I tried to steady my breathing, swiping at hot tears. Bryce would find Seb. He’d stay levelheaded. And Hunter and Dagger, they’d follow my trail. They’d run until their jaguar paws bled to find me. It would all be okay…
If they could catch up.
Just how fast were we going? The engine roared, pushing what felt like three hundred miles an hour. No stopping for red lights. No weaving in all the crisscrossed traffic mayhem of New Omaha. I heard the whistle of objects zipping by at unnatural speeds, and what felt like heavy wind buffeted the sides of the car. It felt like flying. No doubt that bastard Winterborn had given Conrad another magical gift.
The car soon grumbled to a halt. The trunk clunked open, and a powerful flashlight blinded me. Two pairs of rough hands dragged me from the trunk, banging my head off its open flap as they heaved.
“Be careful, you dickheads. Any injuries to her will be paid back to you tenfold!”
I struggled, spat and screamed, but it was no use. Trying to push and pull against their grip was wasting valuable energy, so I decided to stop, breathe, and take in as many details as I could. I was being hauled through a small cemetery. It was too dark to read the tombstones, but they stood as stark reminders of the danger I was in now.
I searched for yellow eyes in the distance, hope flickering deep in my chest. Nothing. But I kept that spark alive. They’d come for me. And God, if they found me in time, I’d never think about leaving New Nebraska again. We could stay in Hunter’s loft, happy together, for the rest of my life. This place was their home, their safe haven, and they were mine.
My captors led me through a creaking wooden door studded iniron, which Conrad locked and triple bolted behind him. Then we squeezed down four flights of circular stone steps, to a space about the same size as a high school gym, except the blood-toned cloth and bone décor screamed vampire court.
Dank and musty, it had no windows but flickering rows of mismatched candles crowded the room’s edges, weeping wax tears onto brass plates. On the walls hung tapestries depicting gruesome conflicts and massacres of all kinds, many of them splattered with what looked like arterial blood. I gulped, my throat dry as sandpaper.
They paraded me past red and black-draped dining tables to a sculpted stone throne at the far end of the court—a macabre symbol of power positioned atop four steep steps. The pale binding of its leatherbound headrest didn’t look like it was from an animal. Neither did the skulls encrusted into the end of each armrest. The skulls’ hollow stares and eternal smiles seemed to follow me as I was shoved down before the throne.
Conrad climbed the steps and sat petting the skulls, staring at me in unnerving silence.
I was on my knees, held down by at least three bulky vamp goons, but my mouth wasn’t bound. And I couldn’t take his eyes roving me any longer. “Well say something then!”
He yawned, examining the parts where his transparent blue armor had been smashed, before the whole shield wisped away in an implosion of thick smoke that smelt like burning car tires. He stroked the skull under his left hand, speaking wistfully. “This was a dear brother of mine. He saved my life more than once.” He tapped the opposite skull. “And this was my former coven leader. Someone who hated me with a ferocity even equal to that giant cat lover of yours.”
The pressure from his men bearing down on my shoulders was starting to ache. “I don’t give a shit.”
Conrad tutted and wagged his finger. “Well, you should. You see, one was a brother I idolized, looked up to in every way, theother a slimy old shit I took joy in murdering. But ultimately, they both make equally useful decorations. Once the skin and other bits have withered away, been scooped out, of course.”
“What the hell’s your point?”
Baring his fangs, he lurched forward on his throne, his glare fierce. “My fucking point, little human, is that we’re all skeletons waiting to happen. No matter how highly we might feel about ourselves. Like that politician—asshole Andino—I offed tonight.”
Conrad had killed our governor?
“And once we’re merely bone, all we’re good for is decoration.”
I’d heard the ravings of his diary. “And you really think by using me you can avoid it happening to you?”
He threw a casual hand. “Who can say?” A smug smile curled his mouth. “What I do know is, using your blood and Winterborn’s Fae magic, I can live longer and become more powerful than anyone in history.” He fixed his stare on mine. “As long as that little heart keeps pumping.”
“It won’t be pumping for long if you keep hitting me with metal bars.”
“The pain will stop once you’ve been properly trained,” he said, low and cold. “Struggle, and you’ll be punished. One way or another.”
“I won’t stop struggling,” I snarled. “I’ll fight and fight, until one of us is dead, and then what happens to your plans for immortality?”
Conrad’s gaze narrowed, nostrils flaring, but he kept his brewing outburst inside, pondering me.
I pushed further, stalling for time, looking for a way to make him call off his goons. “When you want to protect an asset, you put it somewhere nice and safe. You treat it with care.”
He cocked his head at me. “You make a fair point. I’ll agree to let you sit and talk with me unrestrained, if you agree to act civilized.” His fingers curled inside the eye sockets of the old coven leader’s skull as he grasped it hard. “And of course, do as I say.”
Jackpot. “I’ll be civilized,” I said through tight jaws, the strain of the vampires’ hold beginning to lance like fire through my neck and shoulders. A gasp of relief slipped out when they released, letting me straighten.
I massaged my muscles, listening for the creak of the hall’s large doors as the henchmen closed it behind them.
Conrad pointed to the nearest chair beneath his throne. “Sit. Let’s have a chat, shall we?”
