“We don’t know it’s my mark?—”
“It doesn’t matter if it is or isn’t,” he says, cutting me off. “Aurora needs to feed. You know she does. She’s come too far for you to let her slip now. If you’re the only one she’s comfortable with, you need to suck it up and let her do it. Get it, suck?—”
I glare at him. “Dagon got to you.”
Ajax grins. “We’re with you, brother. We wouldn’t tell you to do anything we didn’t think you could handle.”
“I would never hurt her.”
“Exactly. So don’t let her starve.”
A primal, pulsing drive has me growling at him like he’s threatened me. Fucker laughs as we both wend back to the residence. The mere idea of her starving has my protective instincts in overdrive.
I know what I need to do, but I don’t know if I trust myself enough to do it.
CHAPTER 4
Aurora
Igraze my fingertip over the potted evening primrose, the delicate yellow petals silky beneath my touch. Gabriel, the king’s most trusted healer and doctor, brought in a selection of nocturnal plants for me to test my power against tonight.
This has been our routine every night for the past week.
The vibrant petals shiver beneath my touch. A tugging sensation pulls at my middle, my power clinging to the life of the little plant. The yellow blooms curl inward, the colors fading to an ash-black before it shrivels into a sad excuse for what it had once been.
The sight makes my heart heavy.
“Dead again,” I say, almost to myself.
Gabriel’s brow is pinched as he looks from the plant to me and back again. “What were you visualizing that time?” he asks. “What did you feel?”
I blow out a breath, a headache pulsing at the base of my skull. “The same thing I told you last night and the one before that.”
Gabriel looks at his notes, then back to me. “You felt the pull.”
“Yes,” I say, exasperated. I’ve felt very little semblance of control since Samuel turned me into a vampire against my will. The one time I felt I held any sort of value is when I helped Ajax save his mate, Grace, when she transitioned from human to vampire. My body had been overflowing with Samuel’s blood as I had been newly turned. Combined with our queen’s rare remedial abilities, we’d given Grace the best chance at surviving the transition. My blood,Samuel’sblood, had helped heal her. But Samuel had the ability to poison just as much as heal.
“Maybe I don’t have the ability to heal after all,” I admit. “Maybe only the darkest parts of him stayed with me.”
My stomach twists at the thought, and I can’t help but throw an internal pity party. I’ve watched and learned about so many of the other transitioned vampires gaining their own unique abilities. Powers that have nothing to do with the vampire who made them. But me? I earned the same power as the evil piece of shit who imprisoned and tortured me.
“You know I don’t believe that,” Gabriel says, eyes sympathetic as much as calculating. He’s been a wonderful ally since arriving at the king’s residence. He and the girls and the hunters…they’ve all done things to hold me together every time I inch toward crumbling.
I’m lucky. I know I am. I should be more grateful for the second chance at life I’ve been given. I could still be Samuel’s captive. I could still be undergoing torture, or worse—Samuel could’ve successfully broken me and turned me into the mindless servant he’d wanted me to be.
I trace my hand absently over the mating mark on my neck. I’m a mate. I knew enough about them to know it’s a bond stronger than the hunter brotherhood, stronger than any hunger or vampire impulse. But which twin do I belong to?
Saint’s face flashes behind my eyes. He’s identical to Samuel in many ways and yet, there are so many intricacies I’ve foundthat separate the pair. Saint is jagged edges and barely leashed emotions, where Samuel is smooth lines, easy smiles, and terrifying charm. Saint is fiercely loyal and protective, his heart bigger than he’ll ever admit. Samuel is the ultimate narcissist, believing his way is the only way.
Hate grips my heart with an icy fist, and cold waves of terror pulse over every inch of my being. The feeling is so familiar now, a precursor to my mind slipping into that madness I can’t control. Memories from my captivity, threatens to consume me. To steal my sense of self and shatter it.
His hands on my skin, his fangs piercing my flesh repeatedly as he drained me. I can almost feel his blood sliding down my throat. I choke on it as I try to screamno. I try to fight him off but my body is too weak, too drained. Nausea overcomes me, his power forcing me to retch so hard my sides burn. He pulls that back, just to steal my vision and attack me while I’m blind. Then, he sends waves of numbness over my body, returning my vision so I can see what he’s doing but can’t physically react?—
I clamber out of the memories, clenching my eyes shut. Breathe. I just need to try and breathe. Need to push the memories away. To not let them break me.When I get swept under and drown in the past it’s like fighting a current to come back to reality. Hard to escape the shackles the past locks me in, just like the chains he kept me in. But I’m trying. I’m really fucking trying.
Grace and I have spoken about it several times. She calls it trauma. I call it my own personal brand of hell.
“Let’s try again,” Gabriel says, and I finally blink myself back to the present. He crosses his offices to get another vibrant plant, this one a firefly petunia with bright green leaves and tiny white flowers.
