Page 22 of The Vampire’s Mercy (Blood Melody #1)

“I see.” I rocked on my heels, checking around me again for anything I might have missed, but came up empty.

“What happens next?” I asked Elio.

“You bathe, you dress, you take the tour.” He flashed me a friendly smile I immediately didn’t trust. My instinct wasn’t to trust easily, but something about this guy strengthened that distrust. Like he was hiding something behind his formal kindness.

But a tour would be good. I’d get to know the lay of the palace for potential escape routes.

Give me any secret tunnels and all that awesome stuff, please.

“Okay,” I said. “Lead the way.”

He looked me up and down. “Are you okay?”

I caught myself tapping my foot. “As well as I can be after, well, you know.”

He steepled his fingers under his chin. “I don’t know the full story yet. But I know it’s been a difficult night.” He shook his head. “Our poor king. Those rebels are a disgrace.”

“Rebels?” Those vamps on the causeway.

Elio sighed. “Don’t worry about that. Are you hungry?”

Hmmm. Vampire rebels could prove to be useful if they had the power to make any sort of impact. I’d keep my ears pricked for any potential usefulness to get me the hell out of here.

“Famished,” I answered, patting my exposed belly. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any mistrock cigs to hand?”

“I can get you some.”

“Thanks. So, where is our king?”

“Asleep. His bed lowers into the ground during the day.”

What? Down into a snug pit of Hell? “Awesome.”

He regarded me with cold, hazel eyes. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Elio went west, or at least our west, leading me down the corridor. There really weren’t any doors or windows, the damn hallway seemingly endless.

Until it wasn’t.

The lights turned red, the walls closing in. I turned at a sound behind me, an onyx wall sliding into place to block the way we’d come.

“What happened?”

“A marvel of vampire engineering.”

The ground trembled, my stomach lurching at the sensation of moving down in an elevator.

“Once we’ve established your wardrobe, we will eat breakfast,” Elio explained. “You’re not permitted to leave his chambers without me as an escort. His Majesty has assigned me with the responsibility to take you to and from your meals.” He bit his bottom lip for a moment, then smiled.

“Are you worried?” I asked.

“About what?”

“Hanging around me.”

The elf shook his head. “Your life has changed beyond all measure. You don’t belong to yourself now, but to him.” His smile was so wide it could’ve split his face in half.

“And that’s a good thing?” I grimaced.

“Being a thrall is a blessing,” he answered snootily, this elevator thingy still descending. “You’ve been given such a precious gift some can only dream of.”

Meaning I should be super grateful and kiss his arse?

That arse would be fun to kiss.

Silence, prick!

“To share in his blood is extraordinary,” he added. “Like nothing else in this world.”

My newly acquired bloodthirst stirred, ready for more of the king.

I wiped my mouth, my turn to bite my lip.

Rejecting him came with the desire to serve, the two in constant flux. One didn’t dominate the other, both made my skull ache.

I have to get out of here…

The elevator stopped, the wall sliding away to reveal another corridor identical to the first one.

“These corridors will be endless for you,” Elio said, walking on. “Without the proper access, you’ll get lost and die.”

“Right,” I said, far from impressed.

So, no one could just rock up to the king’s bedroom and knock on his door to knock his fangs in? Got it.

No fun.

“An executioner came here once, stormed the walls, reached these corridors,” Elio continued. He stopped walking, facing me with a stern expression. “It took her three weeks to starve to death. She went mad, screaming, clawing at the walls. Begged for mercy.”

My fingers twitched in response, craving some violence. I tensed, wondering if it was Glenda Green.

No…the thrall shit told me.

I pushed my shoulders back. “Noted. No attempts at wandering.”

The elf nodded, seriousness all over his face. “He told me what you are. I don’t want to offend you, but I’m shocked you’re here.” He clutched the base of his throat.

Erm, he did want to offend me, the lying shit.

“Far be it for me to question His Majesty,” he added, “but you’re a potential poison in our home. One I will destroy if you hurt him.”

Me thinks you’re a little smitten. “Got it. I won’t. I can’t anyway.”

I felt bad for him for feeling like this. That scumbag king had infected his mind, turning him away from Aidan.

“But you are an executioner, thrall or not.”

You got me there, Elio. “Yeah, like a lion with no teeth or claws.”

He smacked his lips. “Just don’t ruin our lives.”

Silvanus really had him under the thumb.

I hope you find your way back to Aidan’s light, I prayed for him.

“Okay,” I said, not sure what else to add without pissing him off. I needed to keep a low profile, assess, and plot. Maybe even make a friend. Whatever helped get me out of here.

But the blood, the blood, the blood…

Oh, and figure out how to break the thrall bond with no idea how. I did know that the king was the only vamp able to make a thrall. Therefore, the solution sat with him.

Ugh.

Elio carried on walking.

I kept pace with him. “So, what’s your story?”

“Freshen up first.” He stopped, turning to face a wall and pressed his right hand to it, a screen coming to life in the black stone.

Red lights surrounded his hand, blinking in turn, picking up speed until they became one blur of light shooting around his fingers.

A door opened into another corridor, which we didn’t walk too far down before Elio repeated the wall-touching steps, taking me into a massive bathroom of white marble and gold accents, a large, curved window facing the blue ocean and skies of a sunny day.

Again, the sunlight pooled against the glass, a faint film of gold light swirling against it.

I felt its warmth, though. Lifting my arms to it, a thrall still able to walk in the sun.

“The palace is protected from the sun,” Elio said without me asking.

“I guessed that already,” I mumbled.

“You have half an hour to get dressed and choose your outfit.” Elio pointed to a door on my left. “That’s the changing room with clothes already picked out for you. There are towels there, too.”

“In my size?” I asked, scratching my itchy scalp. “Are they likes yours?”

“Yes to both,” he said. “Think of it as your uniform.”

“Awesome.” As long as it wasn’t a crop top, I was good. “But won’t one uniform get a bit smelly?”

He tittered. “You will always have enough.”

“Oh.”

“It’s important to look good.”

“Okay. How many thralls are here?”

“Enough to serve and care for the palace. And enough to cover the day shift as guards.”

I hadn’t seen a single guard or servant on the walk here. But I guess that was the point of those maze-like corridors.

Hmmm. I guess I wouldn’t ever be trusted enough to get an access touch or whatever. But there were always windows and balconies to use.

Observe. Scheme. Aim for freedom.

Elio left me to it.

In the right corner was a white bathtub and a white shower cubicle, both with gold accents, and a toilet beside them for us mortals.

I checked the dressing room, finding white walls, golden benches, and three gold wardrobes. White towels had been laid on one of the benches, and a uniform hung in the middle wardrobe.

Ugh. Did I really have to wear that? It looked just like Elio’s, but with purple trousers, a purple brocade jacket, and an amethyst choker. There was also a pair of dark purple leather boots, and a fresh set of lavender underwear.

I wrinkled my nose at the pretty clothes, grabbed a towel, and headed for the shower.

Inside the marble cubicle, which was bigger than my kitchen, I found an array of shampoos, soaps, and shower gels. I picked one that smelled of strawberries, clicked on the water, and enjoyed the hot spray.

Man, that felt so, so good. The heat unknit my muscles with aqua kisses, the shower gel lathering up into a riot of pinkish suds. I scrubbed the matching shampoo into my scalp, washing away the grime of the night before.

Massaging conditioner into my tresses, I got to thinking about the ice, the blade, the weird tower dream—everything that’d brought me to this moment.

I wasn’t sure how to process it outside of being totally bewildered. None of it made any sense, just like the thing with Silvanus on the causeway.

What happened to him down there?

Whatever. As long as being here ended with him dying, nothing else mattered. Only the good fight did.

The trick was to not let anything break me, to keep every emotion in check. The moment I fell apart, I’d sink too deeply into the mire. And I wasn’t having that shit.

I’m built for this, I thought.

“You’re sweetcream,” I said out loud, drawing luck down my chest. “You’re sweetcream.”

Always sweetcream…