Page 52 of Dark Flame

Alec watches me with a slight tip to his head that makes his hair shield his face. “You’re not in danger, Sinclair, sit down.”

“For now.” But how long until he tires of selling my blood, of seeing the reminder of his sister’s murderer before he decides to wipe me out?

“Maybe forever. You’re the most entertainment I’ve had in a long while.”

Forever? Forever can burn in fucking Hell before I evenconsiderletting him stick his fangs in me.

“You’re unbelievable. Sorry for what my ancestor did to your sister, but that waslongbefore I was born. You’ve killed dozens of my family for what…one death?”

“Mysister’sdeath.”

“Again, I’msorry, but my life—I’m not at fault. And neither are you! Let it go—Cedric obviously did.” I think about the vampire who approached me on the dais, and how there was no hatred in his expression. “This revenge plot of yours is pointless becauseIdid nothing to you or Cora. You’ve decided to punish me for a crime I didn’t commit.”

Every ounce of self-preservation is gone, and words fly without considering consequences. At this point, I don’t even know what’d be better: to stay alive and hope to escape or to piss him off enough he ends my life and saves me both from this future and my misery.

Alec is a blur streaking across the small space. His shadow encompasses mine as he bends down, strands of hair brushing my cheek. “Say it,” he growls, pulling back enough I can see his face. When I’m forced to watch his lips part and his fangs slide farther from his gums—and ignore the way heat flashes between my legs. “Say it,” he commands again, his tone low and velvety, like satin gliding over my skin. “Say what’s on your mind, Hellion. Say how much you hate me.”

“I hate you.” It’s a weak whisper, driven by apprehension and none of the intended malice. “You’re cruel.”

He reaches for a clump of my hair, twirling the strip around his finger as he muses, “I’m a vampire, and it’s best you remember that. Cruelty is my very nature. I fear you may have forgotten that today.”

I did, but won’t ever again. “So be crueller. Or show me mercy, depending how you look at it.” I turn my head until the hair slides from his finger. His hand doesn’t move, though, and my cheek brushes against the same finger. “End my life. I’d rather meet death now than be dragged into your torture for some unknown length of time.”

“So you’ve said before, which is a mistake. Hint for if you ever invent a time-travelling curse and return to the past to change this present: Never tell the kidnapping asshole what you desire. Because now, I’m able to use it against you.”

Damn, he’s right. I’m an idiot.

“You see death as a freedom, and we can’t have that,” he continues, his words so low, I’m practically reading them from his mouth. His finger brushes my cheek, creating a path of heat as he reaches for the same clump of hair and pinches the ends. “It’s interesting how easily you greet the concept of death. How when you learned what I intended for you, you feared it, and yet you begged for it too. Very confusing.”

“There’s a difference between choosing my fate and having it chosen for me.”

He chuckles darkly, his breath cool against my nape and icing my veins. “Yes, that there is. Or is this your horrendous way of survivingme?”

“We all do things we have to, to survive. Even you.”

“That wasn’t a yes.” He smiles, his teeth a threat on their own.

“Fuck off.”

He loops my hair around his hand, the slight tug on my scalp a taunt. “Are you sure you wouldn’t enjoy immortality? You’ll die, as you’re so eager to do, and get to continue living all at the same time. You’ll be stronger than ever. Human emotions will no longer faze you. That grief you cling to? Gone.”

“Like yours?” I counter with a raise of a brow. “Because you’re the fucking poster child for managing grief.”

With a growl, he wrenches my head back until I’m staring at the ceiling. Pain flitters over my scalp, my hand going to where he has me, but he’s unyielding even when I claw at him. “Your attitude is something else, Hellion. Be careful how you speak to me.”

“Go. Die.”

“I’m already dead,” he replies before jerking away. My head thumps against the wall, and I rub the small ache as he stalks away, pausing by the fireplace. “When I return tomorrow night, these logs better be on fire.” His eyes rake over me, not shielding his disgust. “And you’ll be changed into something more respectable.”

“When I get my powers back, I’m burning you alive.”

“There she is. Keep it up, Sinclair. Anger looks good on you.”

He’s gone from the room, door locked and shut, before my next blink.

Twenty-One

ALEC