Page 169 of Loreblood

Dimmon’s red pupils found Peltos, his head slanting curiously. He did not seem to recognize Peltos, or anyone for that matter . . . with the exception of me. “Mistress?” he asked in a mottled, rasping voice. The veins of his neck moved as he attempted to speak, drooling black and red fluids down his exposed throat and slack lips.

“Noblebloods of Marquin,” I announced, lifting my arms high to gesture at Dimmon. “Thisis what happens to those who work against us. This is how our enemies end up, because death is too pure an end for those who would oppose us.”

The hushed voices of the court raised an octave, voicing fury, gall, and surprised shouts. I had no idea if they agreed with me or hated me—my attention was zeroed on Dimmon and Peltos. I could not see past the red, pulsating tunnel in my gaze.

“What have you done to him, you mad bitch?!” Peltos squealed.

“Oh? Do you not want your chieftain back, Peltos?” I asked. “Is he not to your liking?”

“Fuckthis.” Peltos made to move past Dimmon.

“Attack,” I muttered.

Dimmon lunged at Peltos, blood spraying from his exposed, skinned body. He let out a grating sound and clamped his fangs on Peltos’ shoulder—

But he was weak and Peltos was spry and healthy. He managed to spin and shrug Dimmon off before getting bitten.

“What’s wrong, Peltos? Will you not fight for your freedom?” I called out.

The young man sidestepped left and right, avoiding Dimmon’s lumbering charges. “Boss, it’s me! Snap out of it!” Tears were in his eyes now.

“Seems you’ll have to kill him if you want to get out of this manor,” I said, shrugging.

I heard a crash behind me, the splintering of wood, and then turned as Vallan handed me a jagged table leg.

I tossed the stake onto the ground as Peltos’ feet. “Better move fast.”

Peltos wailed and picked up the stake. He tried to move defensively to get out of the pit, but the vampires standing at the edges of the circle wouldn’t let him leave.

His angling and cowardice was what signaled his downfall. Because rather than stake his boss through the heart, Peltos tried to spin around the vampiric husk—

And Dimmon managed to grab his arm and bite into his wrist.

Peltos yelped in pain as he dropped the table leg. He punched into Dimmon’s face and hooked his fingers into his boss’ eyes, popping one of them like a grape.

I scooped up the table leg, moving forward.

“Sephania!” Skar hissed.

Dimmon hovered over Peltos to clamp his jaws on the younger man’s throat—

I jammed the table leg through the back of Dimmon’s neck, the squishy part, when he was close to Peltos’ face. The leg impaled the skinless monster and jutted out between his open jaw, inches from Peltos’ scared face. Dimmon let out a ghastly wheeze.

I reeled back with a squelching of blood then shoved the stake through his back, lung, and into his heart. His lung burst like a melon, his heart caved in.

Dimmon rasped, dropping dead for the final time in a pile of organs, blood, and ruined muscle.

Peltos was left ragged and bleeding from his wrist, bitten by the vampire. He stared at me with a blanched, slack face as I threw the gory table leg onto the floor.

“What are you doing, my queen?” Skar asked behind me, more bemused than angry.

“I changed my mind,” I said matter-of-factly. “This man does not deserve to meet his end from the likes of Dimmon Plank.”

Peltos’ brow furrowed. “. . . Thank you?”

“There is another more deserving,” I finished, scanning the room until I found my target. “Ah! There she is.” My fingers curled, motioning just past the edge of the pit where a large vampiress had been watching everything play out with rapt attention in her crimson eyes. “My old friend Helget.”

My former Grimson sister, the victim of Peltos’ rape when I’d first arrived at Lukain’s Firehold as a broken girl of thirteen summers, smiled devilishly and bared her fangs. “You offer me an honor, sister.”