Past the sounds, my heart pounds against my ribcage, as though it’s trying to break through skin and bone.
Something small crawls into my ear, and I shudder at the twinge of an itch I long to scratch. I let out a whimper, and soil fills my mouth, the earthy particles lodging in my gums and between my teeth. I close my eyes, and my movements grow more frantic. Kicking my feet beneath me urgently, I’m no longer sure which direction I’m moving. Maybe I’m burying myself deeper.
The throbbing ache in my bones surges as I reach up, and my fingers break free from the soil. With every bit of strength I can muster, I slam my hand into the earth, fingers digging into the dirt as I pull myself up.
My face breaks free, and the air trapped in my lungs erupts in fits of coughs as I spit out soil. My cries fade, engulfed by the captivating sound of a harp. Tears stream freely now, tracking lines of mud down my face, and I burn with frustration as I haul myself the rest of the way out and onto my knees.
Scratches carve across my body from the thorns, roots, and sharp rocks I swam through. I lean forward, resting my forehead on the mound of overturned dirt. White hair cascades over my shoulders, and as I run my fingers through the tips, I hear a throat clear.
I sit up to find three nightwalkers standing before me, their red eyes glowing in the night. On the left is a pale-haired nightwalker with a long face, a hooked nose, beady eyes, and a sharp jaw. He scans his black-painted fingernails with a disinterested expression, his white suit embellished with golden embroidered wolves glinting in the moonlight. In the middle is a woman with dark skin, short black hair, piercing eyes, and vibrant red lipstick. She is clothed in a long, black silk dress that hugs her soft, full curves, with a shimmering spider design that cascades down to her heeled boots.
When she catches me staring at her, she tips her red fedora with a smile.
“Kamai.” The nightwalker on the right. Dark circles rest beneath his crimson eyes, while even darker hair falls forward, casting a shadow over his face.
He is tall—the tallest of the three.
This nightwalker wears a black suit jacket that hangs from his shoulders, and the same frill-collared shirt I last saw him in, tucked into black pants. Beauty isn’t a word Iwould use to describe him. It simply fails to capture the perfection of this cold-hearted killer. When his gaze locks on mine, something primal stirs within me, making my cold blood run thick with anticipation.
With undeniablehunger.
“Music often lures the easiest prey,” he says, and I flinch as he moves past the other two. He leans closer, his crimson eyes on my neck. “Or frightens the more skittish creatures.” He reaches out to touch me, but I shuffle back and slide down the mound of dirt behind me. A hint of a smile settles on his face, and as he straightens, shadows cling to his shoulders. “I wonder,kamai. Which are you?”
My brow twitches. With a sudden flash of anger, ribbons the colour of moonlight break from the dirt, wrapping around the nightwalker’s wrists and pinning them above his head. Red eyes look on without concern until the other two step forward, and he says, “Suna.”
The other two nightwalkers withdraw, leaving me alone with the one who bit me.
Serun.
Energy pulses in the palm of my hand, and a surge of power rushes out of me at the words, “Ardulgyu prus urot.” A sword of rot materialises in my hand, blooming with red moonflowers, and I press the blade to the side of his throat, breaking the skin. A delicious fragrance wafts up my nose, and my mouth waters. Nightshade with a hint of lemongrass.
My gums ache, and thirst claws at my throat, the desiccation working its way deeper the closer I draw to him. Whatever heart I have left beats erratically at the memory of his blood flowing into me.
“Thirsty, Saya?” he says, the sound closer than expected. Even tied up, my ribbons holding him in place, it’s not his actions that become tangled, but mine. My mouth brushes his, and an undeniable lust burns to the surface.
Closing my eyes, I breathe, “Look at you, nightwalker. Prey caught in a dove’s nest.”
Serun’s lips trace a path across mine. “What if my intention was to be caught?”
Opening my eyes, my focus catches on his lips, and I move. Our mouths press together, and heat flares, like kindling right before it catches alight. I open wider, and he does the same, matching my rhythm.
Here, I am in control.
His tongue glides like liquid metal across mine, and a hungry rumble begins in his throat. A whimpering moan escapes me before I capture his bottom lip and bite down, tasting him. After a final slow lick, I suck in a sharp breath and thrust my blade into his chest.
Serun grunts, and as I step away, I watch as blood inks a wet path around the protruding blade. Those crimson eyes soften as he looks at me, and says, “Your not-lover has a way with words, I see.”
My eyes narrow as I take another step back. “It’s nothing personal,Serun, Lord of the Undercity. I just need you to die to know if this curse I was born with will break.”
With a sigh, he nods behind me and smirks. My ear twitches, and as I turn, my heart sinks. Serun stands there unharmed, head tilted and crimson eyes crinkling with amusement.
I turn back to the nightwalker I stabbed, and my jaw locks as darkness melts away, falling like ash, and the blade drops.
An illusion.
“You were never really there?” I ask as I face him. The urge to kill him is still palpable, but my powers waver, and my blade shatters into sparkling dust.
Shit, using my vegodian powers is still new to me. They come alive with anger, but fade too quickly.
