Page 20 of Taken By Touch and Torment

“I need to feed,” I hissed to Uriah as we faced down the destruction, lingering born fighting with patrolling turned.

Uriah shot me an incredulous look. It was beyond uncharacteristic of me to act so irresponsibly by leaving myself weakened.

“I know,” I said. “It’s been fucking impossible since she’s been gone.” All other blood was watered down piss compared to hers. And feeding from others felt disloyal, like yet another way I’d hurt her.

He nodded in understanding. “Never again, Rune. You cannot deplete yourself. Not now. Not fucking now.”

“I know.”

Uriah pointed to a female witch reciting prayers to Lillian as she spread creeping black flames.

I didn’t want to feed from another woman, especially not straight from the tap. But the fact that she was repulsive and also in league with the people hurting Scarlett was more than enough justification for me.

Fuel, not pleasure. Not by a longshot.

Uriah’s shadows leaped from his skin as we joined the fray. They sliced through a born’s neck. Blood sprayed. The born choked on his own blood.

I wasted no time grabbing the witch, my shadows locking around her. With a gasp, her black flames snuffed out.

“I wonder how Selena and Helia will treat you after you forsook them to spit at their feet,” I whispered in her ear as she suffocated. “Guess you’re about to find out.”

I sunk my teeth into her neck. I choked down her unsavory blood, made even more rancid by her soul’s putrid essence.

I took no care in throwing her body to the scorched street.

Mortals were wailing, dragging away the injured and slaughtered from the café that had collapsed on itself. One of my women with water magick was putting out lingering flames.

These born vampires and allied mortals must’ve never left our territory, living in hiding until their suicide mission. We had our own special forces still on born lands. They weren’t this fucking stupid, though.

Finally, I had an excuse to unleash the wrath in my blood.

The born knew they were in trouble when my own fighters suddenly receded. The sky went dark. The born turned toward me, hatred burning in their bloodthirsty eyes.

I thought of Scarlett.

A feral roar escaped my throat. My shadows exploded in all directions. They impaled each born, gutted them, destroyed them from the inside out. And it wasn’t enough.

Mortals watched me in petrified terror. I wondered what they must’ve seen—a towering figure in all black, blood dripping down his chin, unholy shadows tearing through his rippling form and annihilating a dozen enemies in the blink of an eye.

I wondered if they saw my torment. My fucking agony.

Kicking a severed born’s arm out of my way, I surveyed the mangled bodies before me. It wasn’t nearly enough relief.

I couldn’t act on my true desires. I couldn’t destroy everything in my path on my way to her. I couldn’t damn Valentin, sacrifice my clan and my city and all other mortals. She would never forgive me if I chose to save her and doom her whole world.

But that’s what I desired.

Her.

Fuck everything and everyone else.

I wiped the blood from my mouth. My shadows slithered back to me, vengeful and devastated.

Every day that passed without my Little Flame I bought her a dozen new gifts. Clothing, new music she’d love, rare magickal objects and art. I wanted the castle to be perfect upon her return. I wanted it to feel safe—to feel like home.

I ensured the witches in Lumina were taken care of and watched over. Anyone Scarlett had ever loved was protected. I’d even corresponded with wolf shifters in dry lands to find her friend Jaxon.

At my desk, I drafted plans for defending against our worst-case scenario—a legion sent from the kingdom to take back Valentin for the born.

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