Page 51 of The Pureblood Princess
“Stop!” Nadia demands.
But it’s too late.
The boy’s head lulls back, and Sister Kazamir pulls her fangs from his neck before shoving him from her lap. He falls to the floor ungracefully, and the sound of his head hitting the stone makes Nadia shudder.
He lies motionless, his lips parted, and in the silence of the room, his final breath is gratingly loud.
Sister Kazamir grabs the serviette from beside her plate and dabs the boy’s blood from her lips, then levels Nadia with a cold stare. “Should you reject our proposal, we’ll kill you. Your only use is in marrying my grandson; otherwise, I’ve no need of you, and you’ve already tested my patience.”
The way she says it—without any emotion whatsoever—sends a chill through Nadia’s blood, and she is momentarily distracted from the boy on the floor.
This distraction ties her tongue into knots, makes it impossible for her to even make a sound as Sister Kazamir finishes her glass of wine and stands from the table.
“I’m not a patient woman, Miss Magdalena. Make your choice, and make it soon.” She strides from the room, her silver hair sparkling in the light, and is gone before Nadia can get her bearings.
She sits there a moment longer, trying to control her breathing.
They’d kill her? Over a marriage?
Theodore!Nadia screams in her head, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to keep her tears of terror at bay.
But still he does not respond.
The boy on the floor still has not moved, and a putrid scent has already begun to emanate off his body. Nadia casts him one last look before covering her mouth and nose with her hand and hurrying to the doors.
“Let me out!” she cries, suddenly horrified to be locked in this room with the boy’s body.
The doors swing open to grant her escape, but Marek is already standing there waiting for her, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes neutral, guarded.
“I’ll see you to your room,” he says, holding out one hand as if to guide her into a garden.
Scoffing, Nadia dashes the tears from her cheeks and storms away from him.
“Miss Magdalena,” he says, but she keeps walking, hoping to put the horror behind her. “Miss Magdalena!”
A hand grabs her arm and spins her around, and it immediately sets her off. She fights back, clawing at Marek’s hand, then his arm, then his face. She keeps hearing that boy’s head hitting the stone, then Sister Kazamir’s warning, and images of Theodore and Honora making love keep flashing before her eyes.
She’s screaming now, tears streaming down her face, and Marek finally gets ahold of her, gripping her wrists in his hands and pinning her arms to her sides.
“Opri asta,” he says, his voice a harsh whisper. “You must stop.”
The fight goes from her quickly and is replaced by a mixture of thirst, anguish, and terror.
“She’s going to kill me,” she whispers, looking up into Marek’s blue eyes in search of compassion. “If I don’t marry you, she’ll kill me.”
A muscle in his jaw goes taut, reminding Nadia of Theodore, and it brings a fresh wave of tears to her eyes.
Does he not want her anymore? Is that why he won’t respond to her desperate pleas?
Suddenly exhausted from thirst and emotional turmoil, Nadia goes limp, her body giving out on her. But Marek’s hands are there, steadying her, ensuring she doesn’t fall.
And Nadia wonders for the first time if she truly has a choice or if marrying this man is the only way to save herself from that boy’s same grisly fate.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It’s unclear how many dayshave passed since Marek brought Nadia back to her room. She’s still wearing the same dress, though a clean bandage is now wrapped around her hand. The skin was red and weeping when she redressed it, but it looked like it had begun the healing process.
Despite it all, the unyielding torment that holds her in its grasp is thethirst, the relentless, gnawing need that plagues her every waking moment. Her throat burns, and the act of breathing has become a painful reminder of her insatiable craving for blood.
