Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
I reach for him, but Valen grips my hair, holding me in place, crushing the curls Melody so meticulously created. Death is all around me, in the air, on the faces of the vampires who watch, in Gregor’s eyes. If my stomach wasn’t already empty, there’s a good chance I’d vomit. Instead, my stomach churns, acid in my throat as I try to keep breathing. My hatred of everyone in this room might be the only thing that’s keeping me alive right now.
A female clad in gauzy crimson draped across her chest and her hips, the rest of her pale brown skin bare, sidles up to the throne and sits at Gregor’s feet.
I stare at her, recognition flaring in my mind. “Fatima?” The name falls from my lips.
Her eyes are pale now, not the deep brown I remember, and her hair is free in long waves that flow around her shoulders.
“Nice to see you, Georgia.” She smiles, her fangs almost dainty behind her lips, painted a deep plum.
Gregor strokes her hair like a pet dog, and she leans into his touch, her catlike eyes still on me. Fatima—she was Juno’s aide. We were, if not friends, close acquaintances. How many times did we share a table at dinner time in the governor’s mansion? She was like family. I thought she was dead with all the others, but here she sits. Whole but changed. No longer human. A creature that lounges at the foot of evil and purrs contentedly.
“And yours, Lord Corvidion?” Gregor asks and sips his blood. Something falls off the side of his throne and makes a squelching thud as it hits the floor.
It draws my focus, the shape of it. Long and pale like a fish belly. One with … toes. My chest tightens as I realize it’s a severed foot. I rip my gaze from Gregor and stare at his throne. My gorge rises anew, my breath catching in my throat as I realize what it is. His crooked throne is bodies. A pile of bodies stacked and arranged—some tied with rope, some leaning precariously, and some dismembered entirely to fit into the crevices. I cringe away, but Valen’s hold on my hair tightens, stinging my scalp and forcing me to remain where I am.
“High Lord Dragonis.” Coal bows, his wings tucked tightly to his back. “I believe you killed my spoils back in the Black Cavern.”
Gregor, his skin white, the veins bulging in darkened lines, looks up as if he’s trying to recall. Then he gives a short bark of a laugh. “Ah yes, I remember. You should’ve asked for another. Sadly, I’m running out of humans these days.” He smiles, his yellowed fangs elongating.
Fatima gives a little laugh, her fingers tracing across her chest. The sheer fabric of her dress gives a clear view of her dark nipples, her body bare in a way that strikes a discordant note with her former modesty. Is she still her? The coldness in her gaze says she isn’t, that she’s something else. Transformed not only on the outside, but inside too. No vestige of humanity left.
Coal bows again.
“And yours, Lady Carlotta?”
“A very gracious gift, high lord.” Carlotta, the vicious blonde, curtsies.
Gregor raises a white brow. “He certainly doesn’t look it.”
“That’s because we’ve been having so much fun together.” Carlotta kicks Vince to his back and presses her foot to his chest. “Haven’t we?”
Vince moans, his eyes rolling back in his head. Carlotta drags him down the steps, and I’m thankful he’s unconscious, that he can’t feel any of it. Not yet.
“Yours is looking quite well, Valen. Quite well, indeed.” Gregor’s cold eyes flick to me. “Stand her up. Let me get a good look.”
Valen grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet, then forces me to stand in front of him.
Gregor looks me up and down slowly, then takes a long draw from his glass. “How does she taste?”
“Like a human,” Valen answers, bored again.
Gregor leans forward. “Is that all?” He tsks. “I don’t think so. I may have been a bit too hasty with her last time. Giving her to you when I should’ve kept her. She looks delicious, doesn’t she? What do you think, Fatima?”
“Good enough to eat.” She licks one of her fangs, her gaze raking up and down my body.
“Yes, I should’ve taken you for myself.” His eyes bore into me. “You’d have fewer fingers of course and no tongue. And your eyes, a lovely shade, I’d have those for dessert.”
I press my knees together to keep myself upright. Fatima rises and walks down the stairs, her hips swaying as she locks eyes with me. There’s something in her gaze that’s threatening, feral even. Her fingertips ghost along my arm as she whispers past and disappears into the crowd behind me.
“Alas, you belong to my Lord Specter now.” Gregor’s gaze returns to Valen. “And what have you learned from her. What of Theo?”