Cuddled up on a massive, black wood and red velvet throne chair, wearing a fluffy white bathrobe, I lost myself in one of Cyrus’s favorite books. The horror genre didn’t really interest me, I’d experienced enough real horror to last me a lifetime, but reading kept me from staring at the clock, wondering when Cyrus would return.

Thinking about what he’d want from me when he did.

If he wanted to fuck me, I’d be fine. Sex didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t anymore. Finding the pleasure I could in the act was more than enough. I’d sold my body for his protection, and I didn’t regret it for a second.

Not that I’d had a choice. Fuck, I missed the days when I’d had that kind of freedom. When my body was my own and being touched and kissed was…special. When I’d been more than some kind of prize.

The door opened. I kept my eyes on the page, not seeing the words. If I didn’t draw attention to myself, Cyrus might leave me alone. Hopefully, he’d only come to change out of his latest blood-soaked outfit, which he did several times a night.

I didn’t ask where all that blood came from. I didn’t want to know.

He strode across the room, into the closet. Tossed a buddle of clothes at my feet. “Get dressed.”

A glance at the clothes made my brow furrow. Jeans and a plain white tank top. Neither gave me any clue what was going on, but he seemed agitated. “Why—?”

“Do as your told, Lydia.” His tone was hard, and he barely spared me a look as he changed into one of his fancier style suits, dark blue and gold embroidered frock coat, with tight pants and a frilly white shirt. Victorian or Georgian or some shit like that. I could never tell the difference, even though Daederich had tried to teach me a bit of history.

Knowing the age of the vampire you were going after could mean the difference between life and death. Not many dressed as elaborately as Cyrus, but quite a few of the older ones had some kind of tell. An old watch, a cane, the way they walked, what they wore around their neck.

Once Daederich had stopped me from going after a young woman who’d been killing hookers in LA. She dressed like every girl her age, tiny shorts, a snug little top. But she had an authentic rondel dagger Daederich figured was from the 15^th century. That bitch would have torn me in two with a flick of her delicate wrists.

He’d given Elah a call and let the hunters have her. She killed two of them before they put her down.

Not that there was much chance of me getting into that line of work again, but if I did, I’d have to pick up on those little details.

“It’s a mix of Victorian and Georgian.” Cyrus leaned against the bedpost, folding his arms over his chest as I quickly dressed. “Which means I’m old enough to fuck you up. And will if you don’t hurry.”

I dragged my hair into a ponytail, then slipped into a pair of plain black army boots. “Where are we going?”

“To the theater, of course.” He scowled and tugged at the ruffled sleeves of his shirt. “With no warning, because dramatic invites add to the excitement, naturally.”

The ‘theater’ could only mean one thing. I swallowed and shook my head. “You said you wouldn’t let her have me.”

“And I won’t.” He gestured impatiently at my clothes. “Why do you think I’ve made you as unappealing as possible?”

Yep, jeans and a tank top. That’ll keep me safe.

“Don’t push me, Lydia. I’m not in the mood.” He grabbed my hand, yanking me to his side. “With her upbringing, you’d think she’d have better manners, but instead she’s the same selfish, entitled little bitch she’s always been.”

“Why go if you’re this pissed?”

“Because my reputation will suffer if I don’t.” He let out a sharp laugh. “They’ve forgotten who I am. Tonight, I’ll remind them.”

One of Cyrus’s men drove us to the ‘theater’ in a town car, pulling up in front of an old mansion a few miles from the city. There were fancy cars parked everywhere, some even on the grass, but absolutely no one outside except for a guard by the front entrance.

He inclined his head to Cyrus as we started up the stairs. The massive doors swung open and two servants held them as we stepped inside. The entryway was immense, with gleaming marble floors and two curved staircases leading up to the second floor. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, lit with hundreds of candles. There didn’t seem to be any electricity here. Either that or the owner wasn’t afraid of the place catching on fire, because as we made our way to the ballroom, there was no other lighting.

The ballroom was crowded, mostly with older men, but there were several women in fancy gowns, seeming more part of the decoration than anything else. I moved closer to Cyrus as eyes turned my way, then stopped myself, inhaling roughly when he released my hand and shot me a knowing look. I might need Cyrus’s protection, but I couldn’t make that too obvious. Among these creatures, I could either be predator or prey. Being Cyrus’s ‘pet’ didn’t take me off the menu. If these elite fuckers thought I was valuable to him, they might make an offer to find out why. For the right price, Cyrus would hand me over, no hesitation.

“But it would be a very high price.” Cyrus chuckled, pulling a chair out for me at one of the round tables set up close to the stage, which was smaller than any I’d been forced to perform on, with thick black curtains hanging above and around it in a semi-circle. There were only a dozen tables, almost as though the entertainment wasn’t the focus of the evening.

Most of those in attendance would be standing, which was weird. It reminded me a bit of the masked ball I’d snuck into with Elah, posing as a guest. There had been drinking and dancing, but the highlight of the party had been the appetizers.

Children.

I’d never forget all those little faces, big eyes filled with tears or…lifeless. The hunters had freed all who’d survived after we’d massacred most of the guests, but had any of them recovered once they were returned to their families? I’m sure the hunters erased what horror they could from their minds, but there were scars that would never go away. A touch would bring back a flash of fear, but they wouldn’t know why. The only reminder would be the marks left on their bodies, which no one could explain.

The damage that had been done to them… I wish I could make those bastards suffer for it all over again. Maybe one day I’d meet them in hell and get my chance.

“No need to go so far, my sweet.” Cyrus motioned a servant over, taking two glasses of champagne from the tray he carried, handing me one before holding his own up in cheers. “I’m right here.”

I couldn’t respond, because the room had gone quiet, all eyes turning to the doors at the opposite side of the room from where we’d come in. The doors opened slowly, almost as though to prolong the anticipation, but there was nothing to be seen in the shadowy hall beyond. A soft murmur filled the room and every man leaned forward to see better. I couldn’t see anything from where we sat, but I sensed a change in the atmosphere as the first man caught sight of whatever they were waiting for.

There was a strange buzz in the air, eagerness and hunger and lust. I pressed my eyes shut, listening for the crying of children, visualizing the room for the closest way out if I had to fight to save at least a few of them. I would. I couldn’t sit here and watch them suffer. Putting Alrik at risk terrified me, but if I survived maybe I could get to him in time. Or at least find a way to warn Vince and Nicole.

My own freedom wasn’t worth putting him in danger, but if they’d collected little ones again for their sick desires, I’d have no choice. There was no one else here to help them, no one coming, no hope unless I found a way to give it to them.

I wasn’t much as a savior alone, not like I’d been with a dozen hunters by my side, but I’d damn well make these fuckers regret their menu for the night.

When I opened my eyes, Cyrus was watching me, a little smirk on his lips. He nodded toward the doors as figures in white robes entered the room in single file, heads down, hands covered in the long sleeves.

“They aren’t children, but they are young. Teenage girls, all runaways, found selling their bodies on the streets, who came to this place willingly. They’ve been kept here for months, fed and clothed, treated well as they were taught what would be expected of them.”

“And what’s that?” I clenched my jaw as the girls stopped, facing the crowd gathered in front of the elegant windows, their backs to the few sitting at the tables with us.

Cyrus lightly stroked the back of the hand I’d fisted on the table. “You know exactly what, pet. But don’t worry, they won’t be killed. They’re much too valuable. Rosali’s training is exceptional. These men have paid a high price for a taste of what they can do. They’ll pay more to keep them.”

This was so…so fucking wrong. But I couldn’t stop it from happening. If the girls were willing, they would resist any attempt to free them. Who knew what they’d been promised? They’d run away for whatever reason and endured the hardship of homelessness, being used for their bodies, for who knew how long, just to make enough money to survive. Some may have had terrible addictions and Rosali had helped them break away from the deadly habits. Their blood smelled sweet and fresh, without a hint of any kind of contamination. As they lowered their hoods I could see their hair was long and silky, their skin glowing with health.

What could I offer in the moment that would even tempt them to escape?

Absolutely nothing.

A scream pierced the air. Kicking and twisting her body, one last girl was dragged into the room. Her white robe was torn and bloodstained. Two guards were holding her, and she wasn’t strong enough to wrench out of their grips, but she never stopped trying as they dragged her onto the stage. Her blond hair stuck to the blood spilling from her bottom lip as she whipped her head back, catching one of her captors in the mouth.

He growled and lifted his hand to hit her.

“Leave her.” Rosali’s tone was sharp, but as she stepped onto the stage, the soft rose silk of her own robe flowing around her, her expression was calm. The guards shoved the girl to the floor at her feet and she curved her hand under the girl’s chin, looking down at her, a sad smile on her lips. “I had such hope for you. Why have you changed your mind about the life I’ve offered you, Kimmy?”

“I don’t want this anymore. You said we had a choice.” The girl, Kimmy, couldn’t have been more than seventeen. Her smooth cheeks glistened with tears as she stared up at Rosali. “Please let me go. I want to go home.”

Rosali giggled and bile filled my throat as she looked down at Kimmy as though her pain and fear were the sweetest treat. Kimmy must have been desperate to agree to any of this, but she’d realized this wasn’t the life she wanted. Her instincts were probably screaming for her to get out of here.

But it was already too late.

“Sweetie, I didn’t think any of you would be stupid enough to reject such a generous offer.” Rosali let out an exaggerated sigh. “I thought we’d gotten rid of all the weak ones.”

Kimmy shook her head. “They got to walk away. Why can’t I?”

“Oh, honey. You actually believed that?” Rosali leaned close to the girl, but spoke loud enough for us all to hear. “They’re dead. Every one of them. They didn’t go quick and neither will you.”

A few of the girls standing in line glanced over, then quickly faced forward, likely not wanting to join Kimmy on stage.

Trembling, Kimmy’s lips parted. She rose abruptly, but Rosali grabbed her and slammed her down, rising with the sharp heel of her black stilettoes on Kimmy’s throat.

“None of that. It’s time to put on a show!” Rosali gestured to the stage. “We set this up just for you.”

“No…No!” Kimmy screamed as a guard came over, reaching up out of sight behind the overhanging curtains to pull down two shackles connected to long chains. A second guard hauled Kimmy to her feet, lifting her wrists so the first guard could restrain her. She was still shaking her head as Rosali watched her, lips slanted in amusement. “You can’t do this!”

“I already have.” Rosali clucked her tongue. “You don’t think you’re the first to make such a horrible choice, do you?”

One guard handed Rosali a whip and Kimmy’s eyes widened. She paled and jerked at the chains. Metallic clinking filled the room as the crowd watched Rosali back up a few feet, lazily sweeping the length of the whip across the floor like it was a new toy she couldn’t wait to play with. She flicked her wrist.

CRACK!

“Stop!” I shoved away from the table, my heart in my throat. The whip hadn’t touched Kimmy, but she sobbed and trembled as though fear alone had ripped her apart. She wouldn’t last long being tortured and if Rosali wasn’t having fun, she’d kill the girl. Or leave her to the guards, which would be so much worse. “Let her go.”

Rosali arched one delicate brow, glancing over at Cyrus, who’d relaxed in his chair, watching me as though I’d just done a neat trick.

Seeing that he wouldn’t interfere, Rosali turned her attention to me. “But why?”

“Because what’s the fucking point, you crazy bitch? She’s just one girl. You have others willing to do exactly what you want.” I struggled for a way to reason with the creature who’d proven to be even more sadistic than Cyrus. And more easily entertained. She wouldn’t care if the girl died quick, while Cyrus would have wanted to put on the best possible show for his guests.

But she was also more likely to make rash decisions if a better opportunity was offered.

“Let her go.” I took a deep breath. Squared my shoulders. “Use me instead.”

“Oh, Lydia, you really do like sacrificing yourself, don’t you?” Rosali smirked, tapping her bottom lip with one red tipped finger. “But you belong to Cyrus and he won’t let me play with you. Isn’t that mean of him? I let him play with all my toys.”

Cyrus leaned forward, meeting my eyes as I looked back at him. He steepled his hands on the table. “I swore I wouldn’t let her have you again, but you’re asking for this.”

“You know I can’t just sit here and watch her whip that girl to death.”

His lips curved slightly. “I know. And you’ll survive anything she does to you.”

I wet my bottom lip with my tongue. “Almost anything.”

He inclined his head and stood, regarding Rosali, his expression hard. “I do like to indulge my pet, so I’ll give her this. But she is to be returned to me in one piece, Rosali.”

“Define one piece?” Rosali giggled when Cyrus frowned at her. “Oh, all right. You’re no fun.”

Shaking his head, Cyrus motioned me toward the stage. My pulse quickened, loud in my ears, my throat tightening as I made my way across the room. This had to be one of the stupidest things I’d ever done, but my life had lost all meaning. I had no purpose other than to stay alive for Alrik’s sake.

Sparing the girl made me feel like I could still do some good. Like the part of me that fought so hard to stop these monsters from harming the innocent was still in here somewhere. Maybe I couldn’t take them out, guns blazing, like I once had.

But I could do this.

The guards released Kimmy from the chains and she lunged forward, throwing her arms around my neck, her whole body shaking as she sobbed. “Don’t do this. Thank you—god, thank you so much for helping me, but you can’t let them hurt you.”

I hugged her tight, whispering in her ear. “You have one shot. While they’re focused on me, you fucking run. Run and don’t look back. If they catch you, force them to kill you quick.”

Her tears wet my cheeks as she nodded and drew away.

A guard reached for her.

I slammed the heel of my palm into his nose. Drove my elbow into the second guard’s throat. Rammed into both and pushed them off the stage.

Kimmy ran.

“Cyrus!” Rosali stomped her foot, looking from me to the side stage door Kimmy had bolted through. “She’s messing up everything!”

Cyrus folded his arms behind his head and smirked. “You wanted to play. Aren’t you having fun?”

“No!” Rosali backed up as I stepped toward her. “Make her stop!”

Fear filled Rosali’s eyes and I smiled. No way would I get close enough to actually do anything to her. Her guards were already closing in and the crowd was grumbling, likely ready to come after me themselves if I went too far. But knowing she was afraid of me was fucking satisfying. She was strong enough to fight me, but too terrified to try. Maybe no one else had hurt her before. Managed to hunt her down. Made her fear for her life.

I wished I could remember the look in her eyes when I’d shot her. When she’d realized I could end her. Those memories were gone, but at least I’d always have this beautiful moment.

A fist slammed into the side of my head. I dropped to my knees, shielding my face as the guards hit me again and again. Blood filled my mouth. Blurred my vision. My ears rang and the excited murmur of the crowd rose around me as they encouraged the guards to beat me to death.

“Control your dogs, Rosali.”

Cyrus hadn’t shouted, but his voice cut through the noise and the room went silent. The guards hauled me up and shackled my wrists above me.

Every inch of my body throbbed with pain, but I still smiled, blinking away the blood in my eyes as Rosali finally approached me.

“You’re pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” Rosali bit her bottom lip, reaching up to smooth my hair away from my eyes. “You know I’ll make you suffer more for what you just did, but you’re still smiling. Why?”

“Because no matter what you do to me, you can’t escape those nightmares where I’m waiting for you. Where you’re weak and powerless and my face is the last one you’ll ever see.” I was guessing, but the way she swallowed, her skin losing all color, told me I was right. “Even when I’m dead, you’ll think of me. And that makes me so fucking happy.”

She nodded slowly. “I guess I will. But you’re not going to die, Lydia. Because between those nightmares, I’m going to have the most wonderful dreams. Dreams filled with the sweet sounds of your screams.”

“Screams caused by someone else?” I laughed, loving the way she winced at the sound. I was so gonna regret this, but it was worth it. “Yeah, I’m sure that will be very satisfying.”

Tossing the whip aside, she stepped up to me, hissing between her teeth. “So fucking satisfying, because this time, I’ll be the one making you scream. You’ll beg me to stop, but I won’t. And Cyrus won’t save you this time. I know him a lot better than you do, Lydia. He wanted this. He knew you couldn’t sit there and watch that girl suffer. But keep telling yourself you acted on your own. That you’re more than his new favorite performer.”

My lips parted, but I didn’t have a smart retort this time, because her words sounded too close to the truth. Cyrus had brought me to Rosali’s party, where the attention was supposed to be on the girls she’d trained, and rather than letting her have the spotlight, he’d made her look weak. The pet he’d trained—which would be me—was too much for her to handle. But I’d come in by his side, looking tame and completely under his control.

I’d walked right into a power play between them.

This was not going to end well.

“Keep smiling, pretty girl.” Rosali’s lips curved as she stepped away from me, holding her hand out to her guard, who placed an ivory handled dagger in her palm. “Show the audience how pretty you are before the tears start to fall.”

She cut through my shirt. Sliced open the sleeves. Let the material fall. My jeans were next. Goosebumps rose all over my skin as the cool air brushed my naked flesh. I stared straight ahead without blinking, bracing for the pain I knew would come. No matter what she did, I wouldn’t scream, or whimper, or cry. Even if putting me up on stage had been Cyrus’s plan all along, it didn’t matter. He was watching me, expecting me to prove he was better than her, more capable of taking someone strong, someone who’d been born to hunt and kill creatures like him, and turning them into the perfect pet.

Not a label I wanted, but who was I fooling? This was all I could be so long as he had me, and I couldn’t see any way out. Pleasing him would spare me much worse pain in the future. And would piss her off, which was an awesome bonus.

So long as I could make it through the next few minutes. Then maybe hours.

However long it took for Rosali to realize she’d lost this round.

Her gaze locked on mine. “We’ll see about that.”

The first cut caught me by surprise. A sharp pain low on my stomach. The next over my ribs. I didn’t wince. She circled me, brushing her fingers along my side. I inhaled roughly when she touched me. The graze of her nails had my body bracing for pain, all my nerves tingling, oversensitive to the slightest touch.

She lifted my hair off my back and laid it over my shoulder. Traced her finger along the scars there. “These must have been so beautiful when they were fresh.”

A cut and I bit into my cheek. A slice of agony. My skin parting under the blade. Warm blood spilling down my back. My thighs. Pooling at my feet.

The blade left me.

Returned.

Another cut.

The chains rattled. I shivered as the throbbing ache spread. Every inch of my back split open. A raw mess. I bit hard into my tongue. Tears wet my lashes.

She came around in front of me, tipping my chin up with the flat of the blade. “You’re good at this.”

The dagger sliced down across my chest. Over my left breast. Then my right.

I tipped my head back as the pain surrounded me. Inhaled roughly. Opened my eyes as her footsteps sounded in front of me again.

Her lips form a little pout. “This isn’t fun anymore.” She brought the dagger to her mouth, flicking her tongue out to catch a droplet from the tip before tapping her bottom lip with the blade. “I think you’re enjoying this too much, and I have guests to entertain. Shall we end this now?”

Deep breath in. Letting it out, little at a time. My body was healing slowly without the strength of my blood. My vision blurred as more spilled with the languorous beat of my heart. I didn’t answer her. Nothing I could say would make this any easier.

One of the guards stepped up to Rosali’s side, a smirk on his lips as he handed her something I couldn’t see. He folded his arms over his chest, dragging his eyes up my body, licking his lips as though looking at a feast spread out before him that he couldn’t wait to devour. I ignored him, following Rosali’s every move instead, refusing to let her catch me off guard. If she’d moved on from the knife, if she planned to use the whip, or some other tool for torture, I needed to prepare myself for the pain to change.

She raked her hand into my hair. Jerked my head back.

“Rosali.” Cyrus’s tone was firm. Sharp with warning. “Watch yourself.”

Rosali snickered, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Don’t worry, my love. She’ll still be pretty when I’m done.”

She lifted her hand. Tightened her grip on my hair. Pressed something against my face, right where she’d kissed.

My skin sizzled. My whole body jerked. Intense heat, eating into my flesh, billowing out until agony paralyzed half my face.

I screamed.

And Rosali smiled.