Page 12 of The Salvation

Once Valeryc’s vitality is drained to its dredges, and he stops thrashing, stops twitching, stops breathing, I surge my power. The adrenaline in his veins and jumpstart to his heart always trigger his power in a lightning strike—one that targets his inner flesh, sears his organs, and causes his flesh to smolder.

He will burn from the inside out for the next day.

“Any more questions regarding her worth?” I tower over the writhing worm, savoring his agony.

“Forgive me, Lord Merikh,” he pleads and claws at his chest.

I roll my eyes and turn to the others, who still kneel. “You will all be present at the Blood Crest tonight. See to it that every clan appears. Every seat in Court will be full.”

The rest bow their heads, hands to their hearts, and rise to obey my command.

Meanwhile, it will take hours for me to restore as many of my people as I can. As Bo insisted, I begin with the children…

5

"Don't be such a baby. I didn't hit you that hard..."

QUINTESSA

I wake to darkness.

No, darkness is too weak of a word. Because everything around me is black. Black as a yawning grave, an endless void in the netherworld. I’m buried alive.

All my memories return, along with the bloodcurdling horror that drags panicked breaths from my lungs. Nothing but the coffin on all sides of me. Nothing but the sound of my blood pounding in my ears. And my desperate whimpers that sound more like screams escaping.

Damn that vampire! How could he do this to me?

My chest squeezes, and tears choke my throat when I consider how much less of a transgression this is versus how he nearly drowned me. How he looked in those moments. Every emotion, every carnal and violent instinct I’ve witnessed or experienced from him was nothing, a scrap of an echo, compared to the deathly monster I beheld in those moments.

All those other times, I could read his need, his desire, his...possession. But when he had his hands around my throatand held me under the surface of the water, those eyes held nothing but nightmares. And sadism. Torture. Pain.

A thousand demons, perhaps more, have stalked the vampire I love. They gazed back at me with a smile on their lips as they watched me suffer.

It was Merikh who lifted me out of the water. It was still Merikh fucking me with his silver crosses the whole time. Like his cock inside me was some kind of anchor, a tether to hold him to me when those monsters in his mind took over. To think my flesh serves as his vessel, and my half-soul, his touchstone...it washes over me and wells up inside me with emotion I can’t name yet.

The creaking of the casket lid sends a surge of adrenaline into me. Soft, scarlet light falls upon me before Merikh’s silhouette blocks everything.

He reaches for me at the same time that my balled hand comes out swinging—right for his jaw. I’ve never claimed to be a strong woman on a physical front, but I throw all my outrage and feminine fury into that sucker punch.

“You’re an asshole!” I screech as Merikh staggers back.

Of course, he doesn’t stumble, but he grips his jaw, those deeply hooded eyes stunned. He recovers all too quickly, and those eyes mark me, brows screwing low. The scarlet tide in his dilated pupils has returned, and it should give me some cause for alarm, for a respectful fear. But my blood still boils, blistering my veins with hot anger.

“Did she just—” Bartie points to the Merikh, then appraises me before shifting his gaze back to the vampire.

“Bo. Leave.”

It’s all Merikh requires for the steward to turn tail and shamble out of the Lord’s chambers.

Huffing, I climb out of the casket as Merikh closes in, prowling toward me. “Don’t be such a baby. I didn’t hit you thathard,” I mutter and cross my arms over my chest, glaring up at him as his shadow overthrows my body. I jab my chin at him and wrinkle my nose. “You deserve far worse.”

Cocking his head, the God of Blood roams his gaze along my body as if he’s imagining carnage. I’d be a fool to deny how my spine shivers from his fatal eyes. Or how his beautiful violence and unholy darkness go to war against my half-spirit. And wins. Because I’ll let him conquer me every time. My cunt damn near creams itself from his penetrating gaze alone. Fuck, the way he can make embers spark along my nerve endings just from the gravitational force of his dark, soul-crushing eyes.

I want the fear, the punishment, the bruises and scars, and the fire and ice he wants to give me. I want him to go bare bones and fuck me with every fraction of his power.

In his realm, he is not just this death god. He is the God of Blood and the Lord of the Court of Hollows. He is the epitome of supreme power. But I am the force that feeds that power. I am why his muscles swell, his fingers flex, and his veins throb with hunger. Hunger to devour and destroy me, but hunger nonetheless.

When he lifts his hand and cups my chin, forcing my neck into an arch so he may view my exposed throat, all my flesh heats, and my blood rushes. A steady flush swells to suffuse my breasts and pebble my nipples until they practically stab through the sheer violet dress. The deep growl in his throat fuels my craving all the more.

---