Page 75 of Fated In Blood

I wondered if the Silverwoods ever thought about what they’d become if vampires ceased to exist.

We depended on vampires like they depended on blood to survive. Our entire identity was forged around our hatred of the species, our singular goal to wipe them out. And if we ever succeeded, would we just…fade into history?

Or would we find another species to turn our hatred toward?

“Silver?” Riordan stood right in front of me, hand extended, a quizzical expression on his face. “Come on. You’re hungry. As soon as Blake heals, you start your training. You won’t make it far on an empty stomach.”

“He was practically dead five minutes ago.” I forced myself not to look over at the bastard. But I failed, my chest tighteningwhen his body arced up off the floor, hands clenched into fists. “You can’t expect him—us—to train today.”

“I not only expect it, I’ll compel you if I must. We have run out of time,” he said simply, his hand closing around mine. “None of us have a choice any longer, and I will do anything to stop Tyrell before he burns this kingdom to the ground.” His voice dropped as he paused to take a last look at Blake.

“Anything, Silver, do you understand?.”

“Well, it’s comforting to know you have a code of honor. Too bad your vaunted nobility doesn’t extend to me.”

“If it makes you feel better, I never would have involved you in this in the first place. But you do make a very convenient weapon.” He paused when we reached the midpoint of the hallway, hesitated, then pulled me into the closest room.

He dropped my hand the moment we were through the door, but his goddamned addictive scent made me follow, my fangs sinking into my bottom lip, breaths coming fast as I held myself back from tackling him and taking what I needed.

WasI addicted to him now?

Was this never-ending craving part of the wholevampires drink bloodthing?

It wasn’t like I could compare notes with anyone, nor was Riordan especially forthcoming with information, other than I was key to his plan in killing Tyrell. But the more blood I drank, the more I wanted.

And since I was used to being in control at all times, this overwhelming need was something I couldn’t shut down with logic.

I could barely think around the roaring inside my head.

My entire being burned for what came next, raw hunger peeling away everything remotely civilized. I wanted Riordan, plain and simple. I coveted his blood, and once I took that first mouthful, I’d want other things, too.

Everything about this was grotesque, but I couldn’t stop myself.

“How do you plan to take down Tyrell?” I asked, trying to divert all this churning frustration into something more…useful. He wouldn’t answer, but asking never hurt, and often people gave away more than they meant to through their lies.

“Carefully, now that Collum’s in the picture.” He let me go and crossed to the only piece of furniture in here, a huge, overstuffed leather chair sitting on a rug in the center of the room. With the fancy carved trim, it looked completely out of place among the dust and moth-eaten draperies.

“Blake will evaluate your skill level, and once we know what your capabilities are, we’ll know how we can best leverage your expertise.”

“It would help if I knew what expertise you were looking for. So I could, you know, prepare?”

The bastard sat down, legs spread, and leaned forward, hands clasped together. “This works better if you don’t know, Silver. Show us what you’ve got, and we’ll decide how to best use you.”

“Use me?” The breathless words tripped over themselves, another burst of heat igniting between my legs. A wild image came to mind—me pinned between the two of them as they sucked and bit, hands everywhere, fingers plunging…

Riordan’s head tipped to the side slowly, eyes narrowing as if he couldn’t look away.

“Yes.” His voice was so soft I strained to hear. “Use you, Silver. Do youwantus to use you?” His smile was faint. “Because if that’s what you want, I’ll give you more than just my blood this time.”

Fucking hell, I was going to implode from just the rough timber of his voice, unless he was using more of that spooky vampire voodoo magic on me?

“No magic, just attraction. Vampire attraction,” he clarified, still looking at me with his head cocked to the side. “Blood and sex go together for our kind. A sort of symbiotic relationship. Sometimes it’s hard to separate them, especially for a newborn vampire like you.”

Maybe that’s why the chair was here.

To keep me from getting too far out of control.

His smile was barely even a smile. “No, the chair is for another reason altogether. Now come here.” My feet jerked into action, propelling me across the floor. I lost my tennis shoes somewhere between the door and the chair.

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