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But how? I struggle against whoever’s pinning me in place. I am not a fighter. I don’t even know how to properly throw a punch. I scramble, trying to recall anything from all those times I sat and watched Vivvy train. Desperation rakes through me. Maybe…
I inch up on my tiptoes and thrust my head backward. The sickening sensation of bone crunching from the impact churns my stomach, and I wince at the pain radiating across the back of my skull. I’m released with a shriek, and I throw myself at Quill, snatching the silver chain from his throat and tugging it. The hunter who’d lassoed him stumbles forward as I’m seized off the ground and dragged away, kicking and screaming. I clutch the chain for dear life. Blessedly, the backward momentum of my abduction grants Quill just enough room to duck under the chain. With methodical brutality, he hurls himself at several of the hunters, but he is one vampire against many who have been bred to slaughter his kind.
Bones snap in equal measure to silver slashes.
Bile climbs up my throat as I scream for them to stop, to leave him alone.
I fear he will not escape this.
Suddenly, a cloth clamps across my mouth and nose. It reeks of chemicals.
They mean to drug me, to take me back. I thrash against the cloth, mauling the hands of whoever is pressing it against me.
“How could you betray me like this?” Vivvy growls into my ear.
She tightens her grip. I’m lightheaded as I hold my breath. My vision becomes fuzzy. The hard edges that make up Quill have become soft, darkened paint strokes.
Three shadows loom behind him—readying for a killing blow.
My body forces me to inhale.
Then, nothing.
Chapter 12
RORY
The early morning sun glares at me, as if she’s aware of the sins I committed while she slept—invited a vampire in, made him mine, attempted to run away from my duty.
I sit up in bed, wincing at the sharp pain radiating at the back of my skull. I prod the tender spot with two fingers and grimace. Definitely bruised. I survey the rest of my body. Everything’s tender from my scalp to the soles of my feet. Even the stupid, useless, vessel thumping madly at the memory of last night, at the thought of Quill being captured and tortured.
A scream swells inside of me as violent and dangerous as a winter storm, but I tamp it down. There were enough theatrics last night. Today… Today, I have to deal with the consequences of my actions, along with the devastating fact that I am going to die tonight.
My head is pounding as I reach for a glass of water on the nightstand.
“Good. You’re awake,” Vivvy says, voice as sharp as the sword strapped to her hip. “What were you thinking? Yet again, you’ve brought disgrace upon our family. King Joal is on his way here to decide whether or not you shall be sacrificed or burned for treason.”
Her braid is messy, blonde tendrils snaking out at odd angles, and her all-black attire is wrinkled. Did she sleep in here last night? My gaze dips to the scratches all over the back of her hands, gleaming with ointment.
The night before comes rushing back to me on a wave of nausea. I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper. She drugged me. Then she lugged me back into this manor and babysat me throughout the night to ensure no one else got in the way of her fucking ascension. Hatred spears through my chest like a silver stake—startling and deadly.
“You drugged me,” I growl. My heart burns with vitriol. “What happened after I passed out? What happened to Quill?”
Vivvy exhales, nostrils flaring. “Did you not hear me? You have brought disgrace upon our fucking family.”
“I heard you,” I say, swallowing past the hoarseness in my voice. “I just don’t care. I’m dying tonight, and it’s going to be by moonstone. I’m the only sacrifice Adelphi has this year, so you and I both know King Joal will never choose the pyre.”
She’s across the room in a flash, wrapping her hand around my wrist and seizing me from the bed. I barely get my feet beneath me as she drags me across the floorboards and into the attached bathing chamber. She flings me into the side of the tub, and my thigh slams against the porcelain in a bright burst of pain.
“It’s sacrilegious to harm the sacrifice.” The words slip out so easily, habitually.
She glares at me as she fiddles with the faucet. “You are no worthy sacrifice.” As the basin fills with steaming water, she tosses in eucalyptus sprigs and white rose petals and a teaspoon of vanilla bubbling oil. All scents recommended for the rite to purify my body. “Get in.” I remain where I am, defiant. She grits her teeth. “I will not make this pleasant if I’m to force you.”
“I don’t need your assistance bathing, Vivvy.”
Her gaze drifts to the straight-blade on the table next to the bath. “You cannot be trusted.”
Though I flush at her declaration, chagrined, I strip off my filthy dress and climb into the tub. I settle into the scorching water, ignoring how her words cut through me like the blade she plans to end my life with. You can’t be trusted. Why? Because I made a decision that would have put myself first and kept me alive?
