Page 44 of To Crave Truly

“We will make him pay for this; I promise you.” And I would. I wasn’t going to rest until he was back in the Pit begging for mercy.

“I know we will. And don’t worry, first chance I get, I’m going chop his dick off and shove it down his fucking throat,” she said with venom. Fire erupted in her eyes and her canines elongated. Damn, but she was beautiful. All seething rage and fiery passion.

I captured her mouth, just to get a taste of her anger. I forced her lips wide and thrust my tongue inside. There was a sting as I caught my tongue on one of her fangs, but I couldn’t care less. I wanted more, to strip her bare and fuck her against—

She pulled away from me and retched, spitting my blood onto the ground. She retched again.

Oh, no.

Oh, fuck!

“You’re still in your first thirst?” Panic cut through me like a goddamn knife. “Where is he? Is he here?”

She shook her head as she stood back up, dragging the back of her hand over her mouth.

“How long have you got until you need to feed again?”

“I don’t know.” She grimaced. “Probably not long.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “What are you doing near the vault?”

“I can’t say.”

Right, the spell. Fucking Mordecai. My Hellfire was starting to bubble in my veins, and I needed to rein it in. My rage wasn’t going to help anyone right now and I needed to figure out what Lori and Iver were doing at the vault. Clearly stealing something, but what? Whatever it was, I knew I wasn’t going back to the Underworld any time soon.

“I’ll help you steal it.”

Chapter Nineteen

Fenris

Crowe Manor loomed in front of me like a mansion out of a horror movie. Made of dark bricks, the building stood proudly on top of a hill, casting its long shadow over the village below. The grey sky made the place look even worse and my stomach knotted itself over and over again as I walked towards the front steps. The door opened as I approached it, the blood red panelling swinging inwards into the dark recess of the hallway beyond. I hated this place. Loathed it. I wanted to burn it to the ground and then bury its ashes somewhere no one would ever find it. There was something wrong with this place. It was old and twisted. Stained with the blood of the Crowe ancestors that had lived here. A handful of them were good, but most of them were like my father. Cruel leaders who enjoyed the pain of others.

“Good evening, Master Crowe,” Gideon said with perfect intonation. His tone was always the same. Neither happy nor sad, polite but not charming. He was the epitome of a butler; smartly dressed and always on top form.

“Is my father in?”

“The Arch Mage is in the library. He is waiting for you.”

Always the ‘Arch Mage’. Never Octavius or Master Crowe. What a pretentious prick.

“Thank you, Gideon.”

“I have prepared your rooms—”

“That won’t be necessary.” I wasn’t staying here any longer than necessary. I could already feel the walls closing in on me and I wanted to leave as soon as my conversation was over.

“Very good, sir.” Gideon bowed with a moderate flourish and then disappeared, leaving me alone in the entrance hall. My footsteps echoed as I walked to my father’s sanctuary. I hated the library. It was littered with memories of punishments. All those beatings and for what? So my father could feel more powerful? So he could shape me into his image?

Well, more fool him. I was nothing like him and it pissed him off that he couldn’t bend me over his knee anymore. That I was too big to be beaten. It didn’t stop the intrusive thoughts invading my mind or stop me from picking at the skin around my cuticles until they bled. I knocked on the large wooden door and then thrust my hands into my pockets so he wouldn’t see my anxious little habit.

“Enter,” came the smooth voice of my father.

I took a deep breath and crossed the threshold. Panic had my fingers trembling in my pockets with the effort to keep them still. Memories flooded my mind as I stepped deeper into the room.

The bookcase where I cracked my forehead.

The spot on the rug where I bled when I broke my nose.

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