I breathed out against his ear. His resulting jerk to try to move away made me smile. For all his bravado, Victor Hamilton was as easily frightened as any other lesser vampire. My reputation for having no morals or compassion for my enemies was always helpful. Sometimes, I would toy with my prey, touch them and humiliate them with their body’s responses. But this time, I had no desire to be closer to him than was necessary. So I struck.
His foul-tasting blood hit my tongue, and I forced myself to swallow and my venom to flow. My stomach churned, and for the first time in an age, I wanted to throw up from the blood sitting heavily in my stomach. I forced more venom into him, and as soon as his swearing turned to lust-filled moans, and his pelvis started grinding forward, I retracted my fangs, spitting his foulness out onto the ground.
I moved to face him, and his hooded, glazed eyes tracked me, his engorged erection thrusting up towards his stomach. Twin rivulets of blood pulsed down his neck and chest. With the amount of venom I’d just given him, he wouldn’t heal. He could bleed out for all I cared.
Similar groans to Victor’s echoed behind me, but I ignored them. Keeping my hold on Victor’s head, I hovered my mouth above his, breathing a fine mist of magic between his lips. I had a very specific and unique skill that I’d mastered over time—turning the venom in my body into a vapor. Once inhaled, it meant that while I fed, I could guide the venom with ease into my victim’s brain and enter their memories.
He inhaled with panting, desperate breaths, his hip pushing against my other hand, where I held him distant from my body.
“Do you want more, Victor?” I crooned in a sultry voice full of promise. His pained moan and the desperate punch of his pelvis against my grip were answer enough. “Tell me who your master is and I will give it to you.”
Victor’s eyes briefly cleared, hate burning in them. “Fuck. You.”
I smiled. “No, never. But I may let others you have wronged use you before you die.”
I stepped behind him and struck again, searching out my venom and pushing it towards his brain. But there was something there blocking me. A spell. Fuck. A witch. He’d been right, I couldn’t see his memories, not until I unravelled thatspell. I pushed in more venom, making his lust worse before I once again withdrew. His mind might be locked up tight in the useful parts, but his base desires were still working. I tried again. “Tell me who gives you your orders.”
“I can't.” He panted, his writhing desperate. I released my hold, not wanting to touch him for a moment longer than necessary. Standing in front, I stared. His eyes were glazed and hooded, the red ring around his pale-blue irises pulsing. That look was not unique. His eyes were the standard colour of all Mades, a telltale sign of their vampiric transformation.
“You can, Victor. Tell me everything that you know about who is running this war, and what their plans are, and this humiliation will stop.” I steeled myself and moved forward to grip his erection. He moaned and moved desperately in my touch. I let him for a moment, then, as his movements became erratic and more desperate, I released him. Perhaps this form of torture would be seen as cruel and unacceptable to many species, but I was too old to feel much about it. Manipulating someone’s body and its reactions was an effective weapon when needed.
Victor half snarled, half moaned. “What the fuck? Let me come, you bastard.”
I gave a cold smile. “Why would I do that? You have given me nothing, nor can you give me anything unless you choose to, which is unfortunate for you because this kind of torture is something my men excel at…”
“No! You evil fucker!”
“That I am, Mr Hamilton. I don’t pretend otherwise. I, of course, have a good idea who my enemies are after such a long existence. But there are others, newer threats, that lurk in the shadows, too cowardly to face me directly.”
Victor’s erection began to wane as my venom wore off. It was a pity the nasty feeling of his blood in my stomach didn’t disappear as quickly.
His eyes cleared, and he sneered. “You have no idea who your enemies are, Balthazar. Your memory is fading, just as your alliances are. You don’t recall who I am. And if you can’t remember me, how would you remember who has wronged you, or who you have wronged over the years? You have more enemies than the leaders of all the other supernatural races combined. You are the scourge of this world, with your power and riches, with your tolerance of humans, and intolerance of your own kind.” He laughed. “Damn, you even rescued a used and pathetic female from an Original. You insulted him in his own home. One of your own kind, and for what? To fuck that used piece of pussy? I’d have thought you were beyond such….”
I sighed...and punched him in the nose. Bone crunched, and he howled as it shattered. A crass but effective way to shut him up. I didn’t have time for his verbal lashing. It wasn’t anything new. Every prisoner I tortured had a similar repertoire of shit they spouted. But insulting Sorcha, who had done nothing to hurt anyone, and was one of the kindest souls I’d met in my long lifetime, even after all that she had endured, was intolerable.
“I remember you well enough, Victor. You were my human stable hand in 1594. I refused to turn you because I knew you’d become a selfish, vicious, and power-hungry Made. And you have proved me right. Tell me, who eventually gave in to your begging? Whose house do you really belong to? Will that give me the puppet master, I wonder?”
“You’ll never find out.”
I shrugged, hiding my frustration. “It will take me a while, that’s true. But like I said—I have an immortal life span and plenty of techniques in my arsenal.”
“I’ll never talk, not before we ruin this world and take the throne, you fucker.”
“We’ll see.”
I turned away from him, suddenly tired. I hadn’t replenished all the blood Shane had taken, not completely—and after using my strength for speed and fighting, I needed more. I also needed to get rid of Victor’s rotten taste from my mouth. Sor’s blood had been like sipping on a fine wine, sweet and fruity; heady in a way that had given me a strange kind of bliss, as if I’d been infused with peace. It was an addictive feeling, one I’d desperately wanted to indulge in, but I’d been frightened of harming her and bringing back the terrifying memories of her time with Nikolai. She had no memory of some of the things he’d done to her because I’d compelled her to forget them. I’d taken those memories without her knowledge. I didn’t feel bad for it, but the tightness in my chest when I thought about how angry she would be if she found out was…unsettling. I huffed at my thoughts. Her anger and disappointment over such a thing would be overshadowed by my future actions, eventually, anyway.
The other prisoner hung limp, blood dripping on the floor from a huge wound over his carotid artery. I felt nothing. He’d infiltrated my home with the express purpose of betraying me. He was lucky to die so quickly.
“Anything?” I didn’t really expect any success, but still, I was compelled to ask.
“Nothing much. He said he was raised and trained by a coven of Originals that always wore masks. He never saw their faces. They had heavy accents, but all different, so that’s no help. No identifiable clothing. In short, he was brainwashed from when he was a small child and had no interest in doing anything other than his mission, which was to infiltrate us. His papers must have been exceptional forgeries because I had no reason to believe they weren’t legitimate. His background checks wereflawless. He was contacted three weeks ago and instructed to provide daily updates to a mobile number regarding you, Shane, and Sorcha. To tell them any developments in your interactions with them both, what their routines were and when they were alone.”
A slow blink was all the reaction I’d allow myself. Victor was right. My enemies knew the two souls I kept close meant something to me. They didn’t know what, but they were willing to use Shane and Sorcha in any way they could, especially if it made me careless and reactionary. Emotions made a warrior weak on the battlefield. A leader, even more so. I stuffed my anger and fear deep down as I looked at the small screen Dav held out. A sequence of numbers glared back at me. I quickly memorised them. The phone number was more than I’d gotten from Victor.
“I trust you’ll investigate it thoroughly. If you struggle to find anything, Walker and maybe Prince Ventry will have technology that might help trace it.”
Dav’s nostrils flared, but he nodded. Damaging his pride by asking the exiled fae king or his son for help, wasn’t as important as finding out where those instructions came from. We both knew that.
