Page 87 of Tears of Revenge

She had never even thought about hunting. Yet, going into the wild without falling victim to the elements felt… exciting. That was something she’d learned over the past few weeks. Weather didn’t bother her anymore, not rain, not heat. She’d slowly gotten used to the idea of being indestructible. It had started when Marcus made love to her under water. Then the thorns of her roses had been unable to prick her skin, as were the scissors that had slipped while she was cutting twigs.

“Lysander is getting ready for bed. Would you like to go downstairs again before cuddling up for the night?”

She nodded, pushing herself out of the armchair. Varos and Lysander met her in the living room and followed her downstairs. The past few days, she’d felt safe enough for them to give her space while stepping into the dungeon. She unlocked the door and found Troy’s skeleton-like body. They were feeding him, but only enough to keep him alive. She was sure that Marcus had let her slip a few times just so Troy knew that she would kill him without hesitating. He wouldn’t hold out much longer, mentally cracking more with each of her visits.

She took a slow step towards him, which made him crawl back against the wall, as if it would swallow him whole and save him from his misery. Slowly, she moved closer. Once she was only inches away, she crouched down and reached for him. She hadn’t yet gotten close enough to touch him, but the urge of feeding on his blood was dampened by the plan she had for him.

She cut his shirt with her claw, letting it fall open and exposed his chest. He used to be bulky and muscular, but now he was nothing more than skin and bones. He didn’t dare move as she dragged her finger over his chest, her nail slicing through the skin like a hot knife through butter. His blood was intense, the scent of it creeping up her nose and seeping into her mind. Yet, what she had in mind for him was far more important.

As she cut into his skin and the blood rippled down his chest, he was barely breathing. Just as he’d done to her, she carved over and over. She wanted him to feel what she had, to know what it was like to be marked and branded. When she went over it a third, then a fourth time, his body shook and tears ran down his cheeks. She had no remorse, dragging over a fifth time before rising to her feet.

Her first instinct was to lick her finger clean of his blood, but then she held it out. Marcus was more than happy to offer himself as a volunteer. Standing beside her, he closed his lips around her finger and sucked it clean. She didn’t hold back the sound of pleasure as his tongue pressed against her before releasing her. He turned her hand and kissed her knuckles as a thank-you, like the gentleman he was.

Staring down at Troy she could see how he was struggling to stay conscious. He would faint the second he saw his chest.

As if he could read her mind, Varos handed her a small hand mirror. Crouching down before Troy, she held it up so he could see.

DEAD

Thirty-One

Varos

Avalon had done so well. She’d been able to withstand Troy’s blood, even restraining herself from tasting it. He couldn’t express how proud he was of her, and what this meant for him. After turning her, he’d been terrified that he’d taken her true self from her. But she was more herself and stronger than she’d ever been.

“Ready for a little fun?” Marcus asked, brushing past him and down the stairs.

Avalon was cuddled up with Lysander, letting him pamper her with blood and pleasure. Her dampened moans followed them into the cellar. After leaving the dungeon herself, she’d given them full reign over Troy’s fate. He’d served his purpose.

He wasn’t the violent type, but he was itching to see what Marcus had in store. When they stepped in, Troy barely had the energy to flinch. He leaned against the doorframe as Marcus pulled the limp body up by the ropes tied to his wrists.

“I don’t think you’ll have much fun with him after all.”

Shrugging it off, Marcus ran his free fingers over Avalon’s writing. “I was going to feed him, but it would destroy her masterpiece.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

Marcus tipped his head, watching that shadow of a man twirl on the rope, no fight left in him. “You’re right. This was far too easy.” Marcus slashed his wrist with his fangs and pressed the wound against the man’s mouth. He took one big step, pinning Troy between his own body and the brick. Once he’d tasted the deliciousness of Marcus’s blood, Troy sucked eagerly. After surviving on scraps, pain, and fear, that blood was probably like liquid heaven. He even tried to chase Marcus when he pulled away.

Marcus laughed, letting Troy fall to the ground. He caught himself with a newfound strength, eyes still dazed from the high. Marcus didn’t let him enjoy it very long, landing a blow to his jaw. The sickening crack echoed through the room. The sound seemed to be music to Marcus’s ears, igniting his devilish side. He grinned and his eyes sparkled. His next blow crushed the man’s ribs, shattering them into pieces that pierced the skin and deformed his thorax. His blood-curdling screams rattled the walls.

Marcus didn’t stop until the man was dead. Blood splattered the walls, the shape in front of him no longer resembling a human. Troy’s skull was cracked in half, skin flapping weakly over organs it was supposed to protect.

“I’m assuming you’ll be cleaning this?” he asked, stepping up next to his friend and inspecting the corpse.

“The only part I hate.”

“I’m sure Avalon would appreciate it.” Then he turned and went upstairs, satisfied that the bastard got the ending he deserved.

As he passed Lysander’s room, Avalon caught his attention. “I’m thirsty,” she whispered. “But I can’t bring myself to move him.”

Lysander was curled up in her lap, his head on her thigh and his large arms wrapped around her lower leg. He chuckled to himself and returned to her a few moments later with a glass to quench her thirst and a book to keep her mind occupied. She set both aside and pulled him down beside her, planting a sloppy, wet kiss on his cheek.

A few days later, they were packing their bags, Avalon quite overwhelmed with everything they’d bought her. She sat amongst the shopping bags she hadn’t dared to touch since they’d arrived. But now that Marcus had ripped off the price tags, she felt more daring.

“We can pack everything and you can try things on when we get there,” he suggested.

“But what if I don’t like the way they fit? We won’t be able to return them if we wait too long.”

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