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CHAPTER ONE
ALARIC
Lavender eyes framedby snowy lashes watch me expectantly. The growing adoration welling within my chest drowns out the last of an unwelcome feeling from moments ago.
In a blink, it is forgotten altogether. And along with it, the reason and cause that it sprouted from.
It must have been nothing of consequence to be banished so easily.
A hint of blood lingers on my tongue from a recent feeding, but the burn of hunger denied for far too long remains. It is harsh. Demanding. Unyielding.
The taste is…off, somehow, though I cannot pinpoint how. Was the mortal’s blood tainted by illness ravaging their body, or had they ingested poison, thinking it would end my life along with theirs? It’s impossible to know without a body anywhere in sight.
Buzzing swarms inside my head, loud and unintelligible, turning into a pounding ache. Poison is the most logical conclusion.
Though that, too, hardly matters. Other than a mild irritation, it didn’t work.
It doesn’t matter.
Our queen is here.
The thought intrudes over all others.
“Alaric?”
Every moment leading up to this one are lost in a fog. The name settles on my bones, fitting like a well-worn glove. Instinctively, I know that is who I am.
“Was there something you wish to tell me?” My queen arches a sharp brow.
Yes.
“Yes,” I echo the thought out loud. Then I pause, unsure what words should follow.
We stand in the receiving room of my personal quarters. She would not be here if I hadn’t summoned her for an important matter.
My hesitation brings the answer forward.It is time. We will do as she has always wanted. We will finally take our place at her side.
“It is time. I am ready to take my place as your consort, as you have always wanted.” Each word scrapes up my parched and raw throat. An unsatiable need to feed again.
A shift lingers in the air. Large enough to shake the world, yet ambiguous, leaving no clear sign of what it was beyond a haze of unfamiliarity, settling like dust in a room, long forgotten.
Satisfaction curls the edges of my queen’s mouth. She is pleased. As any vampire ought to be, I am her loyal subject. After all, she is the force that shaped the world.
Why had I not complied with her wishes before now?Surely, Rosalie—
Perched on the mantel, Kharis croaks and beats their wings against the air.
The past is of no consequence. We will right wrongs and not dwell on what cannot be changed.
The demon’s eyes blaze bright red.
Searing pain lances through my skull like molten silver. Need and instinct demanding my full attention. I try to speak, but the only sound that forms is a furious hiss.
Large eyes widen in alarm. “You must be starving, my love.” She lifts a hand and snaps her fingers once.
I don’t have time to muse on how she knew. The door opens, and two guards enter, half escorting and half dragging a human woman between them.
The mortal’s face is blank, and each movement she makes has the jerky cadence of a sleepwalker. Her hair is styled similar to that of a courtier—not a strand out of place. It is the dress that gives her purpose away. Every inch is the color of sea foam, save for the low neckline. The fabric shimmers, nearly black at the top, melting into a rich burgundy halfway down the bodice to give it the appearance of spilled blood.
