“What? Woke up? How—” the question died on my lips as Thorne walked in. He should’ve been dead. The memory of his throat torn wide open flashed through my mind.
My mouth gaped, words lodging somewhere between shock and disbelief. But there he stood, wearing his small smile that seemed to mock the dance with death we’d had. In his hand, he held a cup, offering it to me with the casual air of someone delivering morning coffee.
“Here,” he said, pressing the cup into my hands. My fingers curled around it, the cool surface grounding me in the moment. It was just a cup, filled with what I assumed was water, but even the sight of it stirred something primal within me. My nostrils tingled over the faint tang of iron that wafted past.
“Thanks,” I muttered. Thorne’s smile widened, a spark of something unreadable in his eyes. He took a step back, nodding toward the cup.
“Go on,” Thorne encouraged, nudging me with a look.
I didn’t need further prompting; I was fucking parched. Tipping the cup to my lips, I drank eagerly, expecting the bland taste of water to wash over my tongue.
My senses burst into a needy frenzy.
The liquid slid down my throat, rich and full of a life that was no longer mine. I sat up straighter, clutching the cup like a drug I needed more of.
The world around me sharpened into focus with every swallow. It was blood—warm, vital, impossibly satisfying blood—and I drank it down greedily, the void within me closing with each gulp.
I realized all too soon that the cup was empty, the last drop savored and gone. My body hummed with energy, a calm settling over the frenzy that had gripped my insides moments before. I licked my lips unconsciously, tasting the coppery tang that lingered.
“Thorne,” I gasped out. “What is happening?” I looked at my brother, who didn’t quite look himself.
“He’ll explain everything,” Thorne said as he nodded toward Bastian.
Bastian reached out and took the cup from my trembling hands. His touch was light, almost reverent, as if he understood the significance of the moment better than I did.
“That should hold you off for a little while,” he murmured, an unreadable expression crossing his features.
The words sank in, heavy and undeniable. What I had done…
Bastian’s gaze was steady, his voice almost gentle as he delivered the truth. “You both are vampires now,” he said in an even tone, doing his best to keep me calm. “I changed you in the woods before you died. Every lore or belief you’ve ever been told is probably real—vampires, werewolves, witches, and more. They all exist among mortals.
“Here are the ground rules,” Bastian continued, “We do not kill humans. We simply feed and then compel them to forget and move along on their way.”
Not kill. Feed and forget. His words settled into the pit of my stomach like a cold stone of responsibility.
“Compel?” It was then that the door creaked open, and she entered—a woman in a maid’s uniform. My body tensed involuntarily, every fiber attuned to the rapid cadence of her heartbeat. It filled the room like a drumbeat, insistent and overwhelming.
Beside me, Thorne shifted, his eyes wide as he too seemed ensnared by the sound. With a swift, uneasy movement, he slid across the mattress, distancing himself.
“Scarlet, darling,” Bastian called out, his tone both commanding and gentle. “Could you demonstrate for us? Jump out of the window.”
There was a sickening dread knotting in the pit of my stomach as I witnessed her compliance, her actions devoid of any trace of resistance. It was as if a veil had fallen over her eyes, obscuring her will and replacing it with Bastian’s command.
I held my breath as she approached the window, her movements unnaturally smooth, her gaze fixed and distant. Panic surged through me as she reached for the latch, my mind reeling with the horrifying realization of what was about to happen.
With a trembling hand, she pushed the window open, the cool breeze brushing against her skin. My pulse thundered in my ears. Luckily the sun shone toward the other side of the room, away from us.
But just as Scarlet stood on the precipice, ready to obey Bastian’s every word, he finally spoke, his command slicing through the tension like a blade.
“Stop,” Bastian commanded.
Scarlet stepped down and away from the window. The simplicity of it, the sheer ease with which he wove his will around her actions, was as mesmerizing as it was terrifying.
“Thank you. You’re dismissed.” His voice was gentle but firm.
“Yes sir,” she replied, looking a bit confused as to why she was standing by the window before her footsteps retreated back out of the room.
The silence stretched, heavy and expectant, as Bastian’s words sank into the marrow of my bones. Thorne eased himself onto the bed beside me, his presence my only support.
