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There was no sound from Marisol, but her horrified eyes communicated everything as her body glided into the blazing flames. My blood pressure probably rose to the ceiling, but I didn’t even care. I was in my villain era.

The heavy door of the chamber sealed automatically. A small, glazed window allowed us to observe what happened next, and I was there for it. I didn’t look away, and neither did my future vampire king fiancé. We stood shoulder to shoulder as the chamber ignited even more. The flames grew in height and shone brighter in color.

The flames attached to Marisol’s frame completely. Through the reinforced glass, we watched as fire consumed her naked body. The fire burned a bluish white in color.

“This chamber is far hotter than a standard crematorium. It’s designed specifically to destroy vampire tissue completely.” Zand elaborated on what he told me earlier.

“How long does it take?” My voice was steady despite the inferno I was witnessing.

“Twenty minutes for complete incineration.” He replied. “Another ten to fifteen for cooling. Virgil will collect the ashes afterward.”

We stood in silence, watching the fire do its work. Zand’s hand found mine. Our fingers twined together as Marisol’s body blackened and disintegrated. There’s something intimate about watching death together in this way. It was a bond formed in the deliberate extinction of another.

When the flames finally died down. I felt a surge of absolute. My face had shifted again, revealing a half tranquil satisfaction. My glass was half full, and I needed it to be filled to the brim.

“Now that’s one less bitch I have to worry about.” I said, cause she ain’t no diva. My voice carried none of the horror or regret one might have expected as a human witnessing such destruction.

Zand raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed by my composure. “You’re taking this remarkably well.”

Maybe he didn’t know it, but I was that girl. I was the Blackbird that took my broken wing and learned to fly.

“Did you expect me to cry for the bitch who tried to kill me? For the sister of the man who murdered Morgan’s boyfriend and terrorized us?” I shook my head. “No, Zand. I’ve learned that some people don’t deserve my tears.”

My fingers tightened around his as he looked back at the cooling chamber. “Teresa has to die next.” I calmly stated withthe utmost certainty. “For what she did to Morgan and what she did to you. I want to be there to see it happen.”

Zand studied my face is if he was seeing me for the first time. Maybe it was the same look I gave him when he turned into a vampire before my eyes and ripped Lonzo to pieces. I knew right at that moment I was no longer a pediatric nurse. I was a burgeoning vampire queen.

“For you, my love, Teresa will be next.” He agreed, unable to keep the satisfaction from his voice and the crooked smiled off his lips. He bent to kiss me roughly and possessively. The kiss felt like someone sent sparks of passion to my pussy.

“I never imagined my engagement would happen in a crematorium.” I jokingly said. Wondering if I would ever be able to share this story with someone other than Morgan. Probably not.

“Would you prefer somewhere more conventional? I can arrange an additional proposal anywhere it pleases you. A white sand beach, the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, the Grand Canyon, a White Sox game?” He offered, and I realized he wasn’t joking. Zand could make it happen and would if I requested a grand gesture.

I shook my head no, lifting my hand to admire how my ring caught the light. “No. This is perfect. This is us.” I gazed up at him.

“This is us.” He repeated, pulling me against his firm body. “From now on, we rule together.”

Our lips met in another kiss that tasted like power. Teresa’s days were numbered. Chicago’s vampire world was about to discover what happens when the right queen took her place beside the King. My brain chemistry was different now. I was different. I wasn’t the scared little nurse that was afraid to testify against a monster. I wasn’t the single Black female that had to run away to another state to get away from her past. Now, I wasstrong, and I was fearless, and I owed it all to Zand. He loved and ignited something in me that made me want to fight.

Things were different now and although I had an army of vampires that would fight to protect me, I wanted to learn to protect myself. Like Malcolm Little said, by any means necessary.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHANEL

The VIP room at The Castle felt like a sanctuary tonight. The plush velvet curtains were drawn closed. We wanted to conceal ourselves from the partygoers below us at the club. Me and Morgan were here to celebrate my new engagement. I was just happy Zand let me come out of the house when I was still in danger. I was so happy with my engagement, and there was no way I would let Teresa steal my joy by having me hiding at the loft.

Inside the VIP room, the dim lighting created shadows that danced across Morgan’s newly paler skin. My bestie was out here looking like a fair maiden. She wasn’t too happy with the slight change in her skin tone. She had purchased three bottles of spray tan that she hadn’t tried out yet. Morgan was so funny. She was going to always make sure people knew she was Black or biracial. She was going to go out of her way to make sure the world didn’t think she was a whole ass Caucasian person and all I could do was laugh. Being a vampire didn’t erase her Blackness, and honestly, she was a vampire now. I didn’t think her race, color, or creed even mattered anymore. Zand toldme vampires didn’t have racism, colorism or discrimination. I wanted to believe him. But seeing that he was White, would he even know if Black vampires were being discriminated against?

I twisted my engagement ring around my finger. My black diamond was something I couldn’t stop looking at. I watched my best friend lift a crystal glass filled with crimson liquid to her lips. Her movements were more graceful than they had ever been, yet somehow uncertain, as if she was still learning the language of her own body.

My plate of roasted chicken and vegetables sat half-eaten before me. The rich chicken aroma mingling with the metallic scent coming from Morgan’s glass. I was picking at my food for the past twenty minutes. I was more interested in observing the subtle changes in my friend than in satisfying my hunger.

Morgan noticed my stare and quickly lowered her glass. A grimace flashed across her face. “I’m sorry.” She apologized while wiping her lips, even though there was nothing there to wipe. “I should’ve waited until you were done eating.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” I told her, spearing a piece of baby carrot with my fork. “Girl, Zand drinks blood in front of me all the time.” The words came easily now, as if discussing blood consumption was the most natural thing in the world. Perhaps for me, it had become just that.

Morgan placed her glass down on the polished mahogany table. Her movement was too fast, too forceful. The crystal made a sharp ping against the wood, and she winced at the sound.