Page 2 of A Vow of Shadow and Blood

The boy clears his throat, and I find myself leaning forward.

“I’m eighteen, sir—”

“Sir,”a vampire named Gabriel mocks, exchanging a mischievous glance with Vincent. I don’t know him well, only that he’s from House Astrella, wielders of shadow poison. Still, belonging to one of the twelve noble houses is enough to make him believe he’s entitled to anything. And I hate that he’s right.

Vincent clicks his tongue in reprimand before his eyes fall on Jace once again.

“Excuse my friend’s lack of manners,Jace, please do continue.”

Jace shifts nervously on his feet, one of the first things we’re taught not to do in training. This kid has a death wish.

Never show weakness and never give them a reason to remember you’re their prey. Give them an experience worth keeping you alive for.

Amabel’s words swirl through my mind. I may dislike the woman, but no other human knows how to handle vampires the way she does. She didn’t become the Head of Blackwood Bloodhouse by chance.

“I received my license yesterday.”

“Why the fuck would he tell them that?” Tori says, appearing beside me again, or perhaps she’d been there all along. She sweeps a cloth over the empty table, though her eyes, like mine, stay fixed on the scene ahead.

The third vampire at the table lets out a low whistle, his brow creasing in amusement. I don’t recognize him.

“You've got a real fresh one there, Vince,” he says.

His words earn him a chorus of laughter from the other two.

Vincent drags a finger lazily over the black crest marking Jace’s wrist before tugging him with such force that he stumbles. The boy’s eyes flare with fear as Vincent’s own darken, filled with a hunger that craves more than blood. My stomach churns as the surrounding vampires bare their fangs at the mere sight of the act. The bastards are getting turned on by his fear.

“Shit, he’s going to drain him,” Tori whispers the words I’m already thinking, and the confirmation causes a pounding sensation to grow within my temples. The blood in my veins starts to lose control, swirling and heating as I try to keep a tight grip on my emotions. It wants out. It wants to kil—

No,I hiss inside my head.

I hear an amused sigh followed by a chuckle.You never let me have any fun.

My idea of fun is vastly different from yours.

So, you don’t enjoy killing vampires, then?Athriel’s sing-song voice teases. An image from several weeks ago causes me to take a second too long to answer, and I know he sees the memory too.Just as I thought.

No, I don’t enjoy it; I do what I have to.

Such a lying tongue my sweet little Adina possesses.

I’m not lying.

Another annoying laugh.

You know, this reminds me of all those weeks you spent pretending you couldn’t hear me. Such a stubborn child you were. Not much has changed.

I will never forget the first night I heard him speak. I thought I was going crazy. It turns out my twisted gift has a voice.

“That kid isn’t going to last the night.” Tori’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

I straighten my back and lock my eyes on Vincent Vancova. “Yes, he is.”

Without looking, I hand Tori the glass in my grip and make a beeline for the table of vampires. In the background, I hear Tori’s desperate pleas for me not to intervene, but I shut them out. If I listen, I might falter—and leave the boy defenseless. It’s not my problem. I shouldn’t care, but the fear in his eyes is all too familiar.

The number one rule of working the bloodhouse is that we never interfere with another pureblood’s tables. We service our own patrons and forfeit all involvement in the others surrounding us, but something inside me pushes me forward. Part of me wonders whether the emotions are my own or Athriel’s.

Oh, this is all you, my dear.