Prologue

 

Blood dripped slowly down the human’s hand, lingering when it reached her fingertip before it finally splattered onto the floor below. Her whimper joined the chorus of sobs and cries, of screams and wails, as the mortals swayed on chains and spiked cuffs dug deeper into their flesh.

The vampire gazed thoughtfully at her, reaching out to smear his fingertip across the line of blood.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked down at him. Tears slid down her cheeks, and the look she gave him was one of pure pleading. She knew better than to beg, though.

She’d seen what happened to people who had, and she knew who reigned. Humans sure as fuck weren’t in charge.

He only chuckled. “I’m not helping you, Princess.” His smile showed fangs.

For the first time, she tried to edge away from him. It was stupid, considering she was dangling from the ceiling like a fish on a hook. The blood only trickled faster, leaving several more splotches on the floor.

He shook his head. Did she really think squirming against the shackles would do anything to help her?

Holding her gaze, he brought his finger to his lips, licking it clean.

She closed her eyes.

Foolish girl. He wasn’t going to go away just because she couldn’t see him. He cupped her ass with one hand and slid it down to her thigh, though his touch remained impersonal. “You should really be relieved,” he said conversationally before he tugged down on her leg, driving the spikes deeper into her wrists.

She screamed.

“In a few hours, it will all be over,” he told her. “Just think. You could’ve ended up as a slave to someone like me for longer than single a night. Beg for death, beautiful. Someone might just have mercy on you.”

Unlikely. But possible.

He might even be the one to slit her throat and gorge himself on the blood as it spilled down her neck. The mess usually bothered him, but tonight… Tonight was different. He’d bathe in blood and only mourn its loss a little. It was a waste, really, but tonight was the anniversary of the Takeover. He would join his kin in celebrating.

“Having fun?”

The vampire turned, arching a brow when he saw Julian Ivers standing behind him. “I didn’t know witches were invited,” he remarked.

Julian smirked. “Desi invited me.”

Desi. Desideria.

Even he knew enough to be wary of that vampire — and that extended to the witch she kept at her side, the one who smelled of blood. Her blood, he assumed, with a measure of distaste. He didn’t approve of mortals drinking vampire blood unless they were being turned, and even then…

The idea of turning some of these beasts disgusted him even more.

“I assume she wants to lick the blood off of you,” the vampire said dryly — probably in the middle of the floor where everyone had to watch, at that.

“Probably.” Julian shrugged.

“And you want to bathe in human blood?” Witches were so close to human that they might as well be. It was damn near cannibalism, and he had to draw the line somewhere.

“It isn’t like I have to worry about diseases, Briar.” Julian’s smile took on a feral edge, daring him to continue in that vein. “But you know that.”

Briar glanced back up at the human woman, squeezing her ankle once more before letting her go. His mood had been ruined, and her misery no longer amused him.

This was unnatural. Witches weren’t meant to be this entrenched in the vampire world.

But then, the Ivers family hadn’t gotten where they were by following the traditions of their kind.

“No,” Briar said. “I suppose not.” He dragged his finger through the girl’s blood again and stepped closer to Julian. Meeting the witch’s eyes, he painted Julian’s lips with it, a grim smile curving onto his lips.

Julian grabbed his hair and yanked him close, catching Briar’s lips with his own.

Briar’s fangs tore into Julian’s lip a second after the kiss caught him off guard. He snarled as he reacted, slamming the witch against the wall. His fingers closed around Julian’s throat, squeezing. Let him see that vampire blood might protect him against disease, but it wouldn’t protect him against suffocation.

“You grow too bold, Julian,” he growled. “She can’t protect you from everything.”

“No,” Desideria’s too-sweet voice agreed from beside him. “I can’t.”

He hadn’t even heard her approach, which irritated him. He inclined his head to her, relaxing his grip on Julian’s throat enough to allow the witch to breathe.

Barely.

“But I will be displeased if you kill him, Briar,” she continued, closing her hand over his own. She peeled back one of his fingers and snapped it.

Briar hissed in pain, glaring at her as it began to knit back into place. Crazy bitch. He didn’t drop the witch. “Careful, Desi. Not everyone here is fond of you, and even you should beware of numbers.”

Desideria had him pinned against the wall by his throat before he even knew what was happening — and every finger of his right hand had been broken.

She squeezed his throat, asking thoughtfully, “Do you think his head would pop off if I kept squeezing, love?”

Julian glared at Briar from beside her, rubbing his neck as he recovered much like a cat with ruffled fur might. “We should find out,” he said.

Briar grabbed for Desideria’s wrist, kicking out at her. The next thing he knew, his cheek was pressed against the wall while the slip of a girl held him in place. She pinned his arms uncomfortably behind him, pressing against him and digging her fingers into where she held his wrists together in two small hands.

“Numbers,” Desideria said with a dreamy little sigh. “We should all beware of numbers, Briar.” Her lips pressed against the back of his neck. “You should enjoy the bloodbath while you still can.”

Impossibly, a shiver ran down his spine. “What are you going on about?” he demanded.

“I’m not going on about anything,” she said, flexing her fingers around his wrists.

He gritted his teeth as shockwaves of pain surged down his arms. “You’ve made your point, Desideria. Let me go.”

“Do not threaten what is mine,” she said from behind him, her fangs grazing the top of his spine.

“Is he yours?” Briar spat. “Or are you his?”

Dangerous. He regretted the words instantly.

But she laughed. Laughed! She should’ve been ashamed of the mere insinuation that a witch might control her.

“I belong to no one unless I allow it.”

His spine snapped beneath the force of her elbow driving into his back, and he crumpled to the floor in agony. His body would heal it, but it wasn’t going to be any more pleasant than the break itself. He stared up at her in disbelief. She did all of this over a witch?

No. Over his insult. Outwardly calm as she might seem, she hadn’t been amused.

A small foot hovered over his throat. He couldn’t move to bat it away.

“Mind your tongue,” Desideria said, putting more pressure on his neck. “Or I’ll make you swallow it.”

Briar believed her.

Her smile abruptly turned sunny, and she stepped back — a mere girl in a pretty white dress again, harmless and guileless. “Good boy.” She turned, leaving him on the floor in agony.

Julian smirked down at him, blowing Briar a kiss before he followed her.

Snarling from his helpless position on the floor probably looked ridiculous, but he bared his fangs anyway — not that either of them saw it or would care if they did.

By the time his bones had knitted back together, they were both lost in the crowd.

He straightened, tugging at the neckline of his button-down shirt, and steeled himself. Of course there was a small crowd staring at him, murmuring amongst themselves like he wasn’t a vampire and he couldn’t hear every goddamn word they were saying. He snarled again, which was far more effective when he wasn’t on the ground, but it didn’t help enough.

He shoved his way through the gathered group of vampires. One way or another, he was going to enjoy the evening.

If only Desideria’s words would stop lingering in his thoughts…