Assuming a vampire could be killed that way.
“But, no,” he said. “You had to step in. Now the members of my nest have started questioning why a fledgling has so much authority.” He pressed his hands to his head, including the one that held the knife. “I’ve lost it all.”
“Killing me won’t change anything,” Kitty said, even though she had very little idea of what he was talking about. She clutched her fingers around the shears, and ran the pad of her finger down the sharp edge. One more thing to do, and it would require all her skills to sell him a lie. “Cordon doesn’t care about me. Why do you think I’m here, instead of with him?” She nudged the box closer to the edge of the table. “He got tired of me.” The box teetered. One more push and it would fall.
Mr. Blaylock’s face turned red. “No. When you’re dead, he—”
“Will find another mistress. That’s what he does.” Kitty chuckled. “You never had a chance.”
He lunged forward, pressing the knife against her throat. “You take that back.”
The stench of decay made her gag. Up close, she could make out how his hands trembled.
He was going to kill her, and she wouldn’t learn what her life with Cordon could have been like. The petty grievances she’d been mulling over moments before vanished like chaff in the wind. What did it matter that he was a vampire? She loved him, and he loved her. All that mattered was that they were together. If she ever spoke to him again, she would tell him that, and many other things.
But she had to survive this encounter first, which meant crafting more lies.
“Cordon never loved me,” she whispered. “You failed because you thought he was weak, but it was a trick. He wanted you to think he had given up.”
Mr. Blaylock’s eyes bulged out of their sockets.
She nudged the box. It crashed to the ground and exploded, sending needles and other sharp implements clattering across the floor.
Mr. Blaylock drew his hand away from her throat.
She whipped the shears, cutting through his flesh so quickly, he didn’t even seem to notice at first. He gave her a puzzled frown, opened his mouth, then grasped her arms and brought her crumpling down with him, shattering a wooden stool in the process.
The moment she hit the ground, pain exploded in her back.
Mr. Blaylock pawed at his throat. Blood spurted out of him like a gurgling fountain, drenching his coat and her gown. She shoved him off her and tried to roll over, but there wassomething protruding from her side. Her chest didn’t feel right, either. There was a bubbling in her lungs, like she’d inhaled water. She touched something cold and metal.
Shears. Embedded between her ribs. She coughed and sprayed crimson mist.
It wasn’t over. Mr. Blaylock was wounded but still alive. She grasped for a broken stool leg, then stabbed it deep into the vampire’s heart. Only then did the man stop moving.
“Cordon,” she croaked. “Cordon!”
She could feel him through the tenuous bond that had formed, although he was still weak. Venturing outside so soon might stress him, but losing her would be far worse, and she was not prepared to die.
So instead of closing the bond, she flung open the doors in her mind and screamed as loud as she could.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Something was wrong.
Cordon turned in his bed. A particular feeling of dread settled over him. He pushed upright. “Kitty?”
Silence.
He peered through the darkness. “Kitty?”
There was no one else in the room. The woman who would now be his partner for the rest of their existence was gone.
And he had no idea where she was.
He leaped out of bed, pulled the curtains wide, and searched the room again, even though he knew it was pointless. The hollowness in his stomach and the ache in his chest told him that wherever she was, she was in danger. Their bond had not yet solidified, but he could faintly sense her emotions through the thread that connected them.
He closed his eyes.
