Chapter Seven
Silas
She’s so thirsty.The back of my own throat is drier than the desert, even after downing three bottles of water. Is this what all vampires feel? Is this what Vane has felt since he was turned all those years ago?
Evelyn is so much more than I was expecting. After all of Finn’s lectures about the legendary warrior and strategist who was Cain’s favourite daughter for centuries, I imagined a grizzled beast of a woman. I definitely never thought she’d be so… delicate.
She doesn’t fit the profile we were given at all.
Her coffin sits in the centre of the apartment while Gideon checks the security for the thousandth time, and I can’t stop staring at it. The sleek, modern penthouse is completely escape-proof. The security is so top-notch that even Finn struggled to get into the systems. Not to mention, Evelyn can’t get past four immortal males in her current state. If Gideon would just open himself to the bond, he’d feel how weak she is.
Her coffin is an odd thing. Tarnished and dirty, it’s dented in places like she once struggled against her captivity, but it’s silent now. I can’t even hear her breathing.
The bond between us is quiet too; I can’t feel anything from her but the thirst.
My hand edges towards the lock.
“Go ahead,” Draven says, flipping a knife up and catching it by the blade as he saunters into the room. “Could be hot watching her maul the shit out of you.”
The only vampire in our pack probablywouldfind my death a turn on, but I pointedly ignore his taunt and turn back to her coffin.
“She’s so quiet.”
“She’s dead.”
“Undead,” I correct, absently. “It doesn’t seem right, leaving her in there after all this work to—”
I blink, and he’s in front of me. His blade presses against my lips, forcing me to stop talking or risk cutting myself on the sharp steel.
“Cain’s still in the building, you idiot,” Draven mouths, his cold eyes glued to where the knife is pressed against my skin.
The eager look on his face is an eerie reminder that Draven doesn’t particularly give a shit about my life. Or anyone else’s. To the vampire, nothing matters more than revenge, and we’re just lucky that we happen to be his best shot at it.
Another knife appears—this time athisneck—and I grin as my eyes meet a pair of familiar hazel ones over his shoulder.
Vane’s anger is a subtle thing, the low growl in his voice only audible if you really listen for it. “Hands off my brother, vamp.”
I smirk. “Draven’s just pissy because dawn’s coming and it’s his bedtime.” Nothing worse than a jet-lagged vamp.
At least Evelyn is old enough to be a daywalker. No chance of her being burned to a crisp by the sun… at least not immediately. Draven is still a few decades away from that kind of power, but he’s stronger than most, thanks to his sire.
Gideon sweeps into the room in a blur of motion, and all the blades are quickly whisked away. Our alpha probably knows what’s going on, but he doesn’t comment on it. He runs an agitated hand across his stubble-covered jaw, before combing his fingers through his mahogany brown hair.
“Cain has left,” he announces, and I work hard not to breathe a sigh of relief. Even after decades of working for the vampire king, his presence still sets me on edge. “Our instructions are to keep her in the apartment until he says otherwise. If she gets to the foyer, we’re dead men.”
“Sounds easy enough,” Vane grunts, “Let’s get this over with.”
Gideon isn’t done. “She sleeps in that coffin every day.”
I growl under my breath. “Sadistic fuck.”
“Locking her in there for almost two hundred years wasn’t enough?” Vane cracks his knuckles, unafraid to criticise now that Cain is far away. “What doeshesay?”
The subtle emphasis on that pronoun is enough to let everyone know exactly which ‘he’ Vane’s referring to without alerting anyone listening through the bugs that are probably scattered all over this place.
“We’re to do as ordered.”
Gideon turns his back to us, taking the silver key out of his pocket. His hand blisters as he holds it, but he slides it into the lock without complaint.
