Page 56 of Fated In Blood (Nocturne Vampire Clan #1)

56

BLAKE

H oly fucking hell.

This was like drinking straight from the wellspring of the galaxy, raw, uncontrollable power rushing over my tongue and down my throat in a rage of potent, endless energy. I couldn’t get enough, swallowing faster, greedy for more, more, more .

I was only vaguely aware of someone screaming. I scented Evie all around me, and my entire body rocked with vicious, consuming pain. Agony radiated from everywhere, like a wave of burning lava consuming me whole, fire gnawing at my skin, my insides, my bones.

My magic tore out of me, painting me in bloodthirsty darkness, urging me to crush everything my path. Vicious shadows crawled up Evie’s arm before I ripped them off her.

No, Not her. She’s mine.

Thick warmth spilled down my throat, turning to acid when it hit my system. Her blood was killing me and even so, I couldn’t have stopped drinking if I’d wanted to.

Then my mouth was torn away from the source of this delectable sustenance and the room spun and spun like a top.

I was flying. Blissfully high from my mate’s delicious blood.

No, wait.

Fuck.

Someone had thrown me.

I landed in the fireplace, crushing logs beneath me, hot, glowing embers eating through my bloodstained clothes, but…fucking hell, even fire couldn’t hurt me, flames greedily licking up my skin and leaving no mark.

I was fucking invincible.

Laughing, I rolled out of the fireplace in a shower of sparks and shadow, freezing at the unfolding scene.

Malachi yanking a sword of some kind out of Valaine’s throat. Riordan, face contorted in rage, rising to his feet like some kind of apparition. Red shadows clawing through the room in slow motion as Tyrell cast a fresh net of compulsion to ensnare us in his web of power.

Evangeline, her bloody, ravaged wrist pressed to her mouth, staring at me like she’d seen a ghost.

Power raced through me like a wild, screaming wind, a storm filled with bursts of energy. My dark, hungry shadows snapped and rent the air. Never had I felt so strong. I was eternal .

I was everything.

I climbed to my feet and my broken leg—the one Valaine snapped in three places—held, completely healed. My ribs were intact, my spine no longer shattered.

I was as healthy as ever, only…so much better.

But I was riding an edge of hunger that had no end. Dimly, on the outskirts of my mind, I understood what this was.

Bloodlust.

But something far more dangerous.

I lifted my head and scented the magic-saturated air, sucking in the sweet, honeyed aroma of Evangeline’s blood. She was right there . My mate’s thudding heartbeat called me like a siren’s song, her addictive taste still coating the inside of my mouth like ambrosia. I craved her with every ounce of my being.

I wanted to drink until there was nothing left.

My feet left the ground, and a second later, Riordan slammed into my side, knocking me from my trajectory, Evie watching wide-eyed.

“Pull yourself together, you stupid fuck. You fed from Evie and now you’re back in the fight. Malachi bought us a two-minute window to end this and you’re fucking everything up. Get your shit together.”

Cold fear cut through my muddled thoughts enough for me to grasp the gist of what Riordan was saying. We were still in the castle. Still Tyrell’s captives. Malachi was about to break the blood oath, and when he did…

I turned to where Tyrell was slowly crushing Riordan back down to the floor, one inch at a time, my king fighting with everything he had as he stubbornly held my gaze. He’d been shot, stabbed, and beaten tonight and was nearly out of strength.

Evie was vulnerable, too close to Tyrell, barely an arm’s length from Valaine’s body sprawled out on the floor. A tremor went through me. As long as that fucker still had his head, he was a threat.

“Someone had better get moving,” Malachi yelled, throwing a lit candelabra end over end toward Tyrell, who deflected it effortlessly with a whip of red, glowing magic. “Before he gets us all under his control.”

Evie lunged straight toward Malachi. I moved to intercept her, but she ducked and slid across the floor, ripping something free from the back of a chair before disappearing beneath the red-draped table.

When I tried to take another step, I couldn’t, locked in place by Tyrell’s magic. Riordan was down on all fours, and Malachi… he was frozen mid swing, with what looked like a metal spike clenched in one hand, aimed directly at Tyrell’s head.

“General Laurentius Talarius. The Tyrant.” Malachi could barely get the words out. “That’s what they called you, isn’t it? Back when Rome ruled the world? Caine found you on a battlefield in Croatia and offered you a choice. Die or be turned.”

Malachi’s eyes burned with hate. “You accepted, you soulless fuck.”

The absolute vehemence with which Malachi hissed those words made me pause. There was a history between these two, something we’d missed.

Riordan managed to lift his gaze to mine.

What is going on?

“Caine recognized my value.” Tyrell sniffed, but his attention was wholly focused on Malachi now, no longer concerned with the rest of us. “I am powerful, still loyal to Caine’s cause.”

“Not powerful enough for him to make you an Elder.” I had no idea how Malachi was managing to speak around this compulsion, but every word cost him, a stream of blood trickling from his nose. “No, he didn’t value you as much as that.”

“What would you know of it?” Tyrell snapped, sweat beading on his face.

The Ancient was holding three powerful vampires in place, and…the effort was wearing him down. I fought his compulsion harder, feet digging into the floor, legs straining to take one fucking step. Riordan fought every bit as hard, and Malachi…he just wouldn’t shut up.

“You had a sword, a fancy one, given to you by Marcus Aurelius himself. ‘ In war, we rise ’ was engraved on the blade. An old family motto of yours, or did they just make that up for the ceremony?”

The light in the room slipped away, candles snuffing out as red-tipped shadows crept from every corner, the fire dying down until only cracked blackened embers glowed in the grate. Tyrell’s angry magic filled the room in a crushing swell.

“Where is the dagger?” Tyrell lifted his hand, and Malachi rose off the floor, face contorted in pain. “Silas claimed the blade was lost in the fire, buried beneath a mountain of rubble and melted iron, but something tells me that was a lie. The dagger isn’t in the Vault, is it? Where the fuck is that blade ?”

Beneath Tyrell’s scream rang an echo of fear.

Malachi only pressed his lips together, my body quaking as I lifted one foot from the floor to steal a single step, every muscle screaming in protest. Riordan was fighting to rise, and thank fucking God, Evie was smart enough to stay beneath the table, her unconscious sister forgotten by the fireplace, half hidden in shadow.

Because the moment Riordan and I broke free, the room would become a bloodbath.

Riordan kept pushing up and up and up, as if lifting an enormous weight on his shoulders, teeth grinding together when he finally straightened, his gaze sliding to mine. Get her out. Whatever happens, get her out.

“None of you are leaving,” Tyrell mocked softly. “Have you learned nothing in all these years? I am immortal. Warded against silver, nightshade?—”

“God, not this again. Do you never stop talking? I’ve heard that story a hundred times.” Malachi’s voice came out strangled. He was being choked to death, his back bent at such an extreme angle, he would snap in half at any moment. But his narrowed eyes met mine then quickly shifted to the table.

Where Evie was .

“Nothing on this earth can harm me.” Tyrell sniffed dismissively. “ Nothing . I am protected by magic far older than anything else in existence. Once Riordan is gone, I will have a clear path to create the world Caine envisioned. A perfect world, where vampires do not have to hide, and I will finally have the power I’ve always deserved.”

“You are an insufferable little prick,” Malachi hissed, “and you always have been.”

A horrendous crack echoed as Tyrell broke Malachi’s back.

“Now tell me, traitor, where is the dagger? You have the blade, don’t you?” Tyrell stomped over and swept his hand across the table, knocking books and candles everywhere. “Could it be here, in this room?”

Over in the corner, Valaine opened his eyes, hands twitching compulsively. Once that fucker was back in the fight, once Collum returned with those guards, the odds wouldn’t be in our favor.

Fuck, they weren’t now, but at least it was three to one.

Two to one, since Malachi couldn’t move.

“You don’t deserve power.” Riordan had not only managed to stand, he was one step closer to Tyrell, almost within arm’s reach. “You are a fucking monster.”

Tyrell retreated a step, but this time, when his magic gathered, the shadows were sluggish, writhing listlessly, pale as morning mist.

“ Me ?” Tyrell laughed. “Point that judgmental finger at yourself, Riordan Graves. You murdered your own sire to steal his kingdom and put yourself in power. You twisted the rules to your own end, hiding behind your mask of honor and nobility to paint yourself the avenging hero.”

Even Malachi’s eyes swung to Rohr, suffering turning to surprise, replaced by cold calculation.

“But the fact remains. Dominic Graves is dead. You killed your sire in cold blood,” he mocked softly, so sure he’d already won and the Nocturne Clan was his. “You planned his murder then executed him, by your own hand. Even after all the admittedly evil things I’ve done in my life, I never killed my own sire for the sake of power.”

As if something broke inside him, Riordan stumbled forward, hands outstretched, and wrapped them around Tyrell’s throat.