out, it was obvious.
“Whoever lured you into that trap was your height plus or minus a few inches. Given that you are only five feet five, I would surmise that your assailant was female, and above the age of sixteen since she performed such as successful and thorough mesmerism.”
My stomach dropped, and my knees gave way. One of the guards shoved me into a wooden, high-backed chair. A shocked breath huffed out of my lungs.
What the fuck had I done to poor Raphael?
Chapter 13
Despair washed through my insides, and I lowered my head in my hands. What had I done to Raphael? If my sunstone-charged palm had burned Dante’s face, what would it do to Raphael’s insides?
“Miss Stephens?” asked Professor Proust.
I gazed up into the older vampire’s eyes. “Yes, sir?”
“Although you were tricked into accompanying who you thought was Mr. Striga into a trap, the way you dealt with the incident was inexcusable.”
My shoulders drooped. He was right. “Yes, sir.”
“We don’t take attempted murder lightly.”
A ball of dread weighed down my stomach. Attempted murder. It sounded so heinous, yet it was exactly what I had done to Raphael. What would he be going through right now? “I…” My voice cracked. “How can I make amends?”
Dante punched his fist into his palm. “Hand her over. According to our laws, she belongs to us.”
Professor Proust rested his clasped hands on his desk. “Thank you, Mr. Striga. I will take that under advisement. May I have a moment alone with Miss Stephens?”
Dante leaned over me and whispered into my ear, “This isn’t over.”
A shiver skittered down my spine at the menace in his words, giving me the impression that he might throw me to the werewolves if he didn’t get what he considered justice.
As soon as the door clicked shut, the professor waved one of the knockers forward. “I’ll send a message to Lord Stryx, explaining what has happened. It’s customary to leave matters in the hands of the eldest of his sons in my academy, but given that you are responsible for the condition of Dante’s face, I fear that he may not treat you with the fairness befitting the misunderstanding.”
“What do you suggest?” I shifted in my seat.
“It wouldn’t hurt to apologize to Raphael… and to Dante.” He grimaced. “Or to convince Nero to handle retribution, as he seems better disposed to you. I expect they’re all in the infirmary right now.”
I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. Nero was even more frightening than the other two because I couldn’t work out what he thought of me. My shoulders slumped. This was so fucked up, I couldn’t even decipher where I’d gone wrong.
Pulling myself to my feet, I asked, “Where’s the infirmary?”
The headmaster beckoned a red-haired knocker forward. He had the same peaches and cream complexion as Raphael, but he didn’t have the ethereal beauty of a vampire. “Please show Miss Stephens to Dr. Grannus’ office.”
The knocker bowed and exited the room.
“Good luck,” said the headmaster.
I gulped. It would take more than luck to get me out of this predicament, but I was no coward. I would explain myself to Dante, and if the guard left me alone tonight, I would see what I could do about escaping.
The infirmary was located in another wing of the castle. It was a vast, ultra-modern room that reminded me of a hospital Emergency Room. The bed in the far right corner was curtained off, and a doctor in a white coat emerged from behind the partition, holding a stethoscope. He wore his long, mahogany hair in a ponytail, looked about twenty-eight, with dark brows, angular features and a pallid complexion that
made me wonder if he ever fed.
He tilted his head to the side. “May I help you, Miss…?”
“St-Stephens,” I replied. “I’ve come to apologize to Raphael Striga.”
Dante stepped out from behind the curtain, his pale eyes as cold as glaciers. “Are you here to be tested for blood servitude?”
The doctor’s brows drew together. “Is this the young lady whose blood and saliva caused your brother’s injuries?”
“Yes, and she hasn’t answered my question.” Dante folded his arms across his chest.
“My name is Dr. Grannus, and I’d like to test you to see what makes you so toxic to vampires.”
I shrank into the wall. Right now, everyone thought I was a dangerous freak, but if I told the truth, something terrible might happen to the onion woman. The more I thought about her, the more I was convinced she was either a slayer or a frumosi like me, working behind the scenes to free the knockers from their servitude.
“Come, sit.” Dr. Grannus led me toward an examination table with leg stirrups.
My body temperature plummeted, and a panicked thud reverberated through my chest.
I pulled away. “I…” My tongue darted out to lick my dry lips, and my gaze locked onto Dante, who rolled up his sleeves. Every single muscle in my stomach tightened. What kind of tests did these vampires want to perform? “I… I came to say sorry.”
“If you wish to apologize to Mr. Striga, I have to make sure you’re not toxic.” The doctor walked over to what I was beginning to suspect was a gynecological examination table. “Was this the first time you’ve fed a vampire?”
“A-and the last.” I wrapped my arms around my chest.
“Not if you’re compatible for blood servitude,” snapped Dante.
I stepped back. “No one said I had to become your blood-whore.”
“Our blood-whore.” He stepped toward me.
“W-what?” I edged toward the door.
“I’ve decided.” Dante gestured at the examination table. “As soon as you’ve purged whatever’s in your system, you’ll move into a suitable cage in our suite.”
I shot Dr. Grannus a helpless look, but he only pulled on a pair of latex gloves and held out a syringe.
“Hold her steady,” he said to someone behind my back.
A huge knocker grabbed my arms, making my stomach drop. “But I didn’t consent—”
The needle plunged into my vein, and the doctor said, “Do criminals in your human world consent to their punishments?”
“No, but—”
“Then what makes you think we’ll listen to a word of what you have to say? You’ve already injured two sons of Lord Strix. One so heinously, he will not be able to absorb his feed for a significant amount of time.”
I clenched my teeth. The doctor wasn’t likely to find anything harmful in my veins. The sunstone was on my tongue, and I’d probably either swallowed it all or passed it onto Raphael.
Dr. Grannus collected a vial of my blood and handed it to a nurse for analysis. Nero glowered at me from Raphael’s curtain, and I kept my gaze to a spot on his shoulder. I still didn’t quite know how the unknown vampire had tricked me into believing they were Raphael. The impostor’s behavior had been a little off, but I had been too preoccupied with the threat hanging over Zarah to notice it.
After several moments, the nurse emerged from another room with a scroll. The doctor opened it and raised his brows. “It says here that your blood is perfectly safe for vampire consumption. Did you, by any chance, leave the academy and come across something that resembles a misshapen beetroot?
“No.” But I knew what to look out for in the event I wanted to hurt another vampire. “I haven’t so much as opened a window.”
“Off you go.” Dr. Grannus shooed me away. “I’ll send for you when Raphael has recovered enough to absorb nutrients.”
“Can I see Raph—”
“No,” Dante snapped.
The bite in his tone caused my heart to jolt, and I hurried out of the infirmary before Dante and the doctor decided to perform further tests.
The gong sounded. I dove behind a pillar alcove and waited for the students to finish traveling the hallways. After everyone had witnessed my maiming of Raphael, the petty pranks would no longer satisfy their desire for retribution. The vampires would want to rip me apart with their fangs. Using the breathing exercises Mom taught me, I slowed my heart rate to a steady, unnoticeable beat. So much had happened in the space of one night, I was ready to curl up and sleep for the entire day.
When the hallways cleared, I hurried to the Frumosi Tower, taking the stairs two at a time. I reached my floor, and a relieved breath gusted out of my lungs. Perhaps for the next few nights, I would sleep in one of the storage cupboards in case someone wanted to play another deadly prank.
The door opened, and strong arms yanked me into the hallway. I sucked in a huge breath to scream, but a large hand clamped around my mouth.
“Quiet,” whispered my assailant. “You’re in the biggest danger of your life.”
Nero pinned me against the wall by the wrists. His blue-black dreadlocks hung messily around his face, accentuating his arched eyebrows and sharp cheekbones. In the dim light of my hallway, his bronze skin was the color of burnt sienna, warm and rich and tantalizing. I gave myself a mental slap. Why was I admiring the beauty of someone who probably wanted to hurt me for maiming his brothers?
“If it wasn’t for my brothers’ plans for you, I’d leave you to your fate,” he murmured in my ear.
I struggled in Nero’s grip. There was no way I’d become their blood-whore. “Let go of me!”
“Will you make me, like you did to Dante?” he growled. Then he pressed his chest into mine and brushed his hardness against my belly. “If I kissed you, would you burn me, too?”
I shook my head. “N-Nero… I don’t want any more trouble between us.”
“Someone out there has already made one attempt on your life.”
“Do you know who?”
He leveled me with a calculating stare. “What would you give me if I told you?”
“Wh-what do you want?”
“A kiss.”
“Why?” I whispered.
“I saw what you did to my brothers. You’re the deadliest girl I’ve encountered. Vampire or human. Turn off whatever makes you so toxic and kiss me. Then I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”
“It’s Micalla, isn’t it?”
His erection ground against my core, making me draw in a sharp breath between my teeth. “You already know my price.”
The pulse between my legs pounded in time with my racing heart, and something deep within my core twitched. I needed to know the identity of the person who tricked me into the den of a werewolf in case they tried again. “A-alright.”
I stood on tiptoes and pressed my lips onto Nero’s in a chaste kiss, but a growl reverberated in his chest that made me gasp. He slipped his tongue through my lips and delved into my mouth. Something about this situation was twisted. I’d hurt two of his brothers, yet he was kissing me as if I was a lifeline.
I broke away, panting hard. His nostrils flared, and his gaze flickered down toward my core. A flush heated my cheeks. He could smell my arousal.
“W-who tricked me?” I asked.
“You argued with Kush at breakfast, didn’t you?”
I nodded. Pigtails had been furious over whatever I had said to Zarah, but not enough to want to feed someone to a werewolf.
“Some of the people I asked noticed you were both glaring into each other’s eyes. That’s when you were mesmerized.”
“But I also spoke to Juno a moment later.”
Still pinning me to the wall, he sucked on my neck. “It’s more complicated than that.” His tongue flickered down my jugular vein, sending shivers of fright and arousal down my spine. “People I questioned said they saw Kush walking down the hall with you.”
“Why would she do it?”
“U
nder Micalla’s orders, maybe,” he replied. “For her own benefit. She’s become fond of your little friend and probably doesn’t need you pouring your toxic thoughts into her ear.”
“Me?” I tried to pull away from his distracting ministrations.
“I heard her question why they had to draw so much blood. A good whore should thank her mistresses for the pleasure of being bitten.”
My chest tightened at the thought of Zarah challenging the Coven, and I rested my head on his broad shoulder. In a tiny voice, I asked, “Can you help me to free her?”
“Zarah Peridot consented to a blood relationship with those girls.”
“But—”
“But nothing.” He ground against me. “I’m here to protect you, not her.”
“Why?” I raised my head.
“Dante already made it clear. You belong to us.” I was about to protest, to ask why, when he slammed his lips onto mine. It was different from kissing Raphael. Nero was aggressive, domineering, and took immediate control.
For a moment, my body stilled under his attack, and then I kissed back with equal ferocity. Our tongues writhed against each other, twisting, grappling, and struggling for control.
One of his fangs nicked the inside of my mouth, and he drew back, his pupils wide. “After that little display at lunchtime, how many vampires do you think are plotting their revenge? If you don’t come under my protection, they’ll only find deadlier ways to hurt you.”
I shook my head. Through panting breaths, I said, “I’d rather be eaten by a werewolf than die the slow death of being used by the three of you for my blood.”
He growled, making my heart jump into my throat. I clenched my teeth and writhed against his hard length. If the Stryx Brothers wanted me, it would have to be on my terms. Nero released my wrists, and wrapped my arms around his muscular back, bringing us closer together.