My servants delivered my daily blood to me in a jug. I never chose my prey, and I certainly didn’t hunt them down in the streets. Which was fine. That was the Trojan—or the Titan—way. It was my duty to protect the humans, and I couldn’t do that if I treated them like quarry.
But sometimes…sometimes I imagined what it would be like to sneak up behind one, how it would feel to set my blood ablaze and chase them around bends and over bridges. Closer and closer until I trapped one in my grip and sank my teeth into the delicious flesh of their neck.
Achilles slowed as he approached the open doors, holding up a hand as a signal to pause. I followed his lead and came to a stop just behind him. Heart pounding, I looked around his steel-clad shoulder. The room was…empty.
I heaved a sigh. “Well.”
“Odd.” Achilles clanked his way into the room. “There’s no one here.”
“Maybe the screaming was coming from elsewhere.”
He glanced around. “No, it originated from here. I’m certain of it.”
“You can hear that well through your helmet?”
“Shh.” He pressed a finger to his lips—or the spot on his helmet where his lips might be. Cocking his head, he inched further inside the room, but the rattle of his armor definitely wasn’t anywhere near silent. I motioned at him to stop and let me go first, but he either didn’t notice or he explicitly ignored me.
He clanked past the table, then ducked through the archway. I followed him into the kitchen, where a fire roared in a hearth, spilling light across a work table covered in an array of chopped vegetables.
And a puddle of blood, fingers of red stretching across the floor. I sniffed. The scent of iron perfumed the air. It was fresh. And from a mortal.
My teeth ached as hunger tore through my gut. Red mist clouded my eyes.
Achilles made a choked sound and backed away. “I can’t. Partake. When I’m on duty.” Then he whirled on his feet and ran.
I frowned after him. If Zeus didn’t allow his guard to feed, there was no telling how withered he was by now. I was impressed he was able to even move around in that thing, as weak as he must be. No wonder he held so little control over his bloodlust. A hungry vampire could transform into a wild thing. I’d witnessed it myself, during one of the few times a vampire of Troy hadn’t yielded to my mother’s commands.
Shaking my head, I turned back to the blood and knelt beside it. I drew my finger across the slick surface, brought it to my lips, and tasted it. Another aching wave tore over me, but I tamped it down, focusing my thoughts on the puzzle before me.
Yes, it was fresh mortal blood, but from whom I couldn’t tell. It didn’t belong to whoever had donated the blood for the feast. So a servant, perhaps? The cook? I didn’t think Zeus brought any humans here, other than those who were deemed sacrifices. All the servants I’d seen were vampires.
“What’s happened here?” came an all-too familiar voice.
I looked over my shoulder at Ares. Thick strands of his curly hair hung into his eyes as he surveyed the scene.
“Achilles and I heard some screaming, coming from the megaron. This is what we found when we got here,” I said.
“Yes, I passed Achilles on the way in here. He could barely speak. Now I know why.”
“Zeus really doesn’t let him feed?”
“Not when he’s on duty, which is most nights, I must admit,” he said tightly. “But that’s none of our concern. Does the blood taste mortal? It smells like it is.”
I nodded. “It came from a human’s veins. Have you ever met the cook?”
“No mortal is allowed to step foot on this island. That includes servants. Only vampires may witness Nekros. And sacrifices, because they’re fated to die. They can never leave to tell others what happens here.”
“So then whose blood is this?”
He stepped closer, held out a hand. I slipped my fingers into his and let him pull me to my feet, and it was all I could do not to notice the heat of him—how warm his touch felt after the chill from the rain. Even hours later, my bones carried the cold, but his palm seemed to burn it all away.
My breath hitched, and I hastily tugged my hand from his.
Zeus appeared, darkening the archway. His gaze swept across the kitchen, and a deep scowl twisted his features. “Get out. Both of you. Go to the amphitheatre. I’ll take care of this.”
“Who is it?” Ares asked.
“Do not question me. Leave and do not speak of this again,” Zeus ordered, pointing at the archway. “Now.”
