The door to the room slammed open with a splintering crash.

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CHAPTER 32 - BLAKE

I’d been coming to The Drained Rose long enough to know that most of the time you just had to look away. Madame Illustra wanted you to look away. Sometimes her girls– and boys–had rough customers, and it usually wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle. Hell, some of them liked it that way.

Most of Madame’s workers enjoyed what they did. The low level coercion that we highbloods had spun over the blightborn in Veilmar and the rest of Sangratha made mortals more pliable to suggestion. But they still had a measure of free will. If one wanted to feed, one needed the blightborn to be willing–or one had to overpower them or use thrallweave. Something which most highbloods had no qualms about.

In any case, I was used to hearing the sounds of rough feeding and even rougher sex.

But this was different. The sounds were different.

And then I’d heard Pendragon scream.

Now I took in the scene, my heart pounding.

Pendragon, her cloak ripped off, her hair wild, cascading down her back.

Her dress was torn. It was fucking torn. I saw red.

The highblood brute had hardly noticed me. He still had his hands all over her. Clawing, pawing at her, his intentions sickeningly clear.

“Get your own girl, my friend,” the highblood called back over his shoulder. “I've found myself a new girl and she's mine.”

Mine.

Mine.

Mine.

The word echoed in my head and fire erupted in my veins.

“I’m not your fucking friend.”

I launched myself at him, moving faster than I ever had in my life.

One moment, the highblood was latched onto Pendragon like a leech. The next I had ripped him away, my hand twisting into the man’s collar as I hurled him against the wall with all my strength.

He was older than me. Probably stronger.

But not now. Not tonight.

Mine, he had said. Mine.

The sickening sound of bones cracking echoed through the room. But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

The blood pounded in my ears as the man crumpled to the floor, dazed but still alive.

That simply wouldn't do.

Mine, he had said. Mine.

She wasn’t his. She was mine. Fucking mine.

I didn’t know why I knew it with such certainty then but I did. The word pounded through my blood. It spread through my bones. Mine.

Medra Pendragon was mine. And I was prepared to die before I let any harm come to her.

She was mine before we’d even met. Even when she hadn’t known it yet. She was mine and I was hers.

It didn’t matter if she believed it. If she accepted it. It didn’t matter if she hated me. I’d believe it enough for both of us. She was mine and she always would be.

My heart might have been black, my deeds as dark as night, but she was mine to protect, mine to keep safe, with everything I had to give.

She thought she was trapped? I was the one trapped. Trapped with this feeling I couldn’t get away from. The need to possess her. To dominate her until she accepted me.

I grabbed the man by his throat, yanking him up with ease. The highblood gasped, clawing at my arm in desperation. But my grip was like iron.

“She’s not yours,” I hissed. “I want to hear you say it.”

There was no mercy in my eyes as I looked at him, holding him up off the ground.

I slammed his head against the wall, hard enough to crack the plaster. A trail of blood was left behind.

“She’s...” The man choked. “She's yours.”

“Mine,” I growled, my voice thick with jealous rage. “You don't get to touch her–ever.”

The man’s voice came out as a rasp. I could hear the blood bubbling in his throat. “For–forgive me...”

But there would be no forgiveness. Not tonight. Not ever.

I tightened my grip, twisting the highblood’s neck with a sickening crack that reverberated through the room. The man went limp in my grasp.

I flung him to the floor, his body crumpling in a heap.

Breathing hard, I turned towards Pendragon.

She stood there, frozen, clutching her cloak to her chest as if trying to hide her torn dress. Her eyes were wide with shock.

Our gazes locked.

I reached for her arm, expecting her to slap my hand away. But to my surprise, she let me.

I led her towards the door.

“Wait,” she said, her voice hoarse. She pointed down at the carpet.

Neville. The fluffin lay on the gaudy red carpet. His little chest was rising and falling slowly.

“Fuck,” I growled. “He did that?”

She nodded tightly.

I suddenly longed to kill the man all over again.

I let go of her arm and scooped the little pup up into my arms.

“Come on,” I said, hoping she’d comply for once in her stubborn life. “I’m taking you and Neville back.”

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CHAPTER 33 - MEDRA

I was following a vampire.

Because I had no other choice, I told myself. The fluffin–whose name, apparently, was Neville, of all the ridiculous names–had been my way back home. At least Blake knew where we were going.

Still, I waited until he’d led us into the tunnel beneath The Wandering Page before I spoke up.

“What the fuck was that back there?”

He’d grabbed a lamp from off the shelf in the storeroom. Now he carried it in one hand and the limp fluffin in his other.

“What do you mean?” he asked, not even pausing to look back at me.

“I mean...”

“You mean you followed me,” he interrupted. “You followed me into a place you had no business being and where you had no chance in hell of being able to take care of yourself.”

There was no point denying it. Still, “You’re saying you had a right to be there? You snuck out of school. You wouldn’t have snuck out if you’d been allowed to leave.”

“No one would have stopped me.”

“Then you snuck out because you didn’t want anyone to see where you were going. Why?” I thought of the girl. “Why use a sellblood? I thought House Drakharrow had its own thralls.”

A pause. “We do.”

“Then why not feed from them?” I asked. “Or does it just get you off to go to brothels?”

“Why not mind your own fucking business?” He shot back. “Oh, wait. You can’t. You’re clearly obsessed with me.”

“I beg your pardon?” I sputtered. “I don’t think so.”

“Really? Then why follow me? No, not just follow me. Why follow me all the way into The Drained Rose? You could have gone anywhere in Veilmar, but instead, you were in the next room over. Did you watch me feed, Pendragon?”

He stopped and turned around, holding the lamp up higher so he could see my face.

I felt my face flushing. Godsdammit.

He sneered. “You did. You watched me. And you fucking liked it.”

He took a step towards me and I backed up.

“Stop it,” I said automatically. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what? Come near you? Why not? When it’s obvious you want me to. Why can’t you admit it, even to yourself?”

My blush deepened. I felt furious with myself. “In your wildest dreams, Drakharrow. Not every woman on earth wants you.”

“Not every woman, no. But you do.” He smirked. “Did you watch the entire time I was feeding? Or did you look away? Was it too much for you?”

I didn’t answer.

He lowered his voice, looking at my neck. “I can give you the same pleasure I gave her. Anytime you want. All you have to do is say the word. Just one little word. ‘Please.’”

I snapped. “No fucking way. Keep your hands and fangs off me. Besides, you’re not allowed to take blood from me. You said so yourself.”

His smirk deepened. “You don’t even know how it works.”

“Then tell me,” I demanded.

He shook his head. “No way. It’s more fun like this. Maybe someday you’ll figure it out.”