“I said release my Familiar!” Knox slams his fist onto the table, and I hear Damon’s unmistakable laugh from outside of my perspective.
Egor doesn’t seem to like that I’m not acting doe-eyed and flirtatious like all the other dumb fucks in here. I’m not someone who basks in the wonder and magic of immortality.
I keep trying to move. The sheer force of resisting Egor’s compulsion makes my body shake and my teeth clench. I no longer feel fear. I feel nothing but fucking rage.
Knox kicks his chair backwards as he stands up. I hear the wood shatter behind me, but not the words he angrily spits at Egor. With a flutter of her eyelids, Megan begins to go limp in Egor’s arms.He’s killing her in front of everyone and nobody is going to stop him.This woman has a family, friends, and probably a job. Yet nobody knows she’s here. And nobody here will mourn her.
I feel Egor’s concentration finally begin to slip, and a tiny tear forms in the compulsion. I focus on that rip and urge it to grow.
Knox continues shouting, and I think someone else is, too, but everything sounds muffled like I’m underwater. I feel like I have an anchor tied to my ankle while I struggle to swim up to the surface. When I think about kicking the anchor off of me, my toes wiggle. Something hot pours from my ear and drips down my neck. And that’s just enough for Egor to notice that he fucked up.
Another tear appears in the compulsion, and I have him. His hold on me loosens. I concentrate so hard that my brain might burst out of my skull. The anchor chain around my ankle slips free. Then I feel everything. I can move again.
I take in a deep breath and let out a laugh. Judging by looks on the faces of those fuckers, I wasn’t supposed to be able to move.
But instead of launching an attack on Egor like I want to do, my body slumps down into the chair. Knox catches the back of my head with his hand before I can hurt myself.
It’s like I’ve fallen from a cliff and smashed into the rocks at the bottom. Every inch of my body aches from the effort it took to break the compulsion. I don’t protest when Knox picks me up bridal-style from the chair.
“Oh, don’t go,” Damon calls after us. “It was just a bit of fun. Don’t spoil it, Knox. She’s just a Familiar.” His tone is light and haughty as if I didn’t just watch someone almost get murdered at the dinner table.
Knox looks back when we reach the door, his jaw clenched so tight I worry it might shatter into a million perfect pieces. “I may be powerless now, but as soon as my father retires, the first thing I’m going to do when I claim the throne is destroy you, Egor. You may be older and stronger now, but the clock ticks away even down here.”
Laughter echoes throughout the room. Knox’s threat is taken no more seriously than a child impulsively throwing a tantrum. Then the ear-piercing sound of a chair scraping across the floor makes the room fall quiet. A voice I don’t recognize fills the silence.
“The rope is tied. There will be no undoing it. The shadows of that girl will be your downfall, Knox.”
The voice is softer than the others, older and wiser than I’ve heard before. A voice of thousands rolled into one. Still weakened, I keep my eyes on Knox, watching his brows furrow at the strange man’s words.
“Let them pass, Alaric.” I recognize Cyprian’s voice. “You will over exert yourself, old friend. Sit and drink so that you might tell me more of what you’ve foreseen.”
Foreseen? Is Alaric some kind of prophet?
Knox rolls his eyes in a particularly dramatic fashion as he turns and exits the room. The hushed voices fade as we head down the corridor.
Hot liquid continues to drip from my ear and I worry it’ll stain my dress. I look up at Knox. His pupils are fully dilated and his face is contorted in a way I never thought possible.
He looks like a monster.
His brows are lower, thicker, and are more pronounced than they were a second ago. The lines around his face are deeper, making him look older and menacing, yet still somehow young and concerned, all at the same time.
So that’s why I haven’t recognized my mother’s killer down here yet…
“What’s wrong with your face?” I ask, my eyelids growing heavier with each step.
“You’re bleeding,” he growls.
Sharp fangs protrude from his mouth. He looks utterly terrifying.
Then why don’t I feel afraid? Why do I feel safe and protected, like the entire hotel could come crashing down on us and I wouldn’t get hurt?
I know in my bones that he’ll do anything to make sure I’m safe. He’d take the blow of every falling rock if it meant I wouldn’t get hurt. Butwhydo I feel this way?
“Are you going to kill me?”
I don’t know why I’m asking. Not like I’ll get a straight answer. But the scent or sight of my blood has an effect on him. It made his usual handsome mask slip involuntarily into a truth that lies just behind his crimson eyes.
If this is how vampires truly look, why didn’t Egor’s face change when he bit into that woman’s neck?
