Page 1 of A Vow of Shadow and Blood

Not even the music can hide the newblood’s scream as Vincent sinks his fangs deep into his wrist.

The boy’s eyes find mine in a silent plea, but I force myself to look away. My fingers tighten around the cloth in my hand as I shove aside the leather-clad chairs circling the table I’m supposed to clean. I slam the fabric against the dark wooden surface, scrubbing with such force that my knuckles ache.

“You know the bastard goes out of his way to make his feedings hurt,” Tori says as she moves to stand beside me. “I think he gets off on it.”

“He does.” My eyes narrow on the creature sitting across the dimly lit room. “Andyouknow that the more blood he consumes, the better he can hear you.”

My best friend flicks the long locks of her shiny blond hair over her shoulder and shrugs off my warning. “His focus is elsewhere. He has no interest in me.”

I move to the next empty table and pick up a lipstick-stained glass before wiping away the sticky substance beneath it, but I cannot tear my attention away from the table of vamps. Their black eyes are wide and glazed, a clear sign that their blood high has taken over whatever rational thoughts remained.

Vincent, the spoiled heir to House Vancova and, unfortunately, a frequent patron of our bloodhouse, grabs the newblood tighter, a grin splitting his dark brown features as the boy cries out.

Pain pulses through my fingers as I grip the glass. It’s the only thing keeping me from storming over and pulling him to safety. Well, that and the red-eyed figures standing guard around the room, shadow blades strapped to their belts, a constant reminder of what they’re capable of if anyone steps out of line. Suddenly, the steel dagger hidden beneath my dress feels far less lethal, though I still feel better having it.

“I don’t like that expression.” Tori’s voice breaks me out of my spell, but my eyes remain on the vamps. “It’s telling me you’re about to do something stupid. Just remember, eyes are on us.”

The reminder shifts my attention to the stool-lined bar where Amabel stands, glaring at me, her palms pressed against the smooth wooden counter. Behind her hangs a row of obnoxiously large mirrors framed in intricately woven bronze patterns. Amabel thinks it gives the illusion that the bloodhouse is larger than it actually is. Maybe so, but the seats remain empty. Something else keeps the patrons away.

The ivory skin around her stark brown eyes tightens as they lock on mine—a silent warning:do not get involved.But all I can see is the reflection behind her of an innocent human beingused like a toy.Again.Uncontrollable anger heats my blood, and I fight to gain control. I need to calm down.

I move away from Tori, slipping behind one of the thick stone pillars dotting the room, right out of sight of Amabel. I keep up the ruse of cleaning the tables, but my eyes keep shifting to Vincent and the newblood. Not that I can do anything.

Actually, you can.Athriel’s serpentine voice fills my mind, and the glass I’m holding almost falls to the ground.

Gods, you need to come with a warning.

Laughter rumbles within the walls of my mind, and my eyes flit around the large room as if someone else might hear it, but as always, they don’t. Only I hear the voice inside my head.

Where’s the fun in that?

I ignore his words as I watch Vincent tear his mouth away from the boy’s wrist before sweeping his tongue across his blood-soaked lips.

Come on, newblood, stop looking so scared—your fear is only making things worse.

You know I’m the only one who can hear you inside here?Athriel says.

I know. I’m just hoping he somehow gets the message.

Athriel scoffs.

When will you learn that you cannot save them all, Adina?

I hate the fact that he’s right. Humans will always be at risk of dying so long as we are slaves to vampires.

A deep, taunting voice sweeps through the air, stealing my attention yet again.

“I thought Blackwood Bloodhouse provided the best purebloods. Don’t tell me you can’t handle a little bloodletting now, pretty one?”

Vincent leans back expectantly, his tall frame sinking into the chair as the hovering orb of starlight bathes the sharp edges of his face in a warm glow.

“It’s my first day,” the boy says, and I curse. The other two vamps exchange amused looks from across the table as Vincent cocks his head to the side, his black eyes calculating.

“First day?” He pins the boy with a heated stare, making my skin crawl. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Jace.”

“And how old are you,Jace?” He drags out his name as though he is tasting every letter.