Chapter One
Evelyn - 1897
“On your left!”I yell and sweep my sword out to take the head off the ghoul reaching for me, its nightmarishly long claws outstretched.
Immy squeaks and rolls, narrowly avoiding the set of razor-sharp teeth which snap closed where her leg was moments ago. She recovers her stance quickly enough, but her cheeks are flushed with embarrassment at being caught out yetagain.
“Thanks,” she calls back, stabbing back with her daggers until the blades meet flesh.
Itoldher it was stupid to bring close range weapons to a fight against creatures with incredibly venomous claws. But did my sister listen? Of course not.
The ghouls keep coming. The horde of them surges forward in wave after wave of undead. They might pass for human at a distance, but they can’t maintain the charade up close as vampires and lycans do. It’s not just the smell of rot and death that does it. Vicious long claws hang from each finger, and their needlelike fangs force their mouths to remain partially open at all times. Their clothes are ripped, their skin pasty and bloodstained, and their expressions are consumed by the mindless hunger that drives their kind.
I don’t know why Immy insisted on coming with me tonight. I know the creatures frighten her more than she cares to admit. Her arms shake as she tugs the daggers free and moves on to the next, and she bites her lip so furiously that her fangs have punctured the skin.
Another ghoul moves in front of me, cutting off my view of her for long enough that panic settles in my gut.
The tension only dissipates once the creature is dead and I can see for myself that Immy is still unhurt.
“You should have stayed at the manor,” I argue, sweeping past her to spear the ghoul about to take her head.
“I want to help!” she insists, shaking her curls out of her face and almost taking a claw to her eye for her trouble.
Once again, I’m forced to hold back a sigh. Watching Immy fight is an exercise in self-restraint. She knows all of the forms, yet lacks even the most basic battle instincts. Still, she perseveres. Whether that’s because she thinks it will please our sire or due to some genuine desire to prove herself, I don’t know.
None of our other sisters would’ve let her tag along, but I’ve always had a soft spot for our clumsiest sister. That fondness is why I’m currently doing twice the work, defending her and clearing out the nest.
Perhaps next time I should take Bella’s advice and insist that Immy stay behind.
Even as I think it, I know it won’t happen. It would be cruel to deny her the chance to leave the manor, given how much she hates it there. Too many vampires in our coven look down on Immy, even though she has good intentions. Our sire barely veils his contempt for her, and the rest of them follow his example.
She goes down a few minutes later, having lost her footing. I twist, beheading yet another of the monsters as it bears down on her. I bare my own fangs at the remaining three. We’ve almost cleared this nest, but it’s taken its toll on both of us.
Immy shoves herself back to her feet and reclaims the dagger she dropped in her fall. With a hiss, she jumps at the ghoul on the right, taking its legs out from beneath it.
I take the one on the left, and we turn as one to finish the final monster.
A crossbow bolt explodes through its forehead before we can take it out, followed by a second through its heart. Black blood spurts, the spray catching both of us.
Immy and I turn in the direction the bolt came from, and I smile as I catch sight of a familiar head of shaggy bronze hair stepping out from the shadows of the moonlit forest.
“Frost,” I whisper, sheathing my sword. A secret smile plays across the edge of my lips.
It’s been weeks since I last saw my thrall, and—as much as I pride myself on my independence—I’m not sure I could have managed much longer. Even with our bond humming soothingly in my chest, I was slowly going mad without him.
As my thrall, he’s pledged his blood to me. In return, the thrall bond grants him a longer lifespan, but he’s still only mortal. A bond with a human will never be as strong as the true one that vampires can share with lycans and other vampires; and mortal blood isn’t as powerful, which is why most vampires would never consider it.
The others in my sire’s court would consider Frost as a weakness if they knew about him. Yet, I can’t bring myself to regret the decision.
This man is the one part of my life that feels real. One of the few things I have that isn’t complicated and commanded by my sire.
But the secret nature of our relationship means he can’t be there to feed me exclusively, as a thrall should, and feeding from the donors in the manor just isn’t the same. Drinking from their veins makes me feel dirty—like I’m being unfaithful. Since Frost and I bonded, the taste of anyone else isbland.
“You could’ve left some for me, Eve,” he jests, winking and breaking my train of thought entirely.
Before he can say another word, I drop my sword and sprint for him, leaping into his arms the second I’m close enough.
He wraps me in his embrace and squeezes, hugging me tightly despite the blood all over my armour. His mortal strength is nothing compared to mine, but when his hand fists in my hair and drags my head up for a kiss, I don’t resist.
