Page 39 of On Broken Bonds

My head swims as I watch the plant before me move, not with the wind, but of its own accord, growing, the flower rising to the top and leaves twisting together to form a large, gaping maw.

“Oh,” I gasp, as it lunges toward me. “Shit!”

Apparently, I don’t even have the self-preservation to close my eyes, because as the peony-monster lunges toward me with a menacing, near-silent whoosh, I see not my own death but something else. A man with a sword, appearing and slicing with one definite swipe down onto the roots. The plant rears back, and my heart rockets into my chest when I realize this isn’t just any man.

It’s one of the vampires.

And now, his sword glinting in the moonlight, he’s not concerned with the peonies. He’s turning those hungry eyes on me.

13

Talon

I'm not usually interested in humans.

They're fragile, predictable creatures. Most spend their lives scrambling for scraps of importance before eventually dying anyway. They’re entertaining enough in small doses, but rarely worth much sustained attention.

Which makes it particularly irritating that I can't seem to stop looking at Nyx.

The carnivorous plant lunges again. One of its vines snaps toward my face, thorns glistening with sticky venom. I sidestep easily and drive my sword through the length of it. The vine drops into the grass, twitching violently.

Behind me, Nyx sucks in a breath.

Spinning my sword, I return to my thoughts. To the woman behind me.

I first noticed her during the feast. Not because she was the most beautiful woman in the room. She wasn't. The wealthy had several beauties among them, and vampires tend to make everyone else look a little unfortunate by comparison.

Another vine lashes toward me.

I sever it without looking.

The thing shrieks. Actually shrieks. The sound is halfway between a dying animal and metal scraping across stone.

I dismiss it, my thoughts turning back to the strange human woman behind me.

No, what caught my attention was the way Nyx looked at everything around her. The food. The competitors. The gods. Like she'd stumbled into an entirely different world and couldn't quite decide whether to be horrified or fascinated by it.

Then she'd looked at me.

The memory nearly pulls a grin from my face.

Most people don't stare at vampires unless they're making a concentrated effort not to. Lady Nyx Nocturne had looked directly across the room at me, curiosity written all over her face, before realizing she'd been caught. Then she'd immediately pretended to be interested in something else.

It was a terrible performance. A charming one, admittedly. But terrible.

The plant rears upward. The central bulb splits apart like a flower blooming in reverse, revealing several rows of jagged teeth surrounding the golden blossom she'd been sent to retrieve. The thing is large enough to swallow a horse whole.

I can practically feel Nyx's horror from here.

"Stay back," I call.

As though she was planning to do anything else.

The plant snaps toward me. I leap aside. Its jaws crash shut where I'd been standing, spraying sap and shattered bark in every direction. Before it can recover, I drive my sword into the side of the creature and tear downward.

Green fluid sprays across the clearing. The plant convulses. Still not dead. Stubborn thing.

Nyx appeared to be human, but there was something unusual about her. Something that didn't quite fit. Humans have a way of dulling around the edges. They become weighed down by life, responsibility, and all the little disappointments they collect along the way.