Most vampires are male for a reason. Something in their genes makes the transition possible. Females aren’t so lucky, our biology resistant to the change. Most who are bitten die horrible deaths, their bodies practically twisted inside out as the vampire virus ravages them.
Only a rare, precious few females are born with the genes that allow them to survive the transition. Their bloodlines are meticulously mapped, the females protected and coddled from birth, then sold to the highest bidders.
I am not one of those precious few.
But as I lie amongst the dead bodies, I can’t refute the devastating truth.
Instead of granting me the mercy of death, they infected me with enough vampire saliva to turn me into a fucking monster.
No tears fall when I finally manage to twist and crawl over the bodies. I ignore the way the bones of the corpses beneath me snap and cut into my flesh. The dead desperately grab at me, as if trying to claim me as one of their own.
I keep going, pretending their flesh doesn’t squish between my fingers. My hand slips, and I come face-to-face with a woman who bears a striking resemblance to me. Her white, cloudy eyes stare back at me, begging me for justice, and my resolve firms.
I refuse to give up, refuse to give Charles the satisfaction of dying.
Not now.
Not until I destroy him and eradicate every last member of House Dafoe.
ChapterThree
STANTON
Two Months Later
“Idon’t see why we have to investigate Dafoe House ourselves,” Tobias rumbles, twisting his head side to side, and his bones crack menacingly in the silence of the vehicle as he glares at me in the rearview mirror. “We should’ve sent one of the other teams.”
Rage darkens his blue eyes, the tattoos etched into his flesh rippling when his muscles bunch against the need to shift, and I have to commend him for his restraint.
It takes an enormous amount of control to stop from shifting once the process starts.
I eye him for a second longer, then focus back on the road with a sigh. While shifters are excellent warriors, they are volatile creatures at the best of times.
The two ancient wolves on my team have no parallel, veritable beasts in a fight, but they have hair triggers when certain subjects are mentioned.
Namely, anything to do with that bastard Dafoe.
“Why even pretend to investigate? We already know Dafoe is guilty as sin.” Castle grunts in annoyance, the big Viking absently stroking the bone knife he has tucked into his belt. He flicks a glare in my direction, his lips curling in disgust. “We should be removing the bloodsucker from the face of the earth, not coming to his rescue.”
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, my jaw clenched tight as I pray for patience. They love provoking me, but I refuse to take the bait.
While I agree with the wolves regarding that reprobate Dafoe, it’s not my decision. “We each took a vow to keep the peace between the thirteen houses. If someone attacked Dafoe House, then we need to know,” I remind them for the hundredth time, careful to keep any inflection from my voice.
It doesn’t matter that we each have our own reasons to want Dafoe and his men dead.
“Funny how they want us to do a welfare check on a bunch of murdering psychos, but we’re not allowed to investigate the corrupt fuckers,” Milo mumbles under his breath, pouting as he stares down at the ever present tablet in his lap.
I could give the young vampire empty platitudes, legal reasons why we can’t do anything against Dafoe without proof, but I don’t bother. Until we obtain evidence of wrongdoing, our hands are tied. Dafoe is too good at covering his tracks—paying off or killing anyone who gets in his way.
Human casualties are expected in our world.
It’s all bullshit.
Unfortunately, until Dafoe moves against another vampire family, we’re stuck on the sidelines.
We pull up in front of the vampire mansion at dusk, and I grimace at the pretentious monstrosity, the building full of ornate furniture and such opulence that it’s obscene…much like its owner.
All Dafoe cares about is wealth and power and crushing anyone who opposes him. He selects his victims carefully, breaking their spirits, then grooming them to be just like him—totally and completely corrupt.
