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Compassion isn’t a weakness. From everything I’ve just seen and heard, compassion is strength. Love is power. But I won’t be gifted with these traits by allowing my soul to connect with another’s. No, I’ll use force and intimidation to gain respect among my pack. I’ll rule with the same brutality as Conall has and hope it brings me the same sense of fulfillment.
Permitting myself entry to Conall’s cabin, I lounge on his plush sofa as the sun streams through large bay windows facing west. This is by far the biggest and most luxurious cabin in our camp. For my first few years here, I resided in the shed out back, which had been converted into a miniature bedroom for me. Of course, the best part of the run-down shack was when I would fall asleep listening to sweet lullabies Orianna would sing to Aspen every night as they drifted down to me on the wind through loose, rattling windows.
Shuffling on the stairs behind me draws my attention to the half-dressed, plump female shifter trotting down the final few steps and out of the front door without glancing at me. Conall strides down not long after, only wearing a pair of dark jeans, the fly and button wide open as dull blue eyes settle on me with a smile.
“Do you mind?” I ask, gesturing to his pubic area with a wave of my hand. Glancing down, Conall chuckles and sits in the matching armchair opposite me, making no move to cover the abundance of hair on full show.
“Why so glum, Kofu? I hope you’re bringing me good news. Did everything go as planned?” Conall throws his large arms over the edge of the armchair, his tongue sucking on his teeth. I must say, he played his role well, but not as efficiently as I did. Although I won’t receive any of the credit when he gets the revenge he’s been seeking. I sit forward in the seat and press my elbows into my knees, maintaining his gaze.
“Well, Aspen died,” I state, keen to see his initial reaction. His smirk falls slowly and Conall glances into the top corner of the room, but in no way does he look affected by the news.
“That does complicate things, I guess. We will have to find another way to gain access to the castle, maybe during her funeral.” Conall looks back to me and shrugs nonchalantly.
“That won’t be necessary. She came back to life, but her wolf has gone. Now, only the vampire remains,” I sigh. To lose a wolf in any capacity is a travesty. So, the fact Conall looks relieved, bothers the shit out of me.
“Ahh well, we’re back on track then. Just one loose end left to tie up.” Conall clasps his hands together. Kicking my ankles, he urges me to get up and follow him to the locked door beneath the staircase. Begrudgingly stomping down the basement steps, the single bulb swings, shifting the light around the large room in a circular motion. Shelving units line each wall, a range of weapons on display like a museum. All of them silver.
“I’m presuming everything went well?” Carrick steps forward from a crate he was perched on as if he wasn’t privy to our conversation upstairs. Conall puffs out his chest, clasping Carrick’s hand.
“It went perfectly,” Conall replies. Carrick is no stranger to our shifter pack after a group of scouts found him on our land years ago. I thought Carrick would kill him there and then, but the alpha is nothing if not calculated. Playing a long game is his specialty. He’s told me time and time again that Aspen,the wretched little reject, would be of use one day. The first lesson he taught me was that acting rashly only ruins potential opportunities. And what an opportunity Aspen has been for him.
A thirteenth birthday that falls on a full moon often leads to our most powerful shifters and their wolf awakening within the same night of a first shift is a great honor. It’s how Conall’s and my own were called, pinning us at potential alphas, and as such, we immediately become the strongest within the pack. Conall took his power and claimed whatever he liked, including Orianna, the timid, kind woman he only truly wanted upon discovering her affair. If there’s one thing Conall can’t resist, it’s a free spirit to be tamed. Yeah, he knew all along. That’s just how devious he can be.
“I upheld my side of the bargain, don’t forget to come through on yours. I left her exactly where you told me to, the vamps would have found her instantly,” Carrick folds his arms.
“She moved,” I drawl, bored with his presence.
“Of course she did,” Carrick smiles. I wasn’t surprised when he came groveling after his own plan to take the throne was fucked. I could have saved him the time because Aspen would never have gone for a male so like Conall in terms of power-hungry intent, but where’s the fun in that?
“You have my word,” Conall widens his stance, ignoring our bickering. “You’ve got me an in with Lorcan, and I didn’t have to lift a finger. I’ll ensure you get everything you deserve.” Smug with himself, Carrick returns to his crate while I pace the room behind me, unable to stand still. “Everything you deserve,” Conall repeats with the slightest nod. On cue, I thrust forward, bursting Carrick’s beating heart through his chest cavity. His body drops lifelessly onto my arm, protruding from his sternum. His blood splatters Conall’s face and body, the warm liquid dripping from his chest like war paint. Retracting my arm, the graying body hits the floor like a sack of shit, and I exhale harshly, juggling the heart from hand to hand.
“Never gets old,” I groan, a slither of delight rolling down my spine. Ascending to the main cabin floor, my heart beats in time with the one in my palm. When the sweet retribution of death is all that evokes any feeling within my being, I can’t deny myself the base need. After all, I’m a carbon copy of Conall, molded into his image. One more cheating vampire is dead, opening the pathway for more.
Chuckling, I toss the pulsing organ into the fireplace. Roaring flames attack the new kindling, causing it to combust and send sparks of light shooting in all directions. The rapidly decomposing organ's rancid smell fills the air—my favorite scent. A hand slaps me hard on the back, the clearest form of praise Conall will ever give.
“You did well today, kid. Carrick served his purpose, but I wasn’t about to put that nutcase on our rival’s throne. We’re not killing Lorcan just to replace him.”
“Who will take the vampire crown?” I ask absentmindedly. My mind turns to Aspen’s mates. None of them will go down easily, and the thought of destroying them doesn’t sit well with me or fill me with as much satisfaction as it should. As it did before I met them.
“Why, you, of course,” Conall laughs.
Patting me a few more times, the only father I’ve known leaves me to my thoughts, and a moment later, the shower on the level above roars to life. I look at my own hand coated in blood. Whatever quick thrill I felt is gone. Back comes the numbness, detaching me from the world. I drop back onto the sofa and remain there until nightfall. Wasting time, waiting for whatever will return the rush of adrenaline. Conall may have big plans to join the vampire and shifters by any means necessary and breed a mass of hybrids. To create an empire on which he comfortably sits at the top. I just hope that somewhere along the way, I find the fucks to care.
Chapter31
Jaxon
The gentle sound of woodwind instruments fills the air as the double doors of our ballroom glide open in perfect unison. The guards on either side fall to one knee at the same time every other vampire in attendance copies—all except myself, Torsten, Chase, and Sawyer, who stand at the altar’s top. We’re not missing this moment for anything.
The past few weeks have been chaos, decorating the ballroom for tonight’s ceremony. Nothing was too much, no amount of preparation sufficing. Ivory silk has been draped from each chandelier to meet the edges of the ceiling. The speckled marble floor waxed, and the doorknobs polished. Standing vases hold bouquets of lilies from the botanical gardens, filling the space with a strong, perfumed scent. The crescent moon shines from floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the room in blue and yellow hues.
A floral archway has been erected before the podium, vines twisting around the invisible frame to hold flowers of every color. Beside Lorcan's throne, a newly made one stands proud, complete with mauve velvet cushioning. Exquisite detailing has been chiseled into the wood, creating an image of a forest within the back piece. An abundance of wooden flowers fills the bottom of the space before tree trunks burst out of the foliage and stretch upwards to the rounded moon, which protrudes from the top. Peeking out from the most central trunk is the head of a wolf.
Movement from the open doorway captures my full attention, and my jaw drops to the floor. Aspen steps into view, her shoulders pushed back with confidence. She’s magnificent—the true making of a real queen. A floor-length, figure-hugging dress hangs from her gorgeous curves. The material is black lace, circling her slender neck and covering her entire front, with hints of open panels at her waist. I would bet anything that the garment is backless and hangs deliciously low.
As she moves, the dress sways and sparkles in the moonlight. Silver waves across one shoulder sway with each step, her make-up glowing and flawless with a matt black lipstick. Her own blend of punk royalty.
“So beautiful,” Torsten breathes.
