“You are out of practice,” my mother smirks, dragging the sword across my cheek as she glides around my chair, shaving the hairs without penetrating the skin. The cold blade against me is a warning, a promise. “You have been such a disappointment to me. When I plucked you from death on that battlefield, you were full of hate and malice. Now look at you, sitting in this castle painting your little landscapes and losing your mind over ahuman, when you should be leading my army to put down this absurd rebellion. Look at this.”
She picks up one of the few full bottles remaining at my feet, pulls out the cork with her teeth and sniffs. Her mouth wrinkles with distaste.
“This is foul. Death would be preferable to drinking this swill. No wonder you are weak.”
Her cruelty stings, but it’s far from the worst I’ve endured from her. I don’t blink as she drags the edge of the sword over my jaw. “Vlad the Impaler didn’t start impaling people until his thirties. I still have time to become the son you always wanted.”
“Your time is now, son. I saw your little plaything fleeing the castle with your Thrall.” She leans in close, her voice hissing against my skin. A smear of blood from her feeding earlier mars the corner of her mouth. “I take it that she found out what you are. Will you chase her down and kill her, or shall I?”
She yelps as I wrap my hand around her throat. She tries to cut me but she’s too close and I’m too fast.
The warrior inside me stirs to life. The battle for Winnie’s heart has been lost, but the war is not yet over.
I lift her easily, bending her wrist and flinging the sword away. She gurgles, clawing at my hand with her long, red-painted talons. Her eyes are wide in surprise. Not fear, never fear.
Sheshouldfear me.
I am, after all, her son.
Herblood.
I throw Callista across the room. She sails in a graceful arc, nearly scraping along the ceiling, before her backhits the wall with a loudSMACK. She crumples into a heap on the floor, momentarily stunned.
“You’llnothurt Winnie,” I growl.
She’s up and in front of me in a single human heartbeat, nose to nose, her lips curling back into a sinister smile. “There’s your warrior’s fire, son.”
“Stay away from her.”
“Your pet knows of us,” she whispers. “She cannot be allowed?—”
“She will not tell a soul.” (Except her book club, but my mother doesn’t need to know that. If Mina Wilde and Arabella Lestrange are members, then they already know.)
“Laws are laws.”
She knows about contraception. She knows that if we used it, there would be no danger of a Dhampir. But she doesn’t care because I’m not submitting to her will.
“Laws can be changed. I have never asked anything of you since I left the Nightshade Court. I have stayed out of your way as you blazed a path of destruction across Europe. But now you are inmyhouse, and Winnie is under my protection. Hurt her and I will make certain you regret it.”
My fingers close around her neck again, squeezing this time, enough so she can feel the power I wield. I may have an artist’s spirit, but I have never given up on my warrior training. I know too well that one’s greatest enemies will come when you believe you are safe behind your walls.
“You wouldn’tdare,” she glares back at me, her words rasping as I close off her throat. “The gravest sin a vampire could possibly commit is to kill their sire. Not even you, in your disgrace, would wish that torture upon yourself. If it weren’t for me, you would have bled out, alone and forgotten, buried in the mud of that battlefield, just another nameless corpse for the archaeologists to jizz themselves over.”
“You don’t know me at all.” My fingers tighten. The sword is within reach. I could do it. I could end her, endthis, right now. But then I would only be proving myself the monster. “Do not presume what I will or won’t do to keep Winnie safe.”
I release her, whipping out to grab the sword before she can take it again. I stab the tip into the floor, burying it several inches into the wood. The hilt quivers as I sink back into my chair.
Callista rubs her neck, and I hate the slow smile that creeps over her lips. “As you like it, son. It matters not if one human girl is screaming about vampires – they will think those smutty books she reads have addled her brain. She is gone from your life now, and as long as there is no Dhampir growing in her womb, all our plans can continue without drama.”
“Host your revels if you must, but leave me out of your machinations,” I growl.
“My ball needs a spectacle – a public show of the bond between the Nightshade and Midnight Courts. Youwillmarry Perdita before our guests, or I shall be forced to make that spectacle the trial and execution of my son for the crime of consorting with a human.” She glides towards the door. “Your choice, son.”
She leaves me in a cloud of my own rage.
I don’t care what happens to me. The old Alaric would welcome death, even the brutal execution dealt by the Mora for my crime. But Winnie is in danger. If Callista is willing to have me killed to make her point, then she won’t hesitate to kill Winnie.
I will not allow it. I will protect Winnie, even though she doesn’t want?—
