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“What are you doing? Let me g—” His mouth was covered by a gloved palm.
“Quiet,” one of the vampyres hissed. “Don’t want to wake the sleeping prince. You have a new master now. Lord Thorne has come to reclaim what’s rightfully his.”
Cy’s eyes widened. He didn’t have a chance to wrench himself free as he was yanked from the room and down the winding hallway in the darkness. He put up a fight, but damn it, he was overwhelmed. Dahlia’s blood had been drained from his system with the prior night’s activities. There were too many of them; he was helpless again. He’d had no time to grab his dagger from under the mattress. He was truly vulnerable once more.
The hallways all looked the same to him, though he did his best to commit them to memory. They were taking him to Thorne’s room. He thought he remembered the portrait of a beautiful man on the wall ahead, his body draped in a long red cloak, his hair a shimmering sheet of black.
Shoved inside a door on his right, he stumbled to his knees. The room was alight in soft, glowing candles. Boots stepped into his line of view, though his eyes were forced to the floor.
“You’re alive, then. What a pleasant surprise.”
Cy snarled in response. A hand gripped his hair and raised his head so he looked into the glowing red eyes of Thorne Bathory. The vampyre grinned at him, showcasing glittering white fangs.
“What a surprise, indeed,” Thorne repeated. “I had thought his thirst would tear you apart.”
“Perhaps you don’t know him as well as you think you do,” Cy spat.
A trill of laughter rang out as Thorne threw his head back. “Haven is mine, my creation. My blood. I know him because I made him.”
“You wanted him to kill me. Why?”
A black brow hitched. “Other than your impertinence? Because my Haven needs to be taught a lesson for his insubordination. And killing you would hurt him.”
For whatever reason, there was truth in Thorne’s words. Haven didn’t want harm to come to Cy. “So now you’ve decided to take me away from him?”
“You’re mine, aren’t you? A gift from the Varneys. So you’re mine to do with as I wish. And what I wish is for you to tell me everything you know about the Veritas.”
Cy attempted to square his shoulders, his jaw tightening in defiance. “I thought you wanted to kill me. Now you’re interrogating me?”
“I’ve changed my mind,” Thorne hissed. “And if you remain alive, why shouldn’t I use you?”
“You’re threatened by Haven’s feelings toward me. Whatever they may be.”
“Feelings toward you!” Thorne laughed. “Haven doesn’t have feelings toward you. You remind his feeble heart of one he loved in the past, a mistake he thinks himself to have made. And now he’s unwilling to hurt you. But at the root of it, you’re a human. A vampyre slayer. And you’re going to tell me all the secrets you know.”
Cy sealed his lips shut. He couldn’t endanger his allies. So he would remain silent. His silence was the only thing that would protect them.
Sharp nails thrust forward, gripping his neck and digging in. “You’ll talk, Cypress. Or you’ll die.”
He wasn’t so easy to kill as that. Cy clenched his eyes tight as, with tremendous force, Thorne threw him back against the wall. His body slammed into the stone and cement, knocking the wind from his chest. Choking, Cy slid down the wall. Thorne darted forward and held him aloft. With a strength such a lean body should not have possessed, he dangled him only inches from the floor.
“I’m not afraid of pain,” Cy whispered. “There’s no scar you can give me that hasn’t already been opened.”
“Is that so?” If he were a lesser man, he might have been frightened by the maniacal look in Thorne’s eyes. “Let’s test that theory, shall we?”
Fangs tore into Cy’s throat without decorum, ripping into his flesh. He struggled against the arms that held him. Thorne’s strength was immense. Cy was no match for him. Not like this. Perhaps not ever.
Thorne took long drags from his neck, sucking and pulling and sucking and pulling. Cy’s knees went weak and his mind muddled with pleasure and pain. Shivers of lust shot through him even as his fingers itched for a stake, eyes darting around the room for anything he could break into a point and jam into the vampyre’s heart.
His vision began to blur. Was this how he would die?
Before the light faded completely, Thorne threw him backward so his body tumbled over the bed and then to the floor. As he landed, he scrambled to his feet, desperate to catch his breath. He searched for a weapon, anything he could use to defend himself.
No time. Thorne was on him again, forcing both hands behind his back, bending him forward over the bed. The vulnerability made him cringe. He’d been in this situation before.
He’s not Thorne’s type.Surely he wouldn’t…
“I know what you are, what you think you’re capable of. But here, in my chambers and under my command, you’re powerless, vampyre slayer. I can do whatever I want to you. Break you down. Tear you apart. Nothing is stopping me.”
