Page 54 of Blood & Bedlam

Imbibing his pour is a brutal, poisonous thing and it’s going to fucking kill me.

The sound of screams and the roar of raw power breaks through the haze, and it’s a tiny consolation to know I’ve succeeded. The smell of burning clothing, the heat of a massive inferno, erupts to my back and there’s a feral grin and renewed vigor as I continue to drain Alesso.

Memory is in the Blood.

And fuck, do I wish it weren’t. I can taste every sin, every foul thievery of power, the curdle of corruption within him. I take into myself the deepest, darkest parts of him, and I hold on, long after he’s dropped to his knees. His palm scrubs down my face, and the flesh falls from my cheek, rotted.

I’m killing him, but he’s killing me too.

Our entire lives, he used my power as a link to bolster his own. He took and took and used me to further his ambitions, and with every draw of rancid blood, I take it back. I take back what was mine, what belonged to the others.

“Stop, Reine, that’s enough.” I hear the words, but my vision is gone in the haze of red, or perhaps my eyes have just been rotted away. I gurgle and choke, what’s left of my skin on fire, necromantic magic crawling like fire ants over my body. I can’t see or feel anything other than pain, can vaguely hear voices. My back rests against something hard and it’s a bolt of pain that shocks my eyes wide for the briefest of moments.

Above me is Vladimir, eyes black, covered in gore, blood pooling from the sides of his lips. In all his horror, he’s still so fucking glorious. His lips move, but I can’t understand them, and as my eyelids grow heavy and my breaths hitch, I know the magic has consumed me.

Unlike my first death, I don’t have to imagine what his eyes look like as the life leaves my body. This life, this death, is the most hauntingly beautiful, because Vladimir is the last face I see before the darkness takes me.

Vladimir

CHAPTER 29

There is a hollow in my chest, a deep, cavernous crag of empty where the Bond between us sat for less than an hour. I stare down at Reine’s ravaged body, and seeing her like this is so much worse than the impact of bones smashing against stone.

Her eyes are wide and glassy, her face covered in blood and ragged skin, torn and singed black. The smell of him is everywhere, oozing from the wounds, eating away at her organs even though her heart is no longer pumping blood to spread it.

“We need to move.”

A large hand gently rests on my shoulder, and even though I register that it’s Tully, saw him burst into the room bloodied and bruised the moment my shackles released, the growl that rips from my chest is a deadly warning. My hands shake when I push back locks of her hair gently, fingers trembling as the warmth fades from her body. Bloody tears drip over her neck, landing in fat droplets on her cheek. My mouth opens and closes, eyes searching for some way to fix this. To fix her.

She sacrificed herself for me, for my children, for my life.

This can’t be the way it ends. I slash at my wrists, press the torn flesh to her lips, forcing it down her throat. I slice again and again, until it’s a waterfall that would drown her, but her throat doesn’t work to swallow. Desperately, I realize her heart can’t pump my blood through her veins, so I pump it for her. My hands close over her sternum, massaging what’s left of the muscle.

Fates, there’s not much left. It’s all smoldering and bloodied, but I alternate with compressions and breathing into her mouth. There’s so much necrotic ichor and scar tissue in her throat that it’s hard to inflate her lungs. Sprays of blood are forced out from the hole he ripped in the side of her neck, and I close my hands over it and try again. And again.

“My star … please.” My voice shakes, cracks, as I lean down to press my mouth against her forehead. Her lips are tinged blue, the rapid decay moving at light speed with the rampant magic still churning inside of her. I beg and bargain, offer up what’s left of my soul to the Fates, but my prayers go unheard.

I gather her body close to mine, pressing my face to her neck, and the way she moves, lifeless and boneless, is my undoing. The scream that rips from my lips is agony, torment, rage. My claws ascend, tearing my skin and hers, mingling our blood, but it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing left to heal. No venom could fix this, no blood could heal what’s so fundamentally broken by magic, but I can’t let her go. I restart compressions, try to kick-start her breathing. I feel Cami next to me, but I can’t look away from Reine, not for one second.

I can’t.

I work and work over the bloodied corpse of the love of my life.

The flutter of wings echoes around us, and a pair of black, scuffed combat boots inches into my vision.

“It’s time to let her go, bruv.” Thanatos, the God of Death. His voice is gentle, but it’s a knife wound to my chest.

“I won’t,” I growl, ramping up my compressions. “You can’t fucking have her.”

He squats down, the weight of his power pulling my eyes up to his. They’re full of sorrow and kindness against the expanse of tattoos crawling up the collar of his shirt. His green hair is spiked in his signature mohawk, his blackened, leathery wings shimmering behind him. Reine was a witch, and, from what I gathered from this entire mess, one from a powerful family. Otherworlders of that caliber would require an escort from the God of Death himself, but I don’t give a damn how exalted the reaper—she’s not going.

“Her time has come, Vladimir. Let her rest.” His tattooed hand skims over her cheek and I bare my teeth, snapping at the Tempest Fugit scrawled in intricate black ink across his knuckles.

“Touch her again and I’ll tear you apart,” I roar, but he only stands, unfurling his wings, hands held up. His wings beat a gentle thrum as he rises up slowly, waiting.

“Just once is enough. Up you get, luv.” He speaks the last to Reine, and I snap my gaze back to her face as my hands work over her chest. A shimmering ghost of her essence rises from her body, and it severs the last of my sanity. She’s going to leave me, again.

I know that what I’m about to do could throw off the balance of the cosmos, but I’m far past caring. My hands stop moving, and I reach for her soul, close my fingers around her arm. When I find purchase, I pull. Hard.