My fury was not the burning flame it once had been in my youth. Now ice trickled through the holes Adrienne’s absencehad left and, with preternatural slowness, I rose to my feet. Images flashed through his mind of my mate, wrists chained together, dirt and blood smeared across her face. Memories of her screams as he fed, her infected wounds. Another memory: Adrienne crying out for someone, but he could not understand the name. Those nights were followed by the long silences when her screams had died and the light bled from her eyes.
“Eamon,” I growled.
He blinked. “My lord?”
I took another step forward. “The name she cried out. She was calling for her mate, forEamon.”
Even with all his immortal gifts, it still took a moment for understanding to click into place. When he thought of Samuel Raynott—a name I’d heard whispered a few times within the scum of the city for his trafficking of human blood givers—I did consider showing him a small bit of mercy.
“She…no. There’s no way. I did not sense—there was no bond. Her mother said…” He was babbling, retreating until his shoulders hit the cabinet with a clatter of crystal.
Another image of Adrienne corralled in a similar way, the fear on her face, her screams as he chased her through her apartment. I’d seen the wreckage, scented the unfamiliar blood from a wound I prayed to the goddess my mate had given him. My hand shot out to wrap around his throat, pinning him in place.
“Adrienne Valois ismine.”
Blood tears streaked down his cheeks. “P-please, mercy.”
But as I bit into his flesh and scented the blood that had been splattered across her apartment, I found I had none to give. I tore open his throat, savoring his scream before I shoved my hand through his breastbone. To a human it would have felt like sticking their hand in snow, but for a youngling such as him, his blood was warm against my skin. Iwrapped my hand around his heart, but I did not pull it free yet.
“Mercy would have been to hold the old woman who accrued the debt accountable instead of kidnapping her daughter. Mercy would have been to free her when she showed signs of having a mate. You are old enough to know them, Lucas. What are the signs of a human with an invoked blood mating?”
He spluttered, blood dribbling from his lips as the wound in his throat struggled to heal.
“That’s right. An aversion to another immortal’s blood. Illness if another vampire touches them. Immunity to compulsion.”
More tears. More brutal visions of my mate.
“Killing you quickly is a mercy you do not deserve,” I breathed, leaning in close enough for him to see the swirl of power in my eyes. “I can only entreat Keryes to ensure you live each moment of my mate’s torture for the rest of your soul’s existence in the underworld.”
“P-please, have mercy,” he repeated.
A bitter smile pulled at my cheeks as I flexed my hand.
“No.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Igroaned, rolling onto my side, only for pain to flare across my arm and chest.
“Do not scream,” a voice murmured near my ear.
The stench of unwashed hair and bodies filled the air. I froze, blinking in the dark. Nearby, water dripped and the sound of footsteps echoed overhead. It was almost pitch black, save for the light spilling through the crack outlining a door on the far side of the room. A thin hand slipped into mine, squeezing once.
“It’s okay, you’re okay.” The voice was barely more than a rasp that made me wonder if it was from disuse, or from screaming herself hoarse. “Just breathe.”
But that was the problem, I couldn’t quite catch my breath. “Where are we?”
The last thing I remembered was riding in the carriage with the male who had taken me from the townhome in Chynon. Somewhere along the drive I must have fallen asleep, but my mouth was dry and my head pounded with the beating of my heart. The bites the male had not healed pulsed sickeningly and when I reached out to brush my fingers over one, it was to find it raised and puffy.
“I’m not sure, to be honest…I’m sorry.”
Slowly my eyes adjusted until I couldjust make out the woman beside me. The hollows of her cheeks and eyes were pronounced and a dark bruise marred the pale skin of her jaw. Bites littered her throat and shoulder, and when she pushed back her lank hair my stomach roiled at the overlapping bites on her forearms.
The room swam as I tried to sit up. The woman soothed me in croons as I faltered. One bony arm came around my shoulders and she encouraged me to lie back down.
“You have a fever,” she explained, blotting at my face with a cloth before wrinkling her nose. “Sorry, I didn’t have much so I used a bit of my chemise. You were sick a lot. Um…don’t roll to your right, okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed.
