Kisses in the dark.
Something worth living for.
I pushed myself up onto my elbows, every muscle screaming. My head pounded in time with the thumping of the cell’s wards, a dull ache gnawing at the base of my skull.
I’d never fully escaped this throbbing migraine, not even in Venice.
Like the pain of this place had been permanently etched into my marrow.
The cell was small. No bed, no furniture—just a stinking drain in the center of the floor and old stains radiating out like petals of a rotting flower.
Even braced against them, old memories stirred—the crack of bone, the roar of the crowd, the Overseer’s laughter as he pitted me against monsters and men alike. The Fossa had been my crucible, the forge that changed me into something other than a vampire.
Once, I’d clawed my way out of this hole with fangs and fire and sheer rage.
Now, I was back.
“Well, well,” a familiar voice purred. “Prisoner 1445. Home at last.”
It took me a second to catch my breath, to fortify myself against that fucking voice I still heard in my nightmares. Smoothing every bit of emotion from my expression, I turned toward the bars.
The Overseer stood beyond, hands folded behind his back. He was unchanged—brutish shoulders filling out his worn leather coat, pale, almost white hair slicked back from a face carved in cruel lines. His eyes were colorless, a creature who thrived in darkness, and they lit up with unholy delight when they met mine.
But my eyes fell to the brand around his throat, pulsing faintly. He’d bound himself to this place completely over the years. This was his kingdom.
We were his subjects.
And I’d been his favorite target.
“Miss me, boy?” he asked.
I forced myself to sit all the way up, back pressing against the rough wall.
“I’d say I missed your ugly fucking face,” I rasped, “but I’d be lying.”
Not my best comeback, but his lips thinned out, so it hit hard enough.
“You always did have a smart mouth,” he said. “Even when you were bleeding out on the sand.”
He stepped closer to the bars, leaning in slightly. Two of his guards gripped my chains and yanked, spreading my arms until my chest strained. The torchlight throwing his features into deep relief, he reached out and ran a finger down the line of tattoos, concentration on his scarred, battered face.
“I’ll admit, I was disappointed the day you showed up with these.” His gaze flicked down, taking me in—the pagan tattoos, ash smeared across my clothes, blood crusted at the corner of my mouth. “After I went to all the trouble to turn you into my pet monster. Sealing an immortal demon away under a network of pagan magic… clever, really. Then you escaped. Built yourself a nice, respectable life in a pretty city. Got yourself a bride, I hear.”
Bride.The word landed like a blow.
Emberline.What happened to my fucking wife?
He saw the flicker of doubt in my eyes, and that cruel smile sharpened.
“Ah,” he crooned, “The DiRavello ice princess, wasn’t it? Fiery little thing. Shame about the… accident. Heard no one got out alive. Burned. To. A. Crisp.” My eyes never left his. “At least, that’s whatmy sourcetells me.”
I lunged for the bars before I could stop myself.
The guards yanked, chains snapped taut, slamming me to a halt. Pain flared as the manacles bit into my skin, cold iron sapping my strength in an instant. But this pain…was only a taste of what would soon be inflicted on me.Power surged through the metal bars, identical to the containment circle that had dropped me.
The Overseer laughed.
“Does she know?” he asked softly. “Does the little princess recognize the monster locked beneath your skin? Does she know how much danger she is in every night she sleeps beside you? Does she know you would consume her if only those marks were gone?”
