Page 103 of The Vampire's Mercy

Why my feet brought me back to the door of my chambers, I didn’t know.

CHAPTER THIRTY

PARIS

Medusa slept beside me on the king’s bed, her body pressed against mine.

I liked her being there.

The wild knots in my chest weren’t for her, but for Sarah’s revelation. My brain was too overloaded to cope, but the anxiety and the hope ran rampantly, drowning out my fear over this damn curse thing.

I drew luck down my chest and sat cross-legged, using the essence of the bedroom’s flora to keep me steady.

Freedom’s coming.

The floral essence flowed into my body like a stream of gentle sparks crackling in my veins, filling me up with a happy glow, boosting my mood and my body. It joined the heat of Silvanus’s blood doing its own snap, crackle, and pop still—a lingering radiance that pissed me off and made me crave more of him at the same time.

Damn this being a thrall shit. The bloodthirst for the king curdled my insides.

And I had three days until I needed his blood again.

Would the attack come before or after then?

I drew more luck, hoping against hope it happened first. Because drinking blood… By Aidan, what a gross sin.

Getting out of here might mean never getting answers to the weirdness. Or it might get figured out later. Whatever. I didn’t care. I’d rather be myself again, not at the mercy of King Prick.

Only, I kind of doubted myself.

I do want to know…

I rolled my shoulders, performing some deep breathing exercises. Relaxing, focusing. If I couldn’t untangle my thoughts, I’d throw soothing, metaphysical balm on them instead.

It wasn’t working. So I went to the floor, resting back on the bed, the grass tickling me in greeting. I lit up a cig, the first drag super soothing.

Ah, much better.

Closing my eyes, I allowed myself the space to mediate. I used to do this all the time with Pearl, but hadn’t been able to quite pull it off since her death. Too many flashes of her death would skewer me, shattering the flow.

Empty,I thought.Let your mind be empty.

I smoked, I drifted.

“Precious one…”

The voice shivered in my mind.

No, no, no. Only tranquility here. I focused on a happy image. My sofa, my flowers, chilling out on a Sunday. Lazy Sundays were the best, and Hal made amazing roast dinners. The man really knew how to make the roast beef melt in your mouth.

Hal. The traitor. The coward. The steaming pile of shit.

No! Relax!

I wriggled in the grassy carpet, dropping the lazy Sunday stuff. Pictured myself in my own flower shop instead, all happyand laughing with my customers. Building myself a reputation as the best florist in Quintrealm.

Ha! Imagine that! Having a little shop people flew all over the world to visit.

Man, what an awesome goal.