Page 59

Six hours and easily two-dozen climaxes later, Vallan pulled his cock out of me for the final time that evening, bellowing his satisfaction.

I was truly a mindless heap by that point.

Parts of me were numb, my muscles ached in places I didn’t know they could ache, and that was before we were even finished.

My brain was a constant hum of contented sensations, my body bloated, sweaty, and clammy.

My hair was plastered to my head. I breathed heavily to stay conscious—there were a few moments where I had blacked out, my body oversexed and ruined.

I vaguely wondered if this new promiscuous side of me had not been borne from nothing, but rather from years of grief, pain, and misery, stretching all the way back to my childhood.

For the first time, I was taking what I wanted.

These three men were merely obstacles I needed to fuck to suit my purposes and needs.

Staring blankly up at the tarp from my back, I formed a crooked smile and snorted. I knew it was much more than that—more than simple pleasures of the flesh.

Vallan, Garroway, and Skartovius were offering me things I’d never had before. Choice, freedom, and power. How could I turn those down, especially when they mingled in conjunction with each other so easily?

I had the choice to do as I pleased, go where I wanted, the freedom to sleep with anyone willing, and the power to cause actual change in Olhavian and Nuhavian society if I played my cards right.

Up until this point in my young life, I had been betrayed at every turn. Whether human or vampire, I had learned not to trust anyone. My guard was always up.

These callous, monstrous men were starting to break my shield. I knew I couldn’t hold my breath and wait for things to work out. I had to be the difference I wished to see, in order to make the difference.

Now, I understood that. I had fallen for my captors, steeled my heart, and wouldn’t let anything break it, no matter what happened with these three.

As I lay in a naked, sweaty pile on the ground, attempting to recover from our hours-long activities, I coiled myself around Vallan and rested my head against his chest.

Peace fell around us. My heart stopped hammering. The sounds of miners working filled the space outside the tent, bringing us back from our isolated sanctuary in the middle of this mining camp.

I placed the letter Antones had given me on his chest. “What can you tell me about the veracity of this note, Vallan?”

He let out a low grumble, which made me smile. Dipping his chin as he unfolded the paper, he read it slowly then grunted. “Is this important to you?”

“It is.”

“Then we bring it up with Skartovius. I have no information about this.”

“Very well.” I had to accept his response, ready to move on. Night was ending and I had so many questions to ask Vall before he slept away the day. I slid my head along his chest, running my fingers over the puffy scars and divots of his formidable body.

“You want to ask me something now I’m naked, vulnerable, and satiated,” he said, reading my mind better than I could.

I chuckled with a slight nod. “You told me how different you and Skartovius are. What . . . what makes you stay with him and Garroway?”

He took a long moment to respond. For a minute, I thought he wouldn’t answer at all. Then I realized he was gathering his thoughts. The vampire was more introspective and thoughtful than I’d realized.

“Skartovius Ashfen was born into nobility, silverblood. That did not change when he was turned. If anything, his ambition and need for power only grew. I was not born into any such thing, as I told you. In fact, I was born in the same city you were.”

I stifled a gasp. “You hail from Nuhav?”

His beard ran against my forehead as he nodded. “Once, I was a gutter-rat like you. A homeless beggar and thief. I conscripted in the Nuhavian Freestanding Army after adolescence. I became a soldier.”

“You have the build for it. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Is that where you learned to blow things up?”

His grunt sounded amused this time. “It is. There is a reason I have a middling position here at the silver mines and I’m not handling a court like Lord Ashfen. ”

When he spit Skar’s title out, I winced. “You do not get along with the nobility,” I noted, feeling obtuse as the words left my mouth.

“Soldiering gave me purpose. Killing gave me purpose. It went away when I was captured during a far-off campaign and brought to Olhav.”

“Your trajectory sounds more and more like mine.”

“Indeed. I was held as a prisoner by vampires for years. Used for my brawn as a slave worker, and for pleasure by both women and men.”

I held back a growl, holding my breath. My heart hurt to hear the deadpan way he told his story, without emotion. I squeezed my hand over his chest and whispered, “True be true, Vallan, I’m so sorry.”

Part of me wondered where his story was going and how it related to Skartovius and my question of why he stuck around with the nobleblood. If anything, this tale made me believe Vallan had every reason to hate vampires, despite being one himself.

“Do not feel badly for me, girl. My life was no harder than yours. Being a soldier-turned-slave taught me many things. Not all of them good. It also gave me resilience and tenacity.”

“So what made you . . . how you are now?”

“Eventually, I caught the eye of a highborn vampire, and he turned me. His name is Barnabac Craxon. A well-known entity in Olhav. The Red Butcher, the Blood Baron. Whatever you want to call him, Barnabac is the minister of the Military Ward. One of the most dangerous vampires you will ever meet. Hopefully you never do.”

My eyebrows rose to try and meet my hairline. “Shit. This Barnaby fellow made you a nobleblood?”

“Barnabac. And not quite. Noblebloods like Skar are turned because they are already royalty. There are expectations. I was . . . an experiment, if you will. A mistake, even. Overlord Barnabac has a host of thralls, of which I am one. His focus is scattered because of his incessant need for more thralls, which has meant his power over me has thankfully dwindled over the years. It is through Barnabac that my bloodrage hails.”

He cleared his throat, falling silent. I had a feeling he had not spoken about this to anyone in a long time, if ever. Then he continued in his deep, rumbling cadence.

“Skartovius Ashfen is a means to an end, Sephania. We use each other for mutual benefit. I have no delusions of becoming a great vampire lord like he does, or trying to operate Olhav more efficiently. I simply want to watch it all burn.”

My lungs felt tight when he finished—so matter-of-fact, with his large shoulders shrugging. “Because of what the vampires did to you . . .” I eked out, trailing off.

“Because of the rape, the toil, the torture, and for stealing me from my friends and family for decades. I was used, turned, and my life was destroyed. Now I work in the shadows of the North Mines.”

“You can do a lot of damage from the inside,” I pointed out.

“Indeed, silverblood.” He patted my ass, his arm draped over my neck and resting comfortably on my side where I was curled against him.

“I am a practical man. I’m not a proponent of alchemy or magic and I don’t know what to believe about the Loreblood.

It’s one of the reasons I resisted your presence and treated you with suspicion. ”

“After what you’ve been through, it would be illogical to treat me any other way.

” I sat up, finally extricating my head from his collar where I’d been resting.

“So, Skar wants control over Olhav, and you want it to burn. Does he know you’re a self-loathing vampire who has machinations at odds with his? ”

He grunted. “Of course he does. I do not lie about my intentions to my brothers. I watch out for them and make sure they don’t get too big for their britches. There’s only enough room for one hulking brute in this outfit.”

I smiled and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips, running my hand through his beard. “And what a brute you are, Vallan Stellos. The best kind of monster.”

We returned to Manor Marquin the following night, after sleeping the day in the tent. It took many hours for me to recover from our intense affair. I still wasn’t sure I’d be walking without a limp when I left the North Mines.

Once nightfall came, we retreated to a nearby waterway to bathe.

Vallan expertly hooked some fish out of the river, which he cooked and fed me.

Of course, bathing naked together under a moonlit river spurred our libidos and forced our bodies to meld in another raucous session, but we didn’t go overboard this time.

From there, Vallan led me up the mountain and into Olhav, with a fresh supply of silver hidden away on his person.

“Do you require sacrifices every time you pilfer silver from the mines?” I asked on the way up the cliff.

“Not if it’s a small enough amount to go unnoticed.”

He averted his gaze, and I knew I’d touched on a rough subject. The memory of him killing Ethera was still stark in both our minds. The sick interfolk worker had sacrificed herself to aid Zefyra, who I had since met at the Chained Sisters’ abode.

I was content knowing Zefyra was privy to her lover’s outcome, had probably had a hand in agreeing to it, and Vallan wasn’t keeping dastardly secrets from his people. It showed me—even though Vall was brutal, unflinching, and cutthroat—he carried dignity and respect, even for the weakest among us.

The carriage was stuffed away not far up the mountain pass, unmolested. With Vallan leading the reins, it took a couple hours to reach the eastern outskirts of Olhav where Manor Marquin lay.

I could hear the voices of Skartovius’ flock coming from the windows of the spired mansion, even as far back as the country roads. We rolled past the courtyard to the eastern entrance where I would not be seen.