Page 14 of A Sip of Sin

“I didn’t mean it,” said Corby, wrapping both hands around Munro’s wrists. “I swear.” His grip was still warm…but not for long.

“No one ever does,” said Munro softly. He let out a breath as he changed his gentle hands to brutal ones, pressing Corby hard against the piercing throne.

The frame was innocent enough, made of a carved wood—mahogany if he recalled correctly—still naturally tinted red, even with all it had been through. The arms were sturdy enough that shackles could be added, and even someone with immense strength wouldn’t be able to break free. Munro preferred to use a more straight-forward method to keep someone still.

The silver tips of stag antlers had been lovingly arranged on the throne by a true artist, creating a spiderweb of brutality thatall pointed to the poor soul who happened to be seated. When he’d first commissioned the piece, he’d thought of sharpening the points, but it really was better this way. The silver was a joke of his own making—one that no one had ever laughed at.

In the long history of his existence, one of his sons had been allergic to the gleaming metal. A few years later, word on the street was that silver repelled vampires.As if.There were a very few things that could stop a vampire.

Corby let out a screech as his back met the tips of the antlers, and Munro kept pushing, his grip steady and unyielding. Arching his back, Corby tried to escape the inevitable, but it was no use.

His shoulders were pierced first, jagged horns appearing through his chest as if by magic. Blood soaked into his shirt—dark and strong, coating Munro’s senses completely but doing little to sate him after Hollen’s alluring scent.

Corby was limp by the time he was fully seated, his eyes half closed and blood dripping from his lips. It wouldn’t be long before his eyes became sightless and his heart beat for the last time. The antlers had been expertly placed to avoid the vital organs and surrounding arteries, but he had already lost a lot of blood.

“Now,” said Munro, licking his fingers clean as he turned to face the others, “I believe you were discussing a revolution of sorts.” His heart picked up, excitement bursting through his veins. “Please continue.”

Kail shifted, Rhys screwing up his face and let his tattered robe fall wide.

Rhys clenched his jaw before crossing the space. “Covi.” He gave Corby a hesitant gaze, the scent of blood overwhelming. Corby was twitching now, blood pooling on the floor in a spreading lake. “If a single human with no affiliation with ourworld knows about us, then there is no way of knowing how long it will take the rest of the world. We would be captured—”

“And tortured,” said Munro, cutting him off. “I’m very aware of the little science experiments we would become before we would blink out of existence. We have fail-safes in place—computer viruses written into every base code—to stop any images and knowledge of us from spreading online. And people can easily be hypnotized into forgetting. We have nothing to fear.”

Something curled in his gut, twisting and echoing his words back to him. If someone else said those same things to him, would he believe them? He clenched his jaw.

Munro turned away from the scent of blood, strolling toward the door. Beyond were the calming scents of tea and the gentle clinking of glass. With the chaos here, the place would be empty tonight, but there was no reason he wasn’t able to sip alone. It wouldn’t satisfy him, but the warmth would keep him strong for another day.

A hand on his arm stopped him.

“You weren’t able to,” said Rhys, his eyes locked on Corby’s body. “You couldn’t hypnotize the mortal. I saw you fail. I’ve never seen that before.”

Munro pulled his arm free, raising his voice to address the room. “You are all welcome to enjoy the feast.” He motioned to the rapidly cooling blood. “It’s not very often we can cherish such an old vintage.”

As he slipped from the room, most of them were moving toward the body or already kneeling to suck the blood from the delicious wood. Kail was still at his place next to the table, his arms crossed as he stared at them.

Rhys met Munro’s gaze, licking his lips before running a hand down his chest. The appeal that had been there moments ago evaporated into smoke, his focus still on those few drops ofblood that Hollen had left behind. Even with his eyes closed, he could sense exactly where they were.

Munro had to force himself to keep walking.

Chapter Seven

Hollen

He slipped through the apartment door, taking a deep breath of warm air. Once inside, he pressed his back against it and leaned his head until it thudded against the hollow plane. His heart was still pounding, goosebumps littering his naked arms. The only thing between him and a chill from outside had been a thin tank top, which hadn’t soaked up a single ounce of tea stain.

For all the three locks on the door, it was probably fragile enough that someone could easily break right through it if they had the desire to. But it still had that barrier—the break from the outside world that muffled the voices of the neighbors and the smell of their various dishes that always combined into a mess.

“We have a few things to talk about, George,” said Hollen softly, looking down at himself. His uniform top was in a random dumpster, the white pants still clinging to his hips. They did little to warm him, the fabric thin and soft. The rainy coolness that had lasted for almost a week now had soaked into his very limbs after a few minutes on that strange, clearly cursed table.

It was late, probably close to eleven at night, but the lights were still on, the kitchen just beyond the door fully lit with the oven whirring away. Somehow, he’d hoped that Adair had already gone to bed, his soft snores greeting him instead of the overly bright lights.

There was a shuffling in the kitchen before Adair appeared at the end of the hall. There were dark circles under his eyes, the white still tainted with pink from tiredness or tears. “How did it go?”

He was wearing oven mitts, the blue stripes faded from so many uses and washes. Something red was smeared on his lips, and he quickly licked it away, his cheeks rosy presumably from the heat of the oven. “I made jam cookies, and there’s pizza in the oven for a late-night snack.”

Hollen glanced at the clock. It was later than he had thought and long past when Adair should have gone to bed. Most of his workouts started first thing in the morning, and since they didn’t have a car, he relied on buses to get there. It added an hour to his trip and cut away even more at the amount of time he had to sleep.

“You didn’t have to do that, baby,” said Hollen, toeing off his shoes as he took a deep inhale. “But it smells delicious. I was really craving a pizza, too, but don’t you have to dance tomorrow?”

---