Page 216 of Claimed By Fangs and Darkness

By the time my hand tingled, it was shaking with adrenaline. My empty stomach grumbled. I tore the book from the shelf.

It shocked me.

I laughed, cruel and bitter. “Oh no, you fucking don’t.”

I wiped my saliva on the leather, a powerful magickal aid in sowing claim.Bend,I commanded.

All the candles in the room lit with purple flames.

The book sent me flying across the room. “All right, fine, we’ll do things your way,” I said, out of breath and head swimming.

I was unsteady when I hobbled over to Conrad’s desk chair, using a witch light to scan the piece of furniture.

As soon as I found a single, short dark hair, I captured it between my fingers and placed it on the book. I chanted, drawing in the power of the room. I whispered in the language of pain and power—Conrad’s language—as I lightly stroked the book.

I wasn’t zapped, nor was I thrown across the room for a third time today.

Assassination,I guided.Which councilman is being assassinated?

The book flew open. Undiscernible words jumbled together as pages flipped on their own. The floor outside creaked. Voices grew louder.

I didn’t think twice when the book finally stopped. I didn’t know if it was the right page or what the notes said. I merely ripped out that page and a few before and after and folded them.

I realized with great sadness this nightgown didn’t have anything close to a pocket.

Clutching the pages in my left hand, I threw open the window. I called to the earth. She reached back like a reunited sister, happy to lend a helping hand after I’d tended to her devotedly for so many years.

Sturdy vines shot toward me. I climbed out of the window. Conrad burst into the room, his soulless, pale eyes taking in the disarray.

Before he could hit me with a dose of pain, my shadows flooded the room. I didn’t kill him. That kill belonged to Vesper.

Shadows yanked the window shut. I scaled the building, soaking in the fresh, early autumn air. It tasted like freedom.

When I stumbled, vines steadied me. I landed softly on the earth, facing the backyard of the property.

My ears pricked. I could hear fighting in the distance, my first real evidence of war other than the soldiers who’d entered the estate. The fighting sounded surprisingly close.

With my hand holding the evidence of Conrad and Aster’s coup attempt, I took off toward the back gate. I’d seen it on my second visit here, when Aster tried to seduce me under the canopy of trees.

Each footstep away from Nighswander Estate felt euphoric, nearly orgasmic. I didn’t care how I’d get there.

I was going home.

And I hadn’t been raped. That was worth celebrating.

There were several wins to celebrate after the grandest, most humiliating failure of my entire life.

A cold breeze slammed into me in warning. I glanced over my shoulder for the third time, noting what appeared to be chaos through the windows into the estate. A back door flew open. Heavy footsteps and shouts cut through the air.

I conjured more power with a wicked smile. I continued running toward the back gate.

And just as I was about to be out of harm’s way, strong hands wrapped around me from behind.

Fangs tore into my neck, deep and urgent, dosing me with an immediate flood of venom. My blood drained. My magick halted.

I dropped the treasonous pages.

A hand petted my head. “Shhh, angel, you’re safe now. I’m getting you out of here. A firebird is waiting through the gate. We’re going straight to Prospyrus.”