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“Hmm...perhaps less alive than I thought,” Thorne murmured, a grin stretching across his lips. “But see how that one’s death brings his opponent life? That’s how humans work. But you know that better than anyone, don’t you, darling?”
Haven caught his breath. He blinked, shivering and seeing unwanted images behind his eyelids. He wanted to wrench them from his mind, to expunge them forever, never see them again.
After that, the body was collected to be discarded, and more pets were forced into the ring. Blood splattered the onlookers as cheers rang out. Eventually, the dogs were parsed down to the single digits, only the winners remaining. They’d be led back to their cells, given “meat” for dinner, and treated with marginally more kindness in reward of their victories.
“Now, my love, the part you’re to play.” Thorne stroked Haven’s hair and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Haven’s neck. Haven shuddered and nodded, steeling himself, knowing what would come next.
“Friends.” Thorne again addressed the crowd of vampyres. “We are so honored to host the Dominion in New Avalon. Indeed, we’re prepared to present you and yours with every luxury imaginable. And so, my sweet progeny Haven has offered to allow the leaders of our council to sample his sweet blood and his beautiful body as a reward. Please be sparing when you sample him—he has only so much blood after all.”
Thorne chuckled and nodded to Haven, issuing him the silent order.
Swallowing, Haven moved forward, stepping closer to one of the bound cattle who sleepily gazed up at him with wide, glassy eyes. In one fell swoop, Haven knelt to one knee, bared his fangs, and drained the human dry. Ambrosia and blood filled his body, swimming through him, clouding his mind.
The easier to undertake his next task. To be used, he needed to drift away.
As he moved to the next cattle and drained him just the same, his vision clouded. He barely registered the hands that slipped around his waist, the teeth that sank into his neck, the fingers that unbuttoned his trousers.
Slip away. Shut them out, he bid himself. Let the Ambrosia take hold.
He drifted, lost at sea, while a wave of vampyres swallowed him up.
CHApTER TEn
Cypress
Haven was gonefor the entire night. And though Cy was glad for the freedom and the chance to explore the room uninterrupted, something didn’t sit right. Something about the look in Haven’s eyes before he left. The Dominion’s meeting would commence the following night—tonight was for festivities and debaucheries. Gluttony. Surely, Haven would enjoy himself.
So why did Cy worry for him?
He’d shared so much of himself and his past with the vampyre. Why had he done it?
Because there was something more to Haven, more than met the eye. There was a part of him that was still human, a part of him that suffered, that felt pity and empathy. Perhaps he could be an ally…if only Cy could get through to him. It was either that or give him up to Thorne—one way or the other, Cy was getting the hell out of here.
He searched the room for additional intel, but there was nothing more. Nothing out of the ordinary. No new letters or information. Nothing to occupy his thoughts, to distract him from the strange blanket of apprehension.
Just before the sun rose, Haven stumbled back into the room, his arm slung over Sirene’s shoulder. His usual measured strides faltered as he tumbled forward out of Sirene’s arms, waving her off as he used the furniture for balance. His chest heaved, his body shook, his clothing in disarray. The vest and brocade Cy had helped him into earlier had been discarded, and his smooth hair was in knots. Even his usually clear eyes were strange, glazed with a strange wetness. Was he drunk? Cy hadn’t known that vampyres could get drunk.
Without thinking, Cy was on his feet, lurching forward to help Haven—at the same time Sirene did the same.
“Leave me,” Haven hissed at Sirene. “Leave me. I’m fine.”
Sirene met Cy’s eyes then as if noticing him for the first time. Her expression begged his assistance.
Cy approached. Haven gripped the wall with elongated nails digging into the wood for support. When Cy drew near, Haven’s eyes narrowed on him, his lips opening to reveal his sharp white fangs. “What’s wrong?” Cy asked, holding his hands out in surrender.
“Stay back,” Haven hissed.
“Something’s wrong. Tell me.”
“I’m fine. Leave me be.”
“You can barely stand, my Lord,” Sirene interjected, moving close again.
Cy was close enough to touch now, close enough to put his hands on Haven’s trembling body. But the defiant look in those blood red eyes held him at bay. “Let me help you.”
“Both of you get back!”
“Are you hurt?” Cy considered him, taking in his tight frame for any wounds, any outward indications of harm having been done. But there was nothing. He looked back at Sirene, whose eyes were still locked on Haven. Her lips were pressed together, wordless, silent. But upon her face, she wore a pinched distraught expression.
