Page 1 of Midnight Conquest

Prologue

Scottish Fortress of the Vamsyrian Council—1486

Broderick MacDougal’s muscles seized as fresh torment tore through him. He dropped to his knees, and stone bit into his palms. He laid his cheek against the cold and unyielding floor as he sagged forward.

Once the pain subsided, he managed to stand up—slowly and shakily—and studied the young faces of the Elders.

“Are you aware you must feed from mortals to satisfy the bloodlust you will gain upon becoming immortal?” Elder Rasheed asked calmly, his eyes as dark as his obsidian throne.

Broderick nodded, jaw clenched tight against another ripple of agony. Only when he trusted his voice did he speak. “Aye. And that I cannae walk in sunlight again. That I’ll lose consciousness at dawn, vulnerable while I sleep.”

“Then you have three choices.” Rasheed’s clipped tone made it clear he had no interest in Broderick’s suffering. “Become a Vamsyrian. Leave this place with the Army of Light. Or die.”

The Council sat unmoved behind their black marble table,perched on thrones of wrought iron. They looked like men in the bloom of their twenties—yet according to Cordelia, the Elders were centuries old. Clad in deep crimson brocade, they could have been carved from blood and stone.

Broderick straightened, his voice hoarse but steady. “Death? Shall I no’ be allowed to live if I choose neither path?”

Rasheed’s coal-black brow lifted. “If you choose the Army of Light, we are bound not to kill you. But aye, if you choose neither, we may end your life. It is rare—but not unheard of. In your case, the act would be one of mercy, not secrecy.”

“Mercy? Why?”

Elder Rasheed cast a sidelong glance at his peers. “Surely, you’ve been told your fate as a Blood Slave. Is that not why you’re here?”

Broderick didn’t like the sound of that. A bead of sweat slipped from his brow, tracing his cheek as he shook his head. “What is a Blood Slave?”

Rasheed’s expression tightened. He turned his critical stare to Cordelia.

Broderick followed his gaze, his stiff neck straining. Cordelia Harley stood with her shoulders back in defiance of the scrutiny. Her gaze fixed ahead, crimson mottling her pale cheeks.

“In short,” Rasheed said flat and cold, “a Blood Slave is already dead. The exchange of blood you’ve undergone will be your undoing.”

For months, Cordelia had sunk her fangs into him, sipping his blood. Then she’d sliced her own wrist and fed her blood back to him. “Cordelia said this was part of the transformation.”

Rasheed’s jaw slackened in disbelief. He thundered, “Youcreated this Blood Slave?”

Cordelia winced, but eyes still diverted.

“Look at me, woman!”

At last, she slid her attention toward Rasheed, then quickly dropped her gaze and gave a small, trembling nod.

Broderick muttered a curse.

“You led us to believe you were saving him from the Blood Slave condition,” Rasheed roared, rising from his throne like an inferno taking shape. “Not that youcreatedit! You’ll stand there until I say otherwise, or I’ll skin you alive and display you in this Council Chamber until I deem your suffering sufficient. Is. That. Clear?”

Cordelia flinched and nodded, her breath coming in rapid, shallow bursts.

Rasheed slumped back into his seat, eyes still locked on her. “Nay, Broderick MacDougal. This minor exchange of blood binds you to her will. Emotionally. Physically. Those who become Vamsyrians must choose it freely. If her influence sways your mind, your choice cannot be trusted. That’s why we call it ‘Blood Slave.’ That’s why your body burns. The immortal blood fights to transform you, but there’s not enough of it. You’ll die in agony before it finishes.”

Broderick gritted his teeth. Rage and pain twisted inside him like clashing swords. No wonder he’d followed her so blindly. She hadn’t just deceived him—she’d taken his will.

Another betrayal, another woman.

Cordelia had baited him with promises of strength. Power enough to strike down Angus Campbell at last. But it had been Evangeline’s betrayal that shattered everything, letting Angus wipe out Broderick’s kin. Cordelia had only twisted the knife.

He turned left to glare at the man who was the bane of his existence—Angus Campbell.

The bastard stood rigid, veins pulsing at his temple, furycrackling in his emerald eyes. He stared back at Broderick and Cordelia with undisguised loathing.

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