Page 125 of Their Pretty Little Monster

Nyko swiftly swipes the blade across the meaty part of my palm. At first, I don’t feel anything, then bubbles of blood appear along the line, and the sting surfaces instantly. I hiss under my breath at the sharpness.

Nyko grins at me. “I’ve had paper cuts deeper than this. It’ll heal in no time.”

I laugh at his attempt to lighten the mood, when Elara suddenly grabs my hand, bringing it to her face. Her mouth presses over the cut, and the sensation of her tongue lapping at my blood makes my skin crawl. It’s strange, intimate, and deeply unsettling, leaving a strange sense of violation. My gut churns as I watch her, trying not to panic and rip my hand from her grasp.

Her eyes flutter closed as she keeps drinking from me.

Silence suffocates the room, broken only by the pounding of my heart and the throbbing pulse from the cut on my hand.

Elara’s nails dig into my skin, causing me to wince. She’s convulsing now. As she releases my hand, her legs give out, and she’s falling.

Heart in my throat, I lunge for her, but Killian catches her, not our father. He simply stands there, staring at her with a look of almost disgust, as if her convulsions are an inconvenience.

Elara’s eyes are wide and unfocused as she licks the drops of my blood from her lips. Killian helps her to her feet. She glances at me, her expression unreadable, while I’m panicking on the inside.

What did she see in my blood?

“And? Don’t keep me waiting!” our father berates.

She turns to him, still teetering on her feet.

“It’s true,” she finally admits. “She’s your blood-born, my half sister, and all three Shadowfen here are her true mates. She experienced a ritual vision with the three Shadowfen. Such a ritual can’t be faked. They told you the truth.”

I glance at my father, along with everyone else. He remains stoic, unmoving.

“You have your confirmation.” Wolfe stands tall, his voice booming across the room.

“So, it’s true,” he admits, meeting my gaze, lacking any emotions. “You are my daughter and as the eldest, the potential true heir to my throne.”

I nibble the corner of my lower lip as Killian, Wolfe, and Nyko press tightly near me. Why potential?

“So then, as per the King’s Oath—” Wolfe begins.

“I know the damn oath,” my father growls, his gaze darkening. For a split second, his monstrous form pushes forward—a row of horns curving backward like spiky hair, black eyes, sharp teeth, and long arms tipped with black claws. His body is shadowy and covered in spikes.

Then the imagery is gone, and shivers rush down my spine. Despite having seen so many monsters on the vessel, he is terrifying. The notion leaves me wondering if my mother had seen his true monster side, and that’s why she refused to speak to me about him.

“Then abide by it. You have your proof,” Killian commands. “Or shall we announce it in front of the people of this city? Your daughter has the memory now in her psychic ability for anyone to see the truth, as do all the guards who heard her confirmation.”

My father’s nostrils flare, his chest heaving. “I will not give my kingdom to just anyone who shares my bloodline, or I would have already assigned Elara to it. Sage and you three must first deserve it.”

Ouch. His insult for my half sister stings. She lowers her gaze, and my insides turn.

“What the fuck? How?” Nyko barks.

“A quest to prove you’re worthy,” the King states, his gaze turning to Wolfe. “Because fuck knows, your father didn’t deserve his title. He squandered it, never fought to merge the Shadowfen clans from around the world because he didn’t want to upset anyone. He let war rage between borders, and hundreds were killed. And look where that got him.”

Wolfe’s clenched, his jaw rigid. He throws himself at the King. “You fucking murdered him!”

Killian and Nyko are there, wrestling him back by his arms. The King’s guards dart in front of him.

I’m frozen, terrified, unsure what to do.

“Wolfe,” Killian hisses in his ear. “Tread carefully. We’ve come this far. Don’t give him any excuse.”

Wolfe’s face is burning with rage, and I feel sick to my stomach at his agony. The room seems to spin as my father laughs.

“Are you falsely accusing the King, boy?” My father puffs his chest out, glaring at Wolfe with such hatred that I want to drive a blade into his chest.

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