She trembles and writhes beneath me, her legs locked around my waist as if anchoring herself to this world. To me.
I drink—not deeply, just enough to taste her, to know her, to mark her.
My fangs are bloody as I pull back, my cock throbbing inside her slick heat.
I slice my wrist with one sharp fang, pressing it to her lips. “Drink, Drusilla. Take all that I am.”
She doesn’t hesitate. She wraps her lips around the wound and drinks —greedily, desperately, reverently. I groan, watching her throat work as she swallows mouthful after mouthful of my blood, binding us in a way no vow ever could.
The change hits her like a storm.
She thrashes beneath me, her body shaking, her nails dragging down my back in wild, instinctive pain. Her eyes widen, her breath catches, and her mouth opens in a silent scream.
“ Shhh, ” I croon, wrapping my arms around her, holding her as the ancient magic burns through her veins. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
I cradle her as she shakes and shudders and finally stills, whispering words in Latin—words older than the Empire, older than light.
Amor. Mea. Aeternum.
Love. Mine. Forever.
The wind quiets. The sea stills.
And then…
Her fingers twitch.
Her lashes flutter.
She blinks once. Twice.
When her eyes open, they’re no longer mortal. Still molten brown, still the eyes I love, but the pupils are now ringed with gold.
Drusilla inhales sharply, and her lips curl into a wicked, wonderstruck smile. “Is this what it’s like”—her voice is lower, richer, laced with something dark and dazzling—“to be free?”
I don’t answer with words. I kiss her like a man who’s found his salvation. Like a lover who’s been born again in her arms.
I pull out and plunge deep inside her. She moans as she flips me onto my back. Bracing her hands on my chest, she rides me, rolling her hips as she takes me deep. Fuck, she’s so beautiful as she comes apart on my cock, dragging me over the edge with her into forever…
We plan to run. We steal coin from her father’s study. She hides a pair of boots and a compass beneath the stable floorboards. I gather horses, food, names of safe houses far beyond the border.
One more night, we say. Just one.
But the gods are never kind to men like me.
I feel it before I hear it.
A scream. Not in my ears, but my soul. A tether ripped loose. A bond torn in two.
I drop the saddle I’m lifting. I run faster than I’ve ever run. My feet barely touch the ground.
By the time I reach the temple, she’s gone.
Her body lies crumpled on the gleaming black marble of the altar, gilded by the moonlight spilling through the high, arched opening.
A stake is buried deep in her chest, her mouth frozen in a gasp that will never end.
Blood stains the silk of her robe, blooming like roses across her breast.
I drop to my knees and gather her into my arms.
She’s still warm.
I press my forehead to hers and whisper every prayer I’ve ever known. Every curse. Every bargain I’m willing to make. My tears stain her cheeks. My voice cracks. My body shakes with the weight of what I’ve lost.
I would give anything— anything —to bring her back.
But the gods are silent.
Gently removing the locket I gave her after we first made love, I pull it over my head—a symbol of our love I will carry always.
I bury her beneath the cliffs where I first kissed her. I mark the grave with stones shaped like stars and place lavender on her tomb.
I walk into the night with vengeance in my heart. Only one person would do this to her.
Cassian.
Her father.
I don’t hunt him like a soldier. I hunt him like a wolf.
For days, I track his movements through the city. I watch him parade through the streets like a god in polished armor, accepting praises carved from fear. He thinks her death made him stronger. Made him clean again.
I may be a vampire, but he made me a monster. He doesn’t know what I’m capable of, what I’m willing to become to avenge her death.
On the seventh night, I strike.
The villa is silent when I slip through the shadows. His guards are loyal but slow. They don’t even have a chance to scream. I leave their blood soaking into the marble. I don’t care who sees.
I want him to know it’s me.
I find him in his study, where he once beat her for reading scrolls not meant for women. The room reeks of wine and power and old blood.
He looks up from his desk, utterly calm. “I wondered when you’d come.”
I bare my fangs. “You murdered her.”
“She was mine to discipline.”
“You chained her. Starved her. Beat her.”
“I raised her to be a daughter of Rome . You turned her into a blasphemy .”
My laughter is cold. “She chose me. That’s what you couldn’t stand.”
He stands and draws his sword. “She was my legacy.”
“She was my love ,” I growl, launching myself at him.
Steel meets supernatural speed. His blade slices my skin. I taste blood. He lands a cut across my shoulder, another at my thigh. But I’m stronger. And I’m no longer holding back.
He screams as I break his arm with a snap. I drag him to his knees, fangs bared, heart pounding like war drums.
His eyes burn with hatred. “I should’ve drowned her at birth.”
Those are his last words before I tear out his throat. Not cleanly. I make it hurt . I make it last.
And when he dies, choking on his own blood, I whisper her name into his ear.
Drusilla.
The earth is silent when the blood lust fades. My hands are drenched in blood. My soul is hollow. But my vengeance is complete.
I swear on her blood, her name, her love, that I will find a way to bring her back. Even if it takes centuries. Even if I have to crawl through the fires of the underworld to find the pieces of her soul.
Even if it means becoming the very thing she once saved me from.