Morgana stood laughing cruelly as she spun with a mocking flourish.
“She’s all yours,” she purred.
Without hesitation, I lunged, not daring to look at the woman’s trembling lips, her pleading eyes as I focused on the blood trickling down her throat.
I had enough faces haunting my sleep…I couldn’t afford to have hers as well.
The prisoner screamed, the sound piercing the air, tearing through my mind, and I tried to shut it out. My fangs sank into the softness of her neck, and warm blood spilled over my tongue. Magic hummed through my veins, and the woman thrashed, her nails clawing at my arms.
I grabbed onto her skull and twisted sharply.
Her screams cut off abruptly, and her body sagged in my arms.
I heard Morgana scoff irritably behind me, but I knew if I didn’t kill her, Morgana would have, and at least this way she wouldn’t suffer.
*
I pushed open the grand wooden doors of the dining hall, and the aroma of spiced meats and fresh bread drifted toward me. I sighed at the smell, my stomach growling at finally being able to eat a proper meal. My eyes scanned the room and I swore under my breath.
Duke Wellington and his wife, Patricia, were already seated at the long table. Platters of various meats, fruits, and freshly baked bread were laid out before them. Patricia was, as usual, sporting a ridiculous puffy-sleeved dress, this time in a ghastly, muted yellow that reminded me of overripe fruit.
The Duke, Geoffrey, had sat up straighter as I entered. His enormous frame practically spilling out of his chair, the buttons on his black uniform straining against his bulging belly. A thick, hairy mustache, that always made me think of a hairy slug, drooped over his meaty face.
Scowling, I continued my way toward the table, wishing I had just gone to the kitchen to eat instead.
Patricia watched me, her long pointed nose rising high in the air, scrunching as if she was catching an unpleasant scent. She eyed her husband but the duke at least had the sense to lower his gaze as I approached, staring back down at his overflowing plate.Coward.
Smiling to myself, I grabbed onto the carved wooden chair directly across from them and slid into the seat. I started to fillmy plate as they continued to pretend I wasn’t making them uncomfortable.
“You’re awake.”
The duke's black eyes lifted, and his flippant remark left his lips along with bits of food he had been eating.
Disgusting.
I let my fangs snap out threateningly, and Patricia narrowed her beady eyes on me, the duke shifting uncomfortably again as he looked back down at his food.
“Yes, and I'm quitehungry.”
I pulled my mouth into a cruel smile and let my gaze drop to his neck. The vein there pulsed, and I could hear his heart beating faster as he watched me stare at his neck, his throat bobbing nervously.
If I hadn’t just fed, I might have lunged across the table just for the hell of it.
Still might.
“We were just leaving,” Patricia's shrill voice cut through the air. I turned my eyes to her, baring my teeth. Fates, I hated her. Hated them all.
My lips parted, and I was about to offer a sarcastic comeback when I heard the door creak open. The two across from me froze, and I leaned back, watching their faces drain of color. The scent of metal filled the air, and I smiled faintly as heavy boots echoed.
Atticus stopped just behind my chair, and a golden, calloused hand emerged, stroking my cheek in a slow caress. But his touch didn't send the usual thrill through me as it used to.
“You’re awake.”
My eyes couldn’t have rolled any harder.Was that all anyone could say to me?
As I turned, my eyes met a swirling silver, and I shivered at the possessive, feral gleam within them. I recognized that look all too well.
His midnight-black hair fell just below his chin, framing his sharp features. Stuble lined his jaw and it made him look more rugged than usual.
