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EVANGELINE

I opened my eyes to nothing but black.

Black paneled walls, black velvet furniture, a ridiculously over the top carved bed with smooth, silky black sheets and thick black drapes pulled tight against a blaringly brutal sun and holy fucking shit was that bright .

Every muscle in my body sizzled with pain, every cell felt ruptured. Even my skin felt like I’d had been scrubbed head to toe with sandpaper and my poor skull was splintering apart.

On the bedside stand stood a glass of water—ice still floating—along with two aspirin and a croissant fresh enough to have just come out of the oven. Poisoned, probably, given my kidnapper was a murdering psychopath.

And beside those, in a cut crystal vase…

I tumbled back down that dark hole, something sharp and hot igniting in my chest as I reached for those red roses, the luscious blooms so heavy they drooped on thick, thorny stems.

No. Not red .

Velvety soft, seductively enticing, dark enough to be black.

The exact same roses that had appeared on my nightstand every morning I’d spent at Darkmore Castle. The same roses growing in Malachi’s garden last night, before I’d reduced the entire place to dust. I swallowed and brushed a silver, ashy flake from one perfect petal.

None of this made sense.

Not the flowers, or the magic, or these twisted-up feelings, because this couldn’t be happening to me . A slayer turned vampire turned whatever-the-fuck I was now; thrown into a life I’d never wanted.

I rubbed my pounding temples.

How did I even get here ?

But the bigger question, and something I should have asked myself last night, how did Malachi know so much about my magic?

How could he know more than me?

Mom had gone to extraordinary measures to keep my powers hidden, and after she bound my magic, we’d never spoken about it again, no matter how many times I’d asked. I straightened my swollen fingers, holding my breath, waiting for a wreath of frozen fire to appear. Nothing .

I didn’t know whether to be disappointed or grateful.

Either way, I’d acted recklessly last night.

But self-control had been the last thing on my mind, with dark magic churning though my veins like pure adrenaline, the source of all my anger standing right the fuck in front of me with that stupid little smirk on his face. I’d been so sure I could take Malachi, especially in his weakened state.

In retrospect—which was definitely twenty-twenty this morning—I should have waited.

But…as it turned out, Malachi Draven was many things, but he wasn’t a pervert.

I still had on yesterday’s clothes, and even better—I reached down like I was scratching my leg—my phone was still stuffed in my sock, where I’d thankfully stowed it when Fiona Drakon showed up at Crimson House…with a fucking witch .

I should have known everything after that would go to shit.

Since Malachi was the king of stalkers, he probably had eyes on me right now, but I had to get word to Blake. He and Riordan must be losing their minds—I entertained a brief moment of panic that maybe they didn’t care at all, before I told myself I was being ridiculous—and sent my mate a text with the phone beneath the covers, haphazardly typing in a sloppy message as I yawned and pretended to be confused about why I’d ended up in someone’s weird-ass goth bedroom.

Im alirve and I’m gng to kill him. I’ll send you mor info when I can. Sry for whatIsaid. Did I mntion Im going to fking kill him?

Since I only had half a battery, I sent the message before I could second guess myself, then jammed the phone deep beneath the covers, picking up the water and making a show of sniffing it for poison.

Vampire smell was pretty spot on, and honestly, it seemed fine.

By the time Malachi showed up, the water and the croissant were gone, and I was debating taking the aspirin, since my head was still pounding. Was this from using my magic, or from the magic being locked up again? Maybe I was getting a sinus infection, because my head was definitely about to explode.

“Good morning, Vicious.” He leaned in the doorway like some velvet draped gigolo. “I thought you were going to sleep all day, but I’m glad to see you’ve remained among the living. Did you enjoy your croissant?”

“It was fucking dry. And the water tastes like metal.”

“That croissant was from the best bakery in Paris and I see you’re determined to be difficult. No matter, get yourself together and meet me downstairs. The bathing chamber is right through there.”

The fucker looked happy, like he’d just gotten back from riding a unicorn through a field of daisies or some such shit and I was going to murder him before lunchtime.

I swallowed the aspirin and flopped back onto the pillows.

I’d get my chance.

I’d been overconfident last night, but there would come a time when he’d unlock my magic again. Some point where I’d learn enough to become a threat. And I was a fast fucking learner.

Imagining what I could do with some training, some control, and all this vengeance burning a hole in my heart, I headed for the bathroom.