Page 87 of The Vampire Curse

Demon shit,that burns.

I press one hand to my bleeding shoulder and lean against the back of the sofa, fingers digging in as I try to stay upright. It shouldn’t hurt this bad.

“Get out of my way,” Alaric demands. “Stop this, this instant.”

“You cannot interfere,” Cassius’s cool voice responds. “I am sorry, my friend, but you know the law.”

The others are silent, choosing to remain complicit as Victor slaughters me.

I can’t think of Alaric right now. The only thing that matters is the vampire standing before me and staying alive.

Victor crouches in an unnatural pose and hisses before lunging. I push off the sofa and toward a nearby chair, putting it between us. It’s small and would shatter with little effort from any vampire, but it’s all I have. Victor doesn’t change course fast enough and runs into the sofa. His claw-like nails shred the material as he turns toward me.

With his natural speed, he should have caught me and snapped my neck before I knew what was happening… But the bastard is toying with me.

I blink, and he rips the chair from between us, flinging it into the wall. It shatters. Thousands of splinters fall to the ground.

The air is ripped from my lungs as I’m slammed against a bookcase. Victor smiles triumphantly. The black has swallowed up his eyes, the lines vein down his cheeks and over his temples. They continue to grow into his hairline and down his face.

The shelves dig into my spine. I can’t run, there is nowhere for me to go. So I do the only thing I can think of. I ram my forehead into his face, aiming for the spot right between his eyes.

The pain is nearly blinding. Black spots form and dissipate. My vision wavers for half a second, but it works. Victor stumbles back, grabbing his face.

I run, not caring what direction I go in as long as it’s away from him. My hip hits a table, sending a lamp and vase crashing to the ground.

His fist tangles in my hair and swings me around. I slam into the piano. The force of the collision knocks something off, sending it clattering to the ground. Victor wrenches my head back, bending my spine painfully against the instrument.

I claw at his hand and wrist, desperately trying to get free. I reach out, feeling around for anything to use as a weapon.

Victor trails one hand up my arm digging his blackened nails into the cuts. I cry out. My voice is cut off by his hand clamping around my throat.

“I will make your death slow and painful,” he says. Darkness moves in on the edges of my vision as his hold tightens. “I will savor each second as I break every bone in your weak, human body, and—”

My fingertips brush against something cool. I stretch until my fingers wrap around the metal object and swing. The candelabra strikes him in the temple. Victor arches back. He releases my head, but his fingers tighten around my throat.

I can’t breathe. I swing at him again, but he wrenches the candelabra from my hand.

I have nothing left. My nails dig into the skin of his wrist.

“You’ll pay for that, you little bitch,” he snarls.

“Clara,” Alaric’s voice grips at my heart. He’s so far away, almost a whisper. My ears ring, drowning out the rest of what he says.

Victor throws me to the ground. Air fills my lungs, burning on the way in. Victor’s foot strikes my ribs. I clutch my side as he gets down on his knees and straddles me. The black veins cover his face and move down his neck, and this time when he bares his teeth, they are all sharpened into points. He can rip out my throat without even trying.

“Cursed,” Della gasps.

Victor leans forward, placing his hands on either side of my head and caging me in, his thighs squeezing my hips and holding me into place. “I can’t wait to feel your true fear, hot on my tongue. I will drain every last drop from you before I’m finished.”

I reach for Alaric even though he’s on the other side of the room, held back by the others. He meets my gaze looking utterly helpless. I just want to hold his hand one last time. Hot tears slide silently down the sides of my face.

Victor drops his head and runs his blackened tongue over the three gashes on my shoulder. My back arches as I try to gasp for air through the pain. It feels like liquid fire.

“I will tear you limb from limb and feed your body to swamp rats.”

I curl my fingers, grasping for anything to hold onto.

Something smooth and familiar brushes against the back of my hand. I wrap my fingers around it, the weight and feel of it have become part of me. I jerk my arm, slamming it into Victor’s side.