Page 26 of Fated In Blood (Nocturne Vampire Clan #1)

26

EVANGELINE

T he bed didn’t have bedbugs, only because bedbugs needed a living host to survive and there had been nothing alive in this room for at least a hundred years.

The bedding was musty and dry rotted, faded so badly I couldn't even tell the original color, which I doubted had been puke brown. The rug was threadbare, brocade paper peeling from the walls. Glad to see I would be living in the lap of luxury for the foreseeable future.

I stripped off my bloody, ruined clothes, and set my boots by the door. I’d forgotten my leather jacket at Valentine’s, since I’d been out of my mind when Riordan had spirited me away, but I vowed to retrieve it as soon as possible.

That coat was the only thing in this world that meant anything to me, besides my sister.

But after I poked and prodded the bed and searched through every drawer, besides a moth-eaten shirt to sleep in, I found something else I desperately needed.

Uninterrupted silence.

And when that silence became too loud, when I’d worked through my many deep-seated issues about being turned into a bloodsucking monster and having to drink blood to survive, exhaustion finally claimed me. I tumbled head over heels into a darkness that had no end.

My dreams were filled with violence and rivers of blood, images of my sister staring up at a monster with adoring eyes, of fire cutting through the darkness like a scythe.

I woke up a starving mess, drooling over my fangs onto the moldy pillow, my stomach so hollow I curled in on myself. This fucking sucked. How did vampires survive like this? Being hungry all the time was damned inconvenient. I mean, feeding was all I thought about, and after I fed, I was so high from the power buzz I could barely even function.

As if I’d summoned him, Riordan appeared out of nowhere at the foot of my bed. I jerked the blanket up to my chest like a fucking Puritan and screamed.

Just a squeak, but it wasn’t a good look.

He smirked, one corner of his mouth twitching. God, he was a sight in the morning, or maybe hunger was making me hallucinate. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tattoos peeking out from beneath the white fabric of his tailored shirt, dark pressed pants accentuating thick, powerful thighs.

“You need to feed.”

“You need to fuck off, Your Highness.” In truth, his heady scent sent my heart hitching in my chest, my toes curling from the sheer force of my need. Every part of me wanted to leap from this bed and take him down like an animal.

That corner of Riordan’s mouth moved up, just a little. “Fine, then. Enjoy hunger tearing you apart from the inside out. Come find me when you’re a babbling, senseless wreck. I’ll be in my office doing paperwork. Tedious stuff, really, but it comes with the job.”

“Did you go to asshole school, or does being a douchebag come naturally?”

Again, with that little smirk. “I went to Cal Tech, actually. Bio physics. I only minored in asshole, if you must know.”

“Wow, double minor in shitty humor, I see.”

“I think we’re going to have a good working relationship, Silver, once we get past your stubbornness and bad jokes.” He tipped his head back, then slowly ran his finger down his corded neck. “See anything you like?”

My fucking mouth watered like he was made of goddamn chocolate cake.

With dark chocolate icing and ganache filling.

“Come on, just a sip. You remember how good I tasted, don’t you? Or would you rather I come to you?” He tipped his head to the side, considering me curiously, the light picking up glints of gold in his eyes. “Yes, I think that would be better.”

“Stay right there. Don’t come any closer.” Oh my fucking God, my entire body was on fire. He was too beautiful, onyx hair curling just below his wide shoulders, those full, parted lips showing the sharp points of white fangs. I wanted to push him down onto this bed and drink him dry, to feel him shove up inside of… Fuck no .

The bastard’s nostrils flared, that half-smirk turning into a full-fledged grin of anticipation. “I’ll give you everything that you need, Silver, and you will give me back my kingdom. Together, we’ll destroy Tyrell.”

He prowled toward me, popping the top button on his shirt, then the next. Every flick of his fingers showed off those powerful, corded forearms, and just like that, the protests died on my lips.

Even Riordan’s promise floated away like gossamer silk, inconsequential as a spider’s web. Only the vein pulsing in the king’s neck mattered, only his blood pumping wildly registered right now. My hunger came alive, demanding I take what I needed, to slake this thirst that had no beginning and no end.

The covers trapped my legs when I lunged from the bed, wound my hands into that perfectly pressed white shirt, and threw His Majesty down on the mattress. I finally managed to disengage myself from those fucking sheets and straddled him, trapping him between my thighs. My chest heaved; I couldn’t hear over the pounding in my ears as he held my stare and bumped his erection up into my core, sending heat radiating through me.

I dragged my nose up his throat, inhaling gulps of his rich scent. He smelled so good, I replaced my nose with my tongue, lapping at his neck, at that pulse pounding beneath my lips.

“We’re awfully damn close, Silver. Are you sure this is what you want?”

His hands took their time sliding up over my ass, finally resting on the small of my back, the other wrapping around the nape of my neck. Not pulling me closer, though. Giving me time to decide.

What a fucking gentleman. Like I really had a choice.

My lips pulled up over my fangs, and just the sharp sensation of the cool air hitting them made me groan. Everything about my new body was too sensitive, and right now, this was as intense as things got.

Riordan didn’t break eye contact as he turned his head slowly, baring his throat to me. “I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, Silver. Don’t fuck around. Strike fast and bite deep. You know you want to. Don’t be shy, just?—”

I moved so fast the room blurred, my fangs punching through skin with frightening ease. I moaned when his blood filled my mouth, gulping him down faster than was healthy, but I couldn’t stop myself, swallowing as fast as I could, his delicious taste coating my mouth.

Riordan tasted too good, and I was too far gone to care how this looked.

His hand twisted in my hair, the other resting lightly on the small of my back. That small touch kept me grounded, and I growled when his fingers tightened then finally yanked my head away from the punctures. “There won’t be any left if you keep going like that. You need to slow down. Three more pulls, then lick the punctures closed. That’s considered good manners.”

For the strangest reason, him calling my manners into question penetrated the fog of hunger I was lost inside. I managed to limit myself to three—very strong—pulls, then laved my tongue over the bite until I’d picked up every last trace of blood, my head spinning when his blood slammed into my system like a sledgehammer.

I should have stopped. Should have rolled off him, but he felt too good, all this muscled hardness trapped beneath me, and I rocked my hips, anticipation shivering through me.

His skin was silky smooth. Velvety soft. My tongue danced over his throat, followed by my lips, tracking up that strong tendon until I nibbled his strong jaw, cut as sharply as a knife. God, he was a handsome bastard, his rock-hard chest heaving beneath my palms. I was vaguely aware of my hips moving, of a dark pleasure building between my legs, but I was too far gone to focus on that for long.

I only felt the pressure of his hand on my back, urging my hips to move faster, the taste of him filling my mouth as I feasted on his skin, and the pinch of pain as he twisted his hand tighter in my hair. I was shattering apart on a tide of endless power and I didn’t care.

Desire and need tangled together, my core rubbing up and down along his hard length, and I moaned against his throat from the sheer ecstasy of that delicious friction as need built higher and higher until the pressure became unbearable.

“That’s it, keep going, Silver.”

My eyes flew open, the words registering like a punch to the gut.

Humiliated, I scrambled off Riordan, only to tumble off the bed in a tangle of those stupid fucking sheets and hit the floor face-first for the second goddamned time in two days. I could not catch a fucking break.

I pushed up, shoved the offending sheets off me, and climbed to my feet in an attempt to salvage my dignity. “That was a mistake.”

“Clearly.” Riordan was spread across my bed, wide shoulders protruding from the tattered shirt now flecked with blood—my mouth watered at the sight—his pants tented from an impressive hard-on. Worst of all was the big wet spot right over his cock, where I’d been grinding myself to a climax that never fucking happened.

“Get out.”

For a second, I thought he’d refuse, but he rose smoothly from the bed and prowled toward the door, taking his good old time. He paused before he left, fingers tapping on the doorframe as if he was debating whether or not to speak.

“Twice a day for the next week we’ll do this, Silver. When you’re through your transition, when you’re strong, then we’ll go after Tyrell. Until then, make yourself comfortable and get some sleep. I’ll see you at dusk.” His eyes glittered when he ran them over me, cataloging every minute detail of my appearance.

“You’re a beautiful woman. I’m not opposed to fucking you. But don’t think this is anything but a business arrangement. You’re here because you’re a tool. Nothing more. Don’t convince yourself otherwise.”

God, I hated how my insides warmed at the compliment, hated how easily his casual dismissal hurt me.

“Trust me, that’s never happening again.”

His snort of amusement would have been too soft for me to discern as a human, but as a vampire, I heard it clear as a bell.

“We’ll see, Silver, we’ll see.”

By the time the sun fell behind the trees, I’d worn a path in the rug, hands clenching in desperation, sweat pouring down my spine as I paced. I was starving. Fucking ravenous.

Self-control had gone out the window hours ago, but simple stubbornness and pride kept me from leaving this room and hunting Riordan down. Fuck, I was even desperate enough to try to find Blake.

“Sorry I’m late.”

One second, the room was empty, the next, Riordan stood by the window in a dark tailored suit, that look of perpetual boredom etched on his stupid face.

“I was delayed. Business that couldn’t wait.”

I was dimly aware I was staring, hands clenched, body trembling as I held myself in check. Restraint was pure torture, trapped between a hunger I couldn’t tame and consuming hatred I couldn’t give into, not if I wanted what this pompous bastard had to offer.

Hunger would win out, as it always did, but until then, I fought the urge, muscles straining against this overwhelming desire to feed.

The bastard in question loosened his tie and tossed it on the window seat. “Fighting your instincts just makes the hunger more intense and harder to resist. You have to find the balance, Silver. Feed enough to keep yourself strong, but not too much or you’ll fall into bloodlust…or worse.”

“Gee, thanks for the advice, sensei.”

His lips pinched together. “The rules are simple. Feed or die. Since Blake went to a lot of fucking trouble to save you…”

But Blake wasn’t the one who saved me, was he?

“Don’t make this sound like he—or you, for that matter—did me a favor, Your Highness. I never asked for this. In fact, I went to great lengths to prevent this from happening.”

“Trust me, I vividly remember that night, down to the last fucking detail,” Riordan snapped, then he blew out a long breath before settling himself onto the window seat. He spread his legs and tipped his head back against the window. Saliva filled my mouth at the sight of his throat stretched out taut, practically begging me to sink my fangs in.

“You turned me, not Blake. Why?” For a long moment we just stared each other down, and I wondered if for once, I’d met someone as stubborn as I was.

“Because Blake has a soft heart. Soft enough to be maneuvered into Tyrell’s trap.” His jaw worked, and I wondered what he wasn’t telling me. “There was no need for him to be chained to you for an eternity just because he’s a good male.”

Anger curdled my blood like sour milk. “So…you’re not a good male and now we’re chained together?”

“I don’t have any attachment to you, Silver, beyond what you can do for me. Once you’ve done what’s required, we’ll never see each other again.”

“That day can’t come too soon. Still, you should have let me die.” I glanced away, phantom pain coursing through my neck, right where the silver blade had sliced so cleanly.

His smile grew, edged with wickedness. “And miss all this fun?”

“Fuck you… Your Majesty .” I put my back to the wall, vowing not to fall for the thudding call of Riordan’s siren blood. “You never even gave me a choice.”

He considered that for a moment before he nodded in agreement. “Blake wanted…” He cleared his throat. “Blake would have asked your consent, if there was time. But there wasn’t, because Tyrell forced Blake’s hand.”

“I was dead,” I pointed out. “Dying, at least. Threats were the least of my worries.”

That entire night was a blur, only fragments remaining with me, flashes, really, or sensations of hazel eyes filled with furious pain, of promises whispered, of being so cold I thought I’d never get warm again.

“Tyrell was planning to give you to one of his men. Valaine, a sadist with a reputation for torture. That sick bastard would have Made you, but your existence would be nothing but pain and suffering.”

For once, I detected none of Riordan’s usual sarcasm, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “Blake’s been through hell. Since he can’t go through hell again and emerge unscathed, I turned you so Valaine couldn’t.”

There was so much information—and emotion—to unpack from that explanation, I didn’t know where to start.

“This…Valaine, who is he, exactly?” Was he around my sister? Did Angel know these people? Every time I thought of her, I imagined her being held against her will, and I couldn’t reconcile Angel associating with monsters like Tyrell and Bosch and now…Valaine.

“That fucking bastard’s in charge of interrogation and torture for Tyrell. Handles all his dirty work down in a dungeon below the castle.” Riordan swallowed, hesitating.

“He killed Blake’s sister, Cassmira.” His gaze flicked to mine. “After the Silverwoods took Cass from the family estate, they delivered her to Tyrell, who turned her over to Valaine. We got her body back two days later.” His voice was shaking, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the window seat. “She’d been… Blake could only identify her gold pinkie ring, the one he’d given her when she turned sixteen.”

I’d seen that ring, on the chain around Blake’s neck.

I could only stare, my mouth too dry to speak, remembering Blake told me this exact story, the grief and guilt threading through his words. My fucking family caused this. Mine .

“That would have been your fate, Silver. I know…decisions had to be made, and while you did not consent, I’d like to believe we made the right choice, given the alternative.”

Some of the hatred cooled, my head clearing for the first time in days. Weeks, maybe.

It was funny. Hate and rage had given this messed-up situation a certain logical order. I’d been turned against my will, and being a vampire was the worst outcome I could have ever imagined. But maybe that was the life lesson here.

There was always a worse fate lurking around the corner.

There was always a bigger monster waiting to gobble me up.

“Okay.” I pressed my back against the wall so hard my shoulder blades ached. “I see how this could have been worse. And I understand why you turned me. But there’s something you have to understand. I haven’t seen Silas Silverwood in twelve years. My mother nearly died getting Angel and I away from him. He’s as big a monster as Tyrell.”

“Silas? Your…father?”

I nodded, my arms shaking from the effort of holding myself back. “I want my sister back; you want Tyrell dead. We help each other, and when that bastard is gone and my sister free, then we go our separate ways.”

“That’s the plan.” Riordan gave me a long, hard look. “Now come here and feed, Silver, before you fall down.”

One second, my back was flat against the wall, the next…I had Riordan pressed against the window glass, knees on either side of his hips as I sank my teeth into his neck. This is so, so wrong , I thought dimly before the taste of him hit my tongue.

Then I was soaring, carried along by his taste and his power, held steady by his hands braced on my hips, ever so slowly gyrating against him. I took three deep pulls—four, because he was late and I was starving—before I gathered myself together and carefully licked the punctures closed. I went to stand up, but Riordan pulled me against him until I lay against his chest.

After these past few days, I had to admit, the contact felt…nice.

Weird but nice after years of not being touched, even if Riordan was nothing more than an enemy cloaked as an ally.

My lips skimmed over his skin, tongue flicking out to capture any residue left behind.

“You are insatiable,” he murmured. “Two more sips, then you should sleep. You’ve had a hellacious day, Silver.”

“I really have,” I agreed, picking the perfect place on his throat to strike, right over his beating pulse. This time I tried to be more careful, more precise. After all, I’d be doing this for the rest of my life, I might as well get it right.

But at the first taste of Riordan, I lost every bit of restraint and turned into a savage.

Even worse, I didn’t think the king minded one bit as I viciously sank my fangs into the soft, smooth skin of his neck like an animal, his powerful hands gripping my ass, yanking my writhing body hard against him.