Page 143 of Fated In Blood

He just laughed. “No, Vicious, I’m positively civilized. My Maker was a monster. That kind of vampire doesn’t exist anymore, and you should be glad you’ll never meet anything like him.”

His lips skimmed lightly across my ear before he set his hands on my shoulders and turned me around. “Now watch, and see what should have been obvious all this time.”

At eye level I peered through a small opening, high up, looking over…some sort of Great Hall, where wood-paneled walls were covered with portraits and tapestries, flames licking out of the enormous fireplace.

We were in some sort of spy hole, perfectly located to take advantage of the room’s acoustics. I detected every crackle from the fireplace twenty feet below and the sound of wine—or maybeblood—poured into tall crystal glasses as Tyrell turned to face his guests, that stick-up-his-ass, I’m-better-than-you expression still pasted on his face even though his castle was in chaos.

My sister sat in a chair beside him, hunched into a ball, hands folded in her lap, head bowed so low I couldn’t see her face, but from her shaking shoulders, she was terrified.

And Tyrell’s guests…My knees gave out, a ripple of horror going through me as I recognized that arrogant stance and the shock of dark-blond hair.

“You’ve put me in an impossible situation,” Laurent snapped. “This was to be a smooth transition. Your daughter for breeding in exchange for my continued alliance, and now…” Tyrell gulped his drink, not the dainty, calculated sips like before, but draining the entire glass in one go.

“Now I’m tearing my own goddamned home apart to root out a king who should already be dead, a half-breed bastard, and your other fucking daughter, who you should have taken care of nine years ago like we’d planned.”

I was suffocating.

This couldn’t be real.

Silas reclined in a chair to the right of the fireplace, legs crossed like he’d been in this room so many times it felt like home. Uncle Alistair crossed in front of the fireplace to pour himself another glass from the decanter.

Wine, that had to be wine.

Please let it be wine.

“Laurent, please.” My father swirled his glass, thickly coating the sides red. “This situation can still be salvaged. There was a reason we kept Angelique for breeding and trained Evangeline in our ways, though I must say, a girl could never come close to a man in strength or skill. But her blood, Tyrell…” My father shot the Ancient one of his trademark smiles.

“Her blood is the real weapon. Has the king, or the other brute…Blake, wasn’t it? Have either of them drank from her, perchance?”

“The king. I noticed the effects right away.”

“There you have your proof. Mission accomplished.” Silas and Alistair traded a pointed glance behind Tyrell’s back, one that sent fear skittering down my spine. “You know we’ve told you the truth, and now you can use her accordingly. Addiction, as you know, is a powerful weapon.” A low growl built in my throat, a mixture of helplessness and rage.

“Quiet.” Malachi’s hand tightened on my shoulder. “They’re not finished.”

“Angel will give you an heir worthy of your bloodline, and my other daughter will give you a weapon beyond compare. Keep her in your basement for all I care and drain her dry every night. You now have a steady supply of a substance more powerful than any drug. You control the source; you control the populace.”

“What the fuck is he talking—” Malachi’s hand slapped over my mouth and everyone down below froze, Tyrell scanning the room, Silas straightening up.

“Did you hear something?” Alistair was already armed, a gun in each hand, head swiveling around then up, scanning the ceiling, eyes skating right over the tiny hole I hid behind.

“My men, most likely, hunting down my miscreant progeny.” Tyrell spoke dismissively, a king secure in his castle, convinced he was untouchable.

“The blood oath will be broken by tomorrow, and Graves and Marten will be delivered into my dungeon master’s care, unless you would like to have a go at them first?” Tyrell’s smile matched my father’s perfectly. “They’re stronger than you’re used to; it might make for an interesting challenge.”

“Perhaps another time,” Uncle Alistair said diplomatically. “Unfortunately, we have places to be.”

“Until next month, then.” Tyrell lifted his glass to Uncle Alistair and my father. “Salute. To a profitable arrangement, ten centuries and counting. Once we have the king and his enforcer rounded up, Bosch will give you a list of your next targets. We meet next month, and payment will be arranged per the usual channels.”

I couldn’t look away, Malachi’s hand stifling every curse coming from my mouth as my father and uncle revealed the precious Silverwood legacy was nothing but a lie.

We weren’t hunting vampires on some pseudo religious fanatical mission to save the world. We were doing Tyrell’s dirty work and getting paid.

My father approached Angel, and Malachi tightened his grip. “Be a good child and obey your master. You’ve done well, Angelique. It’s a shame your sister isn’t cut from the same cloth.”

Red coated my vision when Silas patted her on the head like a dog, Angel shaking so badly her teeth chattered.

Utter shame washed through me.I should have gotten my sister out of here weeks ago, should have known she was being compelled by a fucking monster. I should have listened to my gut.