Page 12 of The Serpent’s Bride (Bloodlines #1)

“I’m not giving you a choice, brother. If you won’t let her go have fun, I’ll bring the fun here.” Lana giggled sweetly. “You’re right! It’s a much better idea. I’d hate for anything terrible to happen to our wonderful little Monica.”

Raziel growled, a sound that was not human. His canine teeth were longer than they were a moment prior. “I will not let you take over my home and?—”

Lana didn’t let him finish. “Well, it’s a good thing you won’t be here for it.

It’s a bachelorette party, after all. No boys allowed.

Well. No you allowed, anyway. There’ll be plenty of boys.

” She waved her hand dismissively at Raziel as she headed for the door.

“Anyway, I’m off! I have a party to plan. Bye now!”

The expression that Raziel wore was one of pure, unadulterated, and seething rage. He glowered at the back of his sister’s head as she left.

All right, maybe Lana wasn’t all bad. Anybody who could piss him off that badly had at least one redeeming factor.

With a snarl, Raziel pushed up from the sofa and stormed upstairs. Nadi sat there, watching the whole scene unfold. An echoing slam of a door told her that he wasn’t going to be bothering her anymore that night.

Smiling, she sat back in the chair and finished her drink.

This was a suicide mission—she was going to die, no matter if she succeeded or failed. But before that happened, she was going to take every possible opportunity to ruin Raziel’s life.

And damn it if she wasn’t going to have a little bit of fun in the process.

Monica was his. His!

How dare his sister breeze in and make designs on his home and his things! Raziel paced back and forth in his room, his muscles taut as he fisted his hair in his hands, yanking on the strands.

Lana always acted like the perfect princess and Mother’s favorite—namely because she was. Mael was the firstborn son and the heir to the throne. Lana was her mother’s joy.

Raziel?

He was the spare.

And at the moment, he wanted to hurt something.

He wanted to watch something bleed. He wanted to watch something suffer.

That was the only way to calm down his anger—to eke out his revenge on anything within range.

Part of him wanted to drag Monica into his bed by the hair and show her who she should be taking orders from.

But this wasn’t Monica’s fault. There was no stopping Lana when she got something into her head. And he knew, no matter what he said or did, Lana would be showing up the next night with a caravan of people for her “party.”

Now, that wasn’t to say he didn’t want to drag Monica into his bed for other reasons. Lana wasn’t wrong. The young woman who had stumbled into their family was a treat and a half. He wanted to taste her. To make her taste him. To show her exactly who and what he was.

But he had to wait.

He wanted to make Monica want it first. It was no fun to seize what he wanted—that particular game bored him now. He liked his playthings to crawl to his feet, begging for more.

Walking up to a wall, Raziel smacked his forehead on the hard surface. He needed to do something. He wouldn’t be able to sleep like this. If he couldn’t loose himself on Monica, he’d have to find something else to distract him.

His fangs were pricking the inside of his lower lip. He needed to kill.

Taking a deep breath, he cracked his neck from one side to the other and changed into a different outfit. Something a little more appropriate to cause mayhem in. A heavier wool peacoat that reached his ankles, and an all-black suit that he wouldn’t mind ruining when it became soaked in blood.

Throwing open the doors to the balcony off his bedroom, he stepped out onto the landing and took a deep breath of the chill night air. The stars were beautiful, framed by the two moons. The larger white one—the Father—was high in the sky, giving him plenty of light by which to see.

And hunt.

Tonight, he’d rip someone’s throat out and drain them dry.

It was considered bad form for a vampire to murder a human for blood.

Mael would have to smooth it out with the mayor and the police force when they found the body.

Not that anything about the kill would tie Raziel to the scene.

Even if Mael suspected Raziel, nothing would come of it.

For vampires were the superior species in the metropolis, and the humans knew it was because of the vampires that they were safe from the fae.

Without them, the humans would still be pets and servants to the hideous savages beneath the ground.

So, it was the least the humans could do to serve as food from time to time.

The least they could do was give up a spare life now and then.

They did breed like rabbits, it seemed. Always so many of them underfoot.

Spreading his arms, he dissolved his form into bats and took to the night sky.

Tonight, someone would die.

Tonight, he would drink his fill.

Even if, when he shut his eyes, it was her throat beneath his fangs.