“How?”
Her voice was barely more than a whisper as tears tipped from her eyes. I brushed them away with my thumbs. This poison was utterly fatal to me. And because he carried my blood, it was lethal to Shane. The hemlock not only attacked my nervous system; it also stopped my blood from clotting. Regardless of his immortality, it would kill him. Not even someone as old as me could survive complete blood loss and paralysis. Yet, how the fuck his attacker knew that, when I was the only one alive who did, was terrifying. And I wasn’t easily terrified.
Long distant memories flooded my mind. My family had killed powerful and ancient demons, those Original vampiresthat had escaped from Hell and created all of our kind. They had become too vicious and blood thirsty, with no control over their lust for killing. And it had always been done with hemlock, the only guaranteed way to end them. Only I should have that dangerous knowledge. It should be long dead and buried with their ashes in the remotest corner of this world.
My heartbeat thudded a double rhythm, vibrating against my ribs. That split beat echoed in my ears as cold fingers of fear gripped my throat. Were Shane and Sor in more danger than I’d realised? Were we all?
I forced myself to breathe slowly. I hadn’t succumbed to fear since the day my family had been cruelly executed, and a usurper had taken the Blood Throne with his army of Mades. They’d turned my home into a bloodbath. No one had been exempt from the slaughter. My wife, my children, my brothers and sisters in arms, they had all perished. The only survivor, besides me, had been a tiny child of less than a year old who, on my order, had been hidden beneath a drain in the throne room by his mother.
I’d fought and killed that day until my body shook, but ultimately, there’d been too many of them. I’d been weakened with blood loss and overwhelmed by their sheer numbers.
I clenched my teeth as a sharp phantom pain lanced my chest. I’d never forget it. The agony as they drove a stake into my heart then ripped it free, laughing and jeering as I bled out. I’d lain on top of that drain cover, my blood hitting that babe’s lips until I bled no more. They’d set my home alight and left me for dead. But I was hard to kill. A fact they’d neglected to fully consider.
The old crone had found me and the child, burned and barely alive. Cackling like it was the most amusing thing she’d ever done, she’d given me her blood, and in turn, I’d fed the child. I’d slowly recovered from my injuries and burns, and bided mytime, living in the shadows and keeping a low profile. I raised Stefan and slowly built my army and a legion of supporters. For hundreds of years, we spread the word that one of the Korlov Korolevski bloodline was alive, and that there was a true descendant of the Original gods alive, whose rightful place was upon the Blood Throne. We gained more and more supporters who were ready to believe there was a saviour who would rid the world of the bloodthirsty false king.
When our enemy had become arrogant enough to believe he was indestructible, I led our army into battle and killed him and all of his followers. It had given me more pleasure than I’d ever admit to bleed each one until they were too weak to move, and then listen to their screams as they burned alive. Unlike them, I made sure all my enemies were dead before I walked away.
Stefan Korlov Korolevski was in power because of me. I’d put him on the Blood Throne. I’d protected him for nearly a millennium, making sure he kept it. He was a good king. Ruthless when he needed to be, and benevolent to those who deserved his respect and kindness. I had no interest in sitting on the Blood Throne; I never had.
Now, I had an empire that was more than big enough to satisfy my need for power, and an army of loyal followers who would die for me and each other. Yet, I’d constantly felt as though I was waiting for something—or someone, an emptiness in my soul that had only grown as each year passed. Until Shane and Sor had barrelled into my life, and the old crone's cackling prediction, right before she bade me to end her life, had roared in my ears.
Had they poisoned Shane, knowing that, because he had my blood in his veins, it would kill him, or was it a coincidence? I took a steady breath. Unlikely. I didn’t believe in coincidences. Destiny had caught up with us all. They had used a different poison in Sor because they knew what she was.
“It’s not me who can save him, little bird. This time only you can.”
24
Sorcha
“Me?”Surely I’d misheard him.
“Yes, you. Your blood.”
“Mine?” I shook my head.
“Yes, sweet girl, you. Your blood is special.”
I huffed, anger bubbling in my belly. “Now isn’t the time to joke, Count. It’s not funny. I know I’m only human…”
“No, little bird, you’re not human. You are a witch by birth. And only a witch's blood is immune to the effects of hemlock. I suspect that’s why they used a different poison on you. Your attack was to distract me. They were after him. You can save him, Sor. Only you.”
My brain short-circuited. “I…what? A witch? No, you must be mistaken. I’m human. Gods, Bal. Don’t do this, don’t mock or tease. Shane deserves better. So do I. Save him. Please.”
He touched his heart, a look of utter sincerity on his face. “I’m not lying. Why would I when Shane’s life is on the line? I may be a cold-hearted bastard to those I don’t care about, but Iwould never put either of your lives at risk. Not if I don’t have to. I’m not lying. You are a witch, and your blood can save him.”
I stared at him, my mouth opening and closing as I processed his words. His beautiful eyes were guileless. I had no doubt that someone as ancient as Balthazar Rossi could lie through his teeth yet appear innocent, but this wasn’t about me or whether I believed him. If there was even a minute chance I could save Shane, I’d do it.
“Tell me what to do.”
His smile of approval did strange things to my stomach.
“I need to get your blood to his heart. And, as he can’t feed and ingest it, we are going to have to do it directly.”
“What? How on earth are you going to do that?”
His grim look didn’t do anything for my already churning stomach. He ripped Shane’s shirt open, revealing the chiselled chest that I’d lain against every night since the three of us had been together.
“I need you to stay strong for me. Okay?”
