Page 8 of The Blood Moon Oath

I take a cautious step forward, testing my legs. My muscles scream in protest, my body aching as if I’ve been hit by a freight train. Whatever happened back in the forest left me drained in a way I’ve never felt before.

I shuffle toward the fireplace, my gaze drifting over the details of the room again. For a prison cell, this is far more comfortable than I expected. Too comfortable. Warlocks. They steal souls, so why wouldn’t they steal everything else to make their lives easier?

The thought sets my teeth on edge. How many women have lain in this bed before me? How many souls have they drained to fund their extravagant lifestyle? My fingers twitch at the thought, the urge to lash out rising, but I don’t even know where I am, let alone how to fight my way out of it.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. My legs feel stronger now, the fog in my head lifting slightly. But as I glance at the door—a heavy, ornate thing made of dark wood with iron accents—I know there’s no way this will be as easy as just walking out.

I walk to the door, every step tentative, my bare feet brushing against the soft rug. When I reach for the handle, my fingers hover over the cool metal, nerves prickling at my skin.

Locked.

Of course. My jaw tightens as I jiggle the handle, willing it to give, but it doesn’t budge. “Figures,” I mutter under my breath, stepping back.

I glance around the room, scanning the walls and ceiling for anything that might be monitoring me. Cameras? No, that’s ridiculous. These aren’t humans. I’m in their world now, and if these warlocks wanted to keep tabs on me, they’d use something far more invasive than human technology.

My arms cross over my chest as I pace. The accommodations are far more extravagant than I expected. I’d assumed I’d wake up chained to a wall in some damp, moldy dungeon. But this? This looks more like the quarters of a queen.

The thought unsettles me. The warlocks I’ve encountered before have always been rough, wild, and dangerous. The kind of men who would laugh while they drained the life out of you. And yet, the ones who took me—Ghost, Reaper, and the one in the suit—are something entirely different. They don’t fit the mold. They’re sharp, precise, and even… sophisticated.

I groan, rubbing my temples as my mind flickersback to them. Ghost, with his silver rings and cunning eyes. Reaper, with his tattoos and unhinged grin, practically vibrating with dangerous energy. And their leader, the one with the suit and the steady, commanding presence. I didn’t catch his name, but it’s clear the other two defer to him.

I can’t make sense of it. I should have had the upper hand back in the forest. I’ve hunted warlocks for years, trained myself to evade and outmaneuver them, and yet… I went down. Hard.

Why?

My hands ball into fists as I lean against the door, frustration bubbling in my chest. My strength failed me, and now I’m here, trapped, with no idea why my body feels like it’s on fire. There’s something coursing through me, something foreign, and it’s throwing me off balance. Worse, it’s making me feel… drawn to them.

I shake my head violently, trying to dispel the thought. They’re my kidnappers. My enemies. I’ve killed dozens of their kind, drained their stolen power to even the odds, and if they find out, they’ll kill me without hesitation.

I need to get out of here. Now.

I scan the room again, hoping for some kind of escape route. There’s nothing—no windows, no vents, nothing but smooth stone walls. The only exit is the door. My stomach churns. I don’t even know what time it is or how long I’ve been unconscious. Am I underground? Aboveground? In some hidden fortress?

I stride into the adjoining bathroom, hoping for something useful. It’s just as lavish as the bedroom—gleaming marble countertops, a massive soaking tub, and a rainfall shower that looks like it belongs in some luxury spa. There’s no vent fan overhead, no ventilation system to crawl through.

Of course not. These warlocks wouldn’t need such trivial human amenities.

Another rush moves through me, searing hot and cold all at once, and I grip the edge of the counter to steady myself. My knees tremble, but I grit my teeth and push through it. Whatever this is, I’m going to use it.

I march back into the main room, fixing my gaze on the door. If I can channel whatever’s moving inside me, maybe I can force it open.

I plant my feet, inhaling deeply. My hands hover over the door, and I focus on the energy coursing through my veins. My fingers tingle, and for a moment, the handle trembles. A flicker of hope ignites in my chest as the door shakes slightly.

But then it swings open on its own.

Standing on the other side is Ghost, his sharp blue eyes fixed on me. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, a silver ring twisting lazily between his fingers. A faint smirk tugs at his lips as he looks me over, taking in the way I’m standing, the defiance in my eyes.

“Well, well,” he drawls, his voice low and mocking. “Looks like someone’s awake.”

Chapter

Six

TORIN -THE REAPER

The practice ring isn’t enough.

I swing the massive broadsword in a wide arc, the blade cutting through the frigid air with a satisfying whistle. Snowflakes cling to my bare chest, sizzling against my skin as my muscles flex and twist with each strike. The blood moon hangs heavy overhead, bathing the entire world in crimson light, making my veins feel like they’re about to burst.

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