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“Please,” Cy whispered, seeking whatever goodwill there might have been between them. “That’s all I know. Let Wren go now. Please.”
Thorne smirked. “What’s this? A slayer pleading to a vampyre? Who have you become during your time in captivity? Has my Haven changed you that much?”
Cy grimaced. He didn’t want to talk about Haven. Didn’t want to think about him. Likely, Cy’s life would end soon. He didn’t want to consider what he would be losing. What might have been...but then, no. It would never have been. There was too much of a divide between them. Haven would always be out of reach.
“No matter,” Thorne purred. “Once I deliver their traitors on a silver platter, any plans the council has set against me will be foiled. I’ll be untouchable. And my sire will have no choice but to praise me. To love me as he once did.”
Thorne looked to Merick with a smile. “Tell my sire and Lord Reyber Tepes that I demand a meeting of the Council. Tell them I have proof of the traitors in our midst. And I’ll now clear myself of suspicion once and for all. Oh, and do take the little one back to his sire, won’t you? We wouldn’t want Lord Garrison to worry for his precious pet.”
Merick stood and sheathed his blade, pulling Wren along as he slammed the door shut behind him. Alone again, Thorne moved forward to stroke the fresh piercings in Cy’s nipples. The pain burned through Cy as he struggled in vain to get away.
In a swift movement, barely indecipherable, Thorne’s talon-like hand came down to snatch the ring in Cy’s right nipple and tear it free. Blood poured down Cy’s chest as he cried out and felt his vision muddying. He swayed where he was bound. The last thing he saw before he submitted to unconsciousness was Thorne’s cruelly smiling face.
“That’s a good pet.”
CHApTER EigHTEEn
Haven
Shrouded in thecold, bleak darkness, Haven huddled into himself. It had been years, so many years, since he’d been alone like this. The experience was reminiscent of the time before he’d been turned. A time when he’d been a captive, terrified, weak. A time when the Veritas had ruled his life. They’d made him a slave more than the vampyres had. Thorne had saved him.
But Gaius’s words rang in his head. Could it be true that Thorne had indeed orchestrated the entire exchange? That his imprisonment had inevitably been because of Thorne’s desire for his blood? Haven didn’t want to believe it. But in the end, he could see the likelihood of it being reality. Thorne had always loved his blood.
A creaking of metal on metal sounded in the darkness, and Haven sat up to see two armed guards approaching. Without speaking to him, they unlatched his cell door and jerked him to his feet.
“What’s going on?”
They ignored him, pulling him from the depths of his cell. Something was happening. Was it his trial? Already? Hadn’t it only been a few hours? Or longer? Was he losing his sense of time and his mind as well?
The guards led him up the stone steps of the dungeon and into the winding hallway that led to the ballroom. He didn’t struggle. What would have been the point? One way or the other, he would meet his fate.
The sight that awaited stunned him. He blinked, gazing around the wide stretch of the cavernous ballroom to see an assemblage of all the members of the Dominion and the Bathory household seated in a circle, with Gaius and Reyber in the middle. Thorne was settled in front, smiling a crooked, secretive smile that set Haven’s nerves on edge. His stomach clenched as he was tugged into view and Thorne’s eyes fell on him.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Thorne snapped, looking from Haven’s chains to Gaius’s stretched grimace.
“Haven was uncooperative,” Reyber interjected, stepping in front of Gaius.
“Surely, the chains are no longer necessary,” Thorne remarked. “Given the circumstances.”
“Circumstances?” Haven couldn’t stop himself.
“We’ve identified the traitors in our midst. The Veritas was indeed in our presence all along.” Thorne smirked. He wasn’t in chains. He’d found a way out after all. “Release my progeny, and I’ll reveal the information I know.”
Reyber frowned before nodding to the guards who held Haven’s shackle in their hands. As they released his wrists, Haven scanned the room.
“Bring out my prisoner.”
From the corner of his eye, Haven sensed movement. A body stumbling forward, barely able to stay on its feet. Immediately, the stench of fresh blood filled his nostrils. Human, then. He swallowed, knowing whose face was hidden behind that bloody mop of curls but praying he was wrong.
Cypress was thrown to his knees at Gaius’s feet. And while the crowd of vampyres muttered and hissed among themselves, Thorne rose to stand beside Cypress’s battered body. “My friends. I give you my vampyre slayer pet. He’s been contacted by the traitors in our midst and instructed to act in accordance with their evil plans.”
He bent to grasp hold of Cypress’s dark curls and lifted his face to the crowd. Haven shuddered to see his split lip and the bruises that marred his cheeks. Bloody streaks seeped down his chest from a torn nipple. Haven wanted to reach out to him, to protect him. But he didn’t dare move from his spot.
“Right under our noses, he’s been used as a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Reporting back to the vampyres who serve and fund the Veritas and the so-called ‘Human Rights’ movement. They’re traitors to their own kind, seated in their position of power, reaping the benefits of both sides under the guise of goodwill and stewardship. It’s all a lie.”
Haven swallowed, his heart racing. He felt unsteady on his feet. Would he faint? He wanted something to grasp onto for support, but there was nothing. Only eager faces and bated breath.
“Fancy words,” Reyber’s voice cut over the crowd. “But what proof do you have?”
