Page 6 of Blood Descendants
He looks back at me. There’s a darkness in his eyes that tells me I’m out of my depth. I have my own bitterness and venom. But this man… he overshadows me a hundred-fold. “You have to be born to a vampire father and a human mother to one day be a vampire, at least the kind I am—a Born. I learned my father was a vampire when I was sixteen. And he told me what I would be someday. I just had to die first.”
I would have expected to feel overwhelmed at the information. This is huge, a massive wave, and I’m just a little, tiny creature on the shore.
But I just find myself feeling relieved. I’ve lived in terrified cluelessness for the last week. I’ve had nightmares.I’ve speculated. My imagination has tortured me with the unknowns for what feels like years.
Finally. Here it is. The truth. Straight from the mouth of the horse.
When the man doesn’t see me having a meltdown over his truth, he presses on. “I died when I was twenty-six. Four days later, I Resurrected to what I am now. I’ve been twenty-six for six years now.”
“You’re immortal.” Not a question.
He studies me closely, evaluating every inch of my reaction. He nods. “But, like I said, vampires can be killed?—”
“How exactly?” I cut him off. My eyes scan him, looking for weak points. I don’t find any.
He hesitates one second. It gives me immense satisfaction that he’s looking at me like I could be a threat to him. Like I might try to kill him the moment he tells me how. “Beheading,” he says, holding my gaze, the coldness returning to his eyes. “Stabbing through the heart. We heal quickly, and we’re pretty damn tough. So, if you’re going to go after a vampire, you’d better have perfect aim and plenty of strength.”
“Noted,” I state. There’s a decorative metal canoe on the side table next to me. It’s pretty pointy on the end. I don’t know exactly how fast this bastard is, but I might have a shot of getting to it quick enough and plunging it through his chest.
“Not a fucking chance,” he says evenly. “You’d make it maybe two feet before I could rip you apart.”
My eyes flick back to meet his. Ice rockets through my veins.
“And no, I can’t read your mind, you’re just being way too damn obvious,” he adds. “But we’ve established some level of trust here, don’t you think? I tell you exactly how to kill me.You know what I am, you could tell any authority. We’re in this shit together now, right,…” and then he trails off, his eyes narrowing.
You’re stupid, you’re stupid, you’re stupid, my brain is screaming at me.How the hell did you get yourself in this situation?But my name leaves my lips anyway. “Lana.”
He mulls that over for several moments longer than seems necessary. He notes I didn’t offer my last name, I’m confident in that.
“Ares Hunt,” he says finally.
A shiver works its way down my spine just before goosebumps flash over my entire body.
Ares Hunt.
How fitting.
“As in the god of war?” I question, even though every syllable of it makes perfect sense.
“My father picked it. Fitting for what he wanted me to be.” He interlaces his fingers, looking at me over the top of his knuckles. “My father is in real estate. He owns a huge portion of Manhattan. And he’ll keep buying up every bit of it he can. He’s building an empire. I am his heir, but not the only one.”
I look out the window. I can barely afford one room in a shitty apartment shared with two other women. Ares is heir to an empire in the most expensive city in the country.
“My father is building not just an empire of skyscrapers. He’s determined to make a presence here in the city. To have an influence. An immortal one.”
An empire of vampires.
“Just how many siblings do you have?” I ask, and I know it; this is the part he warned me I wouldn’t like.
“Eight, so far,” he says. The tenseness in his jaw is telling ofhow he feels about this. “I’m the oldest. The only one who has Resurrected so far. The next oldest is only sixteen. The youngest is a year old. And I don’t think he has any plans to stop anytime soon.”
“That’s disgusting,” I say, not even bothering to hide the sneer building on my face.
“Agreed,” he says, his tone cold as ice. “It’s the reason I left three years ago. My father told me it was my turn to help build the empire. Started pressuring me within months of my Resurrection. I told him I had no intention of ever being a breeding stud.”
My stomach turns.
“Augustus Lonan doesn’t take the answer of no very well,” Ares grits out. “Things got… ugly. Complicated. Violent. I’d worked for my father for years. Went to school, got the degree he demanded. Helped him grow richer than the king of many countries. But my refusing to make more heirs? He took it as a rejection. A betrayal. When I couldn’t change his mind, I left. Disappeared for a year so he would stop looking for me. When I came back, I moved in with my sister. Same mom, different fathers. She’s the only person I’ve ever actually loved, besides our mother.”
