Page 70 of Fated In Blood

That pale glare devoured me from the inside out, squeezing my brain like a seedless grape. I couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, clawing at my throat with my free hand while Riordan watched impassively.The fucking asshole.

Finally, the onslaught stopped, Tyrell hissing softly in frustration.

“As you can see, she is undermyprotection.” Riordan’s calm ease was an annoying contrast to my enraged indignation.Accusations were being tossed around. Accusations I couldn’t refute. When you didn’t have much in this world, your reputation was an important commodity, and Tyrell was shitting all over mine.

“This particular Silverwood belongs to Blake, and you must be pretty fucking desperate to make up some bullshit charges to get to us through her.” His hand tightened again, and I sucked in a gasp of pain. “Try harder next time.”

Like hell I belonged to anyone, something these neanderthal fuckers would learn the second we got away from Tyrell and his piercing gaze that gobbled my soul up from the inside out.

But…why would he tell Tyrell that Blake turned me?

Unless this was part of some bigger strategy.

Tyrell looked down his very long nose at me. “She doesn’t have my mate’s looks, but Collum has talked about nothing but her since he returned from Valentine’s a bloody mess. A rematch might be in order between the two.”

He turned to Riordan. “Would you care to choose the date? I know you’re busy.”

When hell freezes over, I thought as loudly as I could, and I swore Riordan’s lips twitched.

But Riordan wouldn’t be sidetracked. “Speaking of that treacherous bastard, Collum is banished from Nocturne territory. Also part of our agreement. If he’s back, then our deal is off.”

“He brings with him a very interesting proposition.” Tyrell looked like the cat who’d gottenallthe cream. “Malachi Draven is in the states and looking for an established clan to ally with. I’m meeting with him in two days’ time.”

“Malachi Draven”—Riordan enunciated the name like it was made out of dogshit—“is reckless and unhinged. A danger to everyone around him. There’s a reason he belongs to no clan.”

Riordan’s demeanor had entirely changed, his hand banded around my arm beginning to shake. That news rocked him, something a delighted Tyrell didn’t miss.

“Malachi, like you, is one of my progeny. This castle is his home, if he so chooses. The prodigal son, returning home at last. I believe he is the same age as Blake, is he not? And Collum?”

“Yes,” Riordan said stiffly. “They were all born within thirty years of one another.”

What about Blake? I thought loudly to Riordan.Why are we wasting time on fucking semantics and birthdays when he’s being tortured to death?

Although…I hadn’t felt an onslaught of fresh pain in a few minutes.

Oh God, was Blake dead?

“You are angry about more than the girl.” Clearly, Riordan was rattled. Distress strained his voice, his expression, the frantic way his eyes kept darting toward the exit. Whoever this Malachi was, he must be even worse than Collum.

Riordan’s fingers stopped digging into my arm. “But what’s done is done. Killing Blake won’t change the past and you’ll make an enemy out of me. And you don’t want me for your enemy, Laurent.”

“Are we allies, then? The two of us, constantly working to undermine the other?” Once more, Tyrell tapped his finger with its too long nail on his chin. “As you so succinctly pointed out, this is about far more than the girl. She’s barely consequential. Much like Cassmira. A pretty little pawn, but meaningless in the scheme of things.”

Riordan went from panic to fury so fast white-hot magic poured off him and out onto the floor in a shower of brilliantly bright sparks. Heat radiated off his big body as he marshaled himself, corded forearm flexing where he held me.

“A pawn I’ll be keeping, given the surname she bears. Now hand over Blake in the next five seconds and I won’t burn this place down around you.”

“I was finished with him, anyway.” Tyrell clicked his fingers together and something dropped onto the floor.

A pile that looked like a bloodied heap of leather and rags, but also suspiciously like the clothes Blake had been wearing earlier, when I’d last seen him. Then the bloody pile moved, a hand twitching, so broken I hadn’t even recognized it. On reflex, I stepped forward to help him, but Riordan yanked me back.

Collum appeared a second later, blood splattered across his face. “My arm was on the verge of giving out.” His grin—minus one fang—sharpened when he spotted me. “Slayer. You still smell delicious.”

“You still smell like a rotting carcass,” I said, ignoring Riordan’s glare.

“You’ll get your chance at her, Collum, but this round is over.” When Tyrell’s cold, appraising eyes glanced off Blake’s ruined form and landed back on me, I only knew one thing.

I was going to shove a stake into this old bastard’s shriveled-up heart.

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