Page 65

I floated through the gardens of Duskfell.

I let my hand drift through a bush of soft blossoms, knuckles skimming their fragile petals. The sensation danced across my skin. Everything felt too vivid, too raw. My whole body buzzed with overstimulation, every nerve humming from memory.

The steady pulse between my legs was the strongest sensation of them all. I had awoken to an empty bed, my body thrumming in every place Luc and Jules had touched. And they had touched everywhere , following through on their promise to fuck me into blissful unconsciousness.

Between all the boulders and consecrating the kings’ bed in Duskfell, my cunt had taken a beating.

But who knew getting fucked could save lives?

I shook the thought away. It was better not to think. Because once I started thinking about the witches I’d saved, I’d start thinking about why they needed saving.

About Morrena, her face torn off, her corpse savaged by wraiths.

About Maire, blood leaking from her chin, her body left hanging on Dawnspear’s walls.

About Eral and Ilenia and Estrella and Tristan and Riona and Edda and éamon and Fergus.

I dug my fingers into my palms until I felt the crescent bite of my nails. No. It was better to not think . I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t save anyone. I couldn’t do anything. So what was the point?

So I didn’t think. I just felt.

I leaned into the lingering tingle in my skin, the afterglow that had been simmering since Luc pointed out the first boulder outside Montaurère. I leaned into the soulbond, sated and still within me. It would’ve been happier if we were with the kings. But we weren’t running. We weren’t resisting. We hadn’t pushed them away when they touched us.

We hadn’t fought the connection it tried to form.

Not entirely, anyway.

Every day that passed, every time we fucked, the elation lasted a little less.

Because the soulbond didn’t just want pleasure.

We weren’t companions. Karra had tried to sate her bond with Azaras through sex, but that hadn’t lasted. Their emotions lingered now, a constant hum beneath my thoughts. Their physical sensations bled slowly into mine. But the bond had stalled compared to those first few days, slowed by every betrayal between us.

It wanted more.

It craved love. It craved surrender. It craved union.

Karra had started to fall for the Beast King as they slipped closer to what the Azarasians now called beloveds. And then she loved him completely when they settled as heartmates. I hadn’t read Volume II, but everyone knew how their story ended.

My breathing quickened. My chest rose and fell in sharp huffs as panic crept in, seeping through me and into them . Their curiosity stirred across the bond before I shoved it all down.

I closed my eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out. That was a problem for the future. The future didn’t matter.

The past didn’t matter either.

All that mattered was the sun on my skin, the petals against my hand, and the low pulse between my legs.

I slowly blew out another breath, then continued through the garden. Isabeau said nothing at my back, nor did the two other Imperial Guard. Roxiana had been summoned away earlier, her Crown Chancellor duties pulling her elsewhere. Apparently not all of the courtiers were thrilled with the sudden move back to the Capital of Dusk for the summer season. If the end of spring felt like this, I couldn’t blame them.

I approached the edge of the hanging garden’s tier. This one belonged to the kings—their private space—but the tiers below were open to courtiers. I leaned against the bannister and looked out over the greenery and the city beyond.

A few luminous eyes flickered up toward me… but the Azarasians quickly looked away.

The kings hadn’t revealed I was their soulbound yet, but the courtiers closest to them knew something had changed. They’d seen the way the kings spoke to me at the revelry, the trial, and the funeral. How they glared and snarled at anyone who so much as looked in my direction.

Soon, they’d all know. But that didn’t matter either.

“Your Majesty?”

I twisted with a frown. Neither of the kings was near. I knew that without needing to look. But Roxiana had returned. She stood beside Isabeau, her expression unreadable. “Their Majesties request your presence.”

Their Majesties?

Ah, right. The Azarasians only used the Imperium title to refer to the rulers as a whole. If I was one-third of their soul, then we only became the Imperium when we were addressed together.

I nodded and started forward. Roxiana and Isabeau led the way back through the hanging gardens, through twisting olive trees and rows of crimson carnations, past mosaic-lined fountains and statues draped in flowering vines. The two beloveds spoke in hushed tones once or twice, but otherwise, the only sounds were the chirp of cicadas and the soft graze of ocean wind.

When we reached the palace’s base, a set of black stairs led to a terrace connecting to the kings’ Imperial Apartment. Roxiana and Isabeau stood aside at the bottom and gestured for me to go first.

Like I was the Queen of Dusk and Dawn.

Not just the Mortal Bride.

Not just the kings’ thrall.

I didn’t read into it. They weren’t showing me respect. They were showing it to the parts of my soul that now belonged to Luc and Jules.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I looked out over the terrace. A circular pool of water, large enough for just a few people, rose from the stone at the far corner, three steps leading up to its rim. There were multiple seating areas—a cozy nook to my right with chairs clustered around a firepit and a shaded daybed draped in gauzy fabric at the terrace’s far side. Between me and the daybed, an expansive stone table stretched beneath the open sky, surrounded by ten chairs.

Luc sat at the head of the table, with Jules beside him on the right. Across from them, two seats down, a dark-haired vampire in elaborate ruby skirts sat with her hands folded neatly on the table. Her golden eyes watched me closely. I couldn’t remember her name, but I had definitely seen her before.

Luc gestured to the seat to his left. “Sit, bride.”

A tiny part of me bristled at the command. But I ignored it, closed the distance between us, and settled into the chair. The bond hummed warmly in my chest at being reunited with the other two pieces of our soul. Luc watched me impassively, Jules with a small smile. They were the Conqueror and the Butcher right now. Whoever this vampire woman was, she wasn’t in their inner circle.

But underneath, they burned with intrigue… and a hint of lust. Heat rose to my cheeks, tainting them with a light blush. Luc’s hands on my hips as he pounded into me. Jules’s mouth on my lips, my neck, my collarbone as he railed me into Luc’s body. Their cocks marking me, branding me, claiming me.

The corner of Luc’s lips twitched, the memories floating through my head clear enough to discern through our bond. “You didn’t meet at the Red Queen revelry, but you might remember Lady Renée.”

I twisted toward the vampire woman. So that was where I knew her from. She had brought Jules’s gift to the courts, humans and witches bred as delicacies. My stomach turned.

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter.

Lady Renée’s dark brows rose as I stared directly at her, but she didn’t say anything. It wasn’t her place to discipline the Mortal Bride.

When I didn’t reply, Luc continued unbothered. “She’s one of our leading geneticists. For the last century, she’s been cataloging vampire and witch bloodlines.”

I glanced back at Luc, at Jules. I didn’t get where this was going. “And?”

“And you’re a witch of unknown origins,” Jules said. “If your mother won’t tell us where you came from or how she crossed paths with Allegra, then we need to figure that out ourselves.”

I nodded. That made sense. I should’ve felt something, a twist of fear or hope, but I couldn’t let the question plague me. Who was I, really? It didn’t matter. Not now.

I looked at Lady Renée. “Do you need my blood?”

Her rapid blinking was the only sign of her surprise that I’d spoken. “I do, yes.”

A flicker of annoyance pulsed through the bond from Luc, but I ignored it. She hadn’t called me by a title, but she didn’t know I had one. To her, the greatest mystery was how the human Mortal Bride was actually a witch. The kings hadn’t removed the glamour they’d cast on me before the trial two weeks ago, so it must’ve come as a shock.

I raised my hand. I didn’t know if I’d like the answer, but I needed to know. My entire past was a lie. Whatever the truth was, it wouldn’t stay hidden forever. I might as well face it. It wouldn’t change my situation anyway.

Lady Renée reached forward.

Luc growled.

The vampire woman froze, then dropped her hand and bowed her head. “My apologies, Imperium.”

In a blink, Jules stood at my side, between my chair and Luc’s. He placed a hand on the King of Dusk’s shoulder and gave a calming squeeze. “Forgive my soulbound, Lady Renée. He’s rather protective of our bride, especially after someone tried to kill her.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. I shouldn’t have tried to take your Mortal Bride’s blood without permission.”

Jules extended his hand toward me, palm up. “Your hand, lovely?”

Fingers snapping—

My whole body twitched, but I crushed the thought before it could form. Not fast enough. Regret rippled through the bond from Jules as I placed my hand in his. He didn’t feel it for anyone else, only for torturing me.

Shadows curled around his thumb, sharpening his nail into a claw. He pressed it to my skin. Blood welled to the surface from the small cut. I didn’t even feel it through the soothing rune he’d reapplied just hours ago.

Jules lifted the droplets from my skin, the blood rising in a stream that floated into the air. Behind me, Lady Renée pulled a vial from within her skirts. A rune was carved into its surface. Preserve . She removed the stopper, and Jules guided my blood into the bottle.

He leaned in, holding my gaze. My breath caught, unsure if I wanted to pull away or pull him closer. Then he flicked his tongue across the cut. The same way his tongue had slid over my nipples, around my aching clit, that gold piercing making her scream. Fuck, this bond made me obsessed. I just needed Renée to take her blood and go. Then I’d be on my knees, shoving up Nessa’s skirts, licking her until she came on my tongue and forgot every name but mine—

I pulled back my healed hand, jerking out of Jules’s head. The King of Dawn only winked at me.

I cleared my throat and turned back to Lady Renée. “What are you going to do with it?”

Lady Renée glanced at the kings.

Luc nodded. “Answer her.”

A little shiver went through me. Luc hadn’t called me his little curiosity since he discovered my connection to Allegra. I was only his little witch, his little bride. Affectionate, but distant.

I had been annoyed at the nickname before, but now, I would’ve given anything to hear it again. To pretend, even for a second, that I wasn’t a prisoner, soulbound to monsters.

“Some of the more prominent demon bloodlines can be identified merely by taste, if you’ve spent as much time as I have studying,” Lady Renée said. She pressed a finger to the vial’s lip and let a single drop of my blood fall onto her skin. “I’ll likely have to return to my lab to test it, but…”

She sucked her finger into her mouth. The moment my blood touched her tongue, her eyes widened.

Luc didn’t so much as blink, but tension spiked in him. “What?”

Lady Renée poured another drop onto her finger. She rolled it over her tongue like she was tasting wine, brow furrowing. “She’s a close descendant of Isaura.”

Alarm crackled through the bond, but it wasn’t just theirs. It was mine, too. My heartbeat stuttered. Isaura. The founder of the witch nation. Allegra and Morrena’s sire.

I was related to them . To the woman who created me and the woman who betrayed me, who I’d watched die.

I tried to pull the numbness back over me like a veil, but it wouldn’t settle. Not with that name ringing in my ears.

“How close?” Luc asked.

“Great-grandchild, perhaps?”

The kings met each other’s eyes. The shift in the air was immediate. The world felt too quiet. My pulse too loud. Something silent passed between them, but I caught a flicker of it. Suspicion. Fear. Building rage.

Then Luc gave a tight nod and turned back to the vampire woman. “How quickly can you fully analyze her blood, Lady Renée?”

“I can have it done in three days, Your Majesty.”

“Very well.” Luc gestured to Roxiana. “Escort Lady Renée to her carriage.”

Roxiana nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Lady Renée rose and bowed, then followed Roxiana across the terrace, disappearing through the doors into the Imperial Apartment.

Jules crossed his arms, leaning back against the edge of Luc’s chair. The bond buzzed at the back of my skull, a ringing I couldn’t ignore.

Something was wrong.

Being related to Allegra was horrifying enough. But this felt like more. Like something hiding in the dark, waiting for me to see it. Something I didn’t want to name.

Jules glanced down at Luc. “Are you going to say it, or should I?”

I frowned. Say what?

Luc said it.

“On behalf of Isaura and its High Council, I, Allegra, Exalted Daughter of Queen Isaura and Exalted Mother in her stead, surrender unconditionally to the Azarasian Impire. My country and our citizens are at their mercy.”

I froze. What the fuck ? Hearing her name coming from Luc’s mouth made my stomach twist. Why had Luc said that—

Power crashed through me. Through them. I flinched. It struck like lightning, centering on their forearms. Exactly where Morrena’s allegiance runespell had been carved. I hadn’t seen the kings’, but I suspected they had one there hidden by a glamour. It tied every Azarasian vampire and thrall to them.

And now… every witch.

I didn’t really understand what had happened, but whatever that power was, it meant Isaura had finally surrendered. Their allegiance runespells had transferred to the Impire.

But Luc wasn’t Allegra. He couldn’t be. So how had the surrender worked?

A hand settled around my throat.

Luc yanked me out of the seat. Not gently. Not seductively. Painfully. The pressure sliced through the soothing rune like it wasn’t even there. I choked as the air vanished. My hands clawed at his wrist. His eyes were black, so cold they burned. His rage thundered, drowning out every other sensation but fear.

I knew Lucero Azaras, the Conqueror. The King of Dusk. He’d held me. Protected me. Called me his bride. His little witch. His little curiosity, once.

And now he was choking me like I was nothing, Death in his eyes.

It was the way he stared at Exalted Morrena, a promise of pain and death.

It was the way he stared at his enemies.

Which, I guessed, I now was.

Because the only way Luc could surrender on behalf of Allegra… was if I was Allegra?

No. No, that wasn’t possible. That was the air deprivation talking. That was—

That was impossible .

Because if I was Allegra, then I had arranged our soulbond.

Then I had sent the witches to Duskfell to become wraiths.

Then I had killed Corinne.

Then all of this was my fault.

I might have laughed if I wasn’t dying.

Luc’s grip tightened. My eyes bulged as I struggled for breath. My vision began to swirl, edges graying, the bond shrieking with panic.

He was fucking killing me. And he didn’t care, his fury jagged and wild. He didn’t care if I killed her. Allegra Isaura. In my bed. In my soulbond. Hadn’t she already taken enough from me? And now she had to take the very essence of me and merged it with her.

I chuckled, a dark sound.

Of all the people in the world, it almost made sense that Allegra Isaura was the only one who could ever match our soul.

Jules gripped my shoulder. “You’re killing her, Luc.”

“I know.”

“You’re killing us.”

My expression cracked. “I know.”

“Please, darling,” Jules said softly, though there was nothing behind it. His emotions had gone quiet the moment Isaura’s surrender took hold. “I know you’ve dreamed of it, but you can’t kill her. You never can.”

My hand didn’t loosen—

I snapped back into my body as black spots swam at the edges of my vision. My lungs burned, each second without air worse than the last.

Jules shook him, hard. “Luc!”

He released me. I crumpled into the chair, coughing violently. Each gasp scraped my throat raw. My tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and uncontrolled.

A hand fisted in my hair and pulled me back up.

I saw the glint of blackening fangs—

Luc bit me.

Agony flashes through my bloodstream. I screamed, a shrill, high-pitched sound I barely recognized. I thought I had known pain. I had lived with pain daily. I’d had my fingers broken. I’d been stabbed.

But none of that compared to this.

This was worse. Deeper. Ruinous.

I wanted to die. Instantly. If I could’ve willed myself out of existence to escape this, I would have. With every pull of his throat, Luc devoured something vital, ripping not just blood, but the very core of me. It felt like he was clawing through me.

It made sense now why only the height of pleasure could mask this kind of torment. Why bliss was the only thing that could compete.

Luc finally pulled back, swiping his tongue roughly over the punctures. I crumpled into the seat, sobbing, my vision blurred with tears. The kings were only shapes now, wavering outlines at the edges of my sight, but I felt them more than I saw them. They had shared that pain, but it hadn’t shaken them. Luc’s fury still pounded through the bond. Jules remained empty, our connection hollow and echoing.

But even their emotions couldn’t drown the memory of that pain.

Luc gripped a fistful of my hair again and hauled me to my feet.

I whimpered. “Please—”

“Silence, Allegra.”

Luc dragged me across the terrace into the apartment and through the sitting room, past black stone walls and low, carved shelves of dark-stained wood. We approached a runegate embedded in the far wall. The daemium shimmered faintly beneath its surface, nearly indistinguishable from the obsidian stone. Without the silver frame, it could’ve been invisible.

Luc sliced his finger and pressed it to the gate. Gate. Distance. Path. Arrival. Cross. The shadows of the surface shivered and wavered, revealing a dark corridor beyond.

The King of Dusk shoved me through.

I crashed to the floor of a long, dark hallway. I sucked in a breath, the air here cooler in the way only underground places could be. Stone walls closed in on both sides, smooth and unadorned except for the occasional runelight flickering weakly against the gloom. Their dim glow reflected off the polished floor, casting long, distorted shadows across the black stone.

I scrambled forward.

A boot slammed between my shoulder blades.

I screamed as pain echoed down my spine. Luc could’ve crushed me in half with a single stomp.

That had been him being gentle.

He scooped me up and tossed me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

“Fucking put me down, asshole,” I sobbed, my voice breaking with every word. “I’m not Allegra. I can’t fucking be Allegra.”

Behind Luc, the Butcher stared at me with dead eyes. “Still pretending to be her? That scared little bride we fucked into surrender? That’s pathetic, even for you, Allegra.”

I flinched. His disgust cracked like a whip across the bond.

Luc started down the corridor without a word. The deeper we went, the tighter the stone pressed in, the colder the air became.

We passed through an open doorway. Steep wooden benches rose in tiers, stacked in a wide semicircle of dark varnished wood before navy upholstered seats. At the top tier in the center, a broad platform held a massive armchair. All the seats faced inward, fixed on the center of the circle.

On the wooden slab.

Seven feet long. Perfectly rectangular. Its surface was stained a deep, ugly red. Not splattered or streaked, but soaked in blood. Runes were carved into each corner. Anchor. Anchor. Anchor. Anchor. One for each limb. At the slab’s base, carved into the stone floor, a draining rune glowed faintly.

My heart nearly stopped. I didn’t need anyone to explain what I was seeing.

The Butcher’s Block.

Where Jules tortured the Impire’s prisoners. Where he turned pain into performance. Where blood was not just spilled but displayed.

Something twisted deep in my gut. My skin crawled, but I couldn’t stop looking.

Was he going to torture me? Really torture me?

But we passed the block, slipping into a narrower hall lined with deep-set alcoves. Each cell was open-faced with no bars or doors. Just dark recesses cut into black stone. At first, they looked like storage alcoves, until I noticed the thin border of runes etched into the floor before each one.

Imprison. Imprison. Imprison.

The word repeated like a drumbeat with every step we took.

Luc dropped me at his feet.

I barely had time to suck in a breath before his magic sparked.

Unravel. Soothe.

Pain stabbed up through my belly, a harsh jolt. My illness surged forward, summoned by the strain in my body and mind.

“No,” I sobbed. “Please—”

“You did this to yourself, Allegra.” Luc’s voice was cold. Distant. “Your choices were death or pain. Since I can’t grant you the first, you’ll suffer the second.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t give myself my illness. I wouldn’t choose this.”

“You chose to live,” he said flatly. “That’s the cost of the soulshift runespell.”

My breath caught. I thought of Morrena. Her cane. The spells she’d used to jump into the body of her unborn child, stretching her life beyond what any witch should’ve had.

What would that do to a fetus?

Damage it, apparently.

Had I done the same?

That couldn’t be true. I hadn’t chosen this. I hadn’t chosen anything.

I was not Allegra.

Across the hallway, my mother curled on a stone cot in a dark corner. The openings were staggered, not directly aligned, but I could still see her out of the corner of my vision. The runelight barely reached her, just enough to catch the edge of her pale cheek.

She stirred, then pushed tiredly to her feet. Her movements were stiff, like her limbs had forgotten how to hold weight. She stepped forward into the dim glow.

The last thing I saw was her face, staring down at me with reverence.

The chamber went dark.

“I’d take a nap if I were you, Allegra,” the Butcher said, his voice slithering out of the darkness. “When I return, we’ll have a little chat, you and I.”

I whimpered. I didn’t want to. But the Butcher wasn’t lying. Assuming the soulbond even worked the way they thought it did. If it did… they’d know I wasn’t lying.

Wouldn’t they?

But Isaura’s surrender had worked. I couldn’t deny that.

Footsteps retreated into the dark. The kings left me here. The bond was still there, pulsing faintly beneath my skin. But it didn’t make me feel any less alone.

I didn’t know it could get this dark. Sunlight had never touched this place and never would. I couldn’t see my hand, even as I raised it and brushed my fingers against my nose.

I cracked.

The pressure crushed my bones, just like when the soulbond activated. But this time, it pulverized me. I had tried. Tried and tried and tried and tried. But life kept shoveling the weight onto my back, dragging me down.

My mother’s harvest. My father’s apathy. Deidre’s harsh words. The creeping pain of my illness. My fertility score, posted for all to see. The Patriarch’s skin-crawling grin. The chill of the bookshop’s loft. The hunger. More pain, the days blurring.

The doom, ever rising.

And then when the day came to join the harvest, I’d thought maybe life wouldn’t be so bad. Even before the bond. My family hadn’t ever tried to be kind. But the kings had smiled. They’d removed my pain. My chill. My hunger.

Until they didn’t.

And this time, it hurt so much worse.

“Mistress?” My mother—no, Orlagh —spoke from the dark.

I crawled blindly until my fingers hit the edge of a cot. I hauled myself onto the scratchy, straw-stuffed mattress. My core twisted and clawed. “Fuck off.”

“But—”

“Fuck. Off.” I snarled the words. I didn’t care.

I couldn’t do this.

I had tried. I had kept my head raised and my voice mostly steady. I had pushed through the pain and the horror. I had tried so, so hard. But the weight had kept building. And building. And building.

Mortal Bride.

Soulbound.

Heartmate.

Witch.

Failure.

Killer.

Allegra.

I couldn’t hold it anymore.

So I let it crumble.

I wanted to go home. I wasn’t meant for this life, for schemes and crowns and murders. So many fucking murders. I wanted drama and death in my books, not my life. I couldn’t turn the page forward, skipping to the happy ending.

But this wasn’t a story. There would be no happy ending. How could there be? Happy endings weren’t for reality. Especially not my reality. Mine was bleak and terrible.

It always had been.

It always would be.

I don’t know why I ever expected anything else.

Nessa, Luc, and Jules will return in Bloodborne Court Book 2 . Follow Kate on social media at @katestevensbooks for all the latest updates or visit katestevensbooks.com/cows (yes, the Book 2 acronym really is COWS). Want the exclusive spicy extras? Join Kate’s newsletter at katestevensbooks.com/bobh-bonus for a NSFW illustration and a scorching short story featuring boulders… Need character art stat? Keep on turning the pages to see an illustration of Nessa and the kings at the Red Queen revelry. It’s soooo pretty! Psst, want all the links for this book in one place? Scan this QR code and get everything fast: