Page 26 of Death Comes for Her
“There was already fairy blood on this dagger when we found him.” He snapped my head back, forcing me to gaze at the wings in the glass case. “And golden blood soaked all over the front of the queen’s dress. Yet both were unharmed.” He chuckled, the sound dark and menacing. “Well, until we were done with them, that is.”
The tip of the blade kissed one of the scars on my back. Dante traced the shape, admiring the golden sheen of the raised scar tissue. His voice rumbled, “Isn’t that odd?”
I nodded, bodily shivering as the dagger trekked down my back.
“You wouldn’t be the only fairy whose wings were clipped in the hopes of being hidden. But I find there are too many coincidences to overlook sometimes.” The next time he spoke, his lips were pressed to the apex of my neck and shoulder. Something hot coiled between my hips from the heat and pressure of his mouth, paired with the illicit danger of the blade along my spine—and the threat of his words.
Sounds meant to be words tumbled past my lips. Fangs penetrating my neck cut them off, forming my noises into a shrill yelp. My body seized up, and I choked on air, eyes flaring wide.
Dante twisted his hand in my hair, holding me in place as he drank from me with a satisfied groan. The dagger at my back meant nothing compared to the bite and the venom coursing through my veins. That poisonous want twirled through my limbs and settled, heavy and burning, in my center.
Revulsion curdled my insides as desire pooled between my thighs, because the entire time Dante drank from me, intoxicated me, I riveted my eyes high above on the splayed golden wings on the wall. Silent tears cascaded down my cheeks from the onslaught of longing and self-hatred. I desired the vampire’s bite even as I stared at my mother’s severed wings with the blade against my back that had cut my own.
Chapter 9
The nightmares returned that night, worse than before. I woke in the midst of thrashing until my sheets strangled me. Gasping for air, I lurched off the bed, stumbling toward the bathroom. Only the shock of a cold bath had the chilling power to release me from the claws of woe begotten dreams.
An inkling of copper stained the horizon. With hours until daybreak, I carelessly picked a lightweight lavender dress from the wardrobe and pulled the garment on. Crim darted out from under the bed as I braided my hair to paw impatiently and mew at the door.
I followed him out into the dark hallway, accompanying the plump orange creature into the silent manor. Trailing after the fluffy tail sticking up in the air, I took the time to untangle the thoughts that had followed me into my fretful sleep.
The encounter with Dante had unmoored me, leaving me adrift in a sea of despair. Confusion roiled through me. Part of me didn’t like being touched by the vampires, but it had evolved into a strange sort of dislike because on the other hand I craved it. I longed for strong arms to wrap around me and hold me so tight that I’d never break again, yet the arms I imagined were the ones breaking me.
Dante Ambrose had my mother’s wings mounted in his office. His trophy of a war well won. And he had the dagger thathad brutalized me—the blade that had severed my connection to my family, my power, and my heritage.
I should hate him for it—I did—no, fuck, I do!
My time with the vampires was having an adverse effect on my mind. At some point, nestled in brief visits with fangs embedded in my flesh, something within me had changed. So had something in my dynamic with the undead bastards.
Addiction had become desire, and wasn’tbitealsocaress? There in that thought lingered my damnation. Touch. Touch. I wanted to be touched. The need for physical intimacy went beyond what the venom induced in my loins. It was a desperate need to be enveloped in someone’s entire being—to be devoured—because, in a way, being consumed was a sort of love and my chest ached for it.
Oh, gods, I was going mad.
Crim meowed before taking off around a corner. The sudden burst of speed snared me, and I chased after him without a second thought. He hopped up a hidden, tight set of stairs and vanished down a narrow corridor.
Strange, I thought the floor I stayed on was the topmost of the manor. My current cat-chase led me through cramped, somber spaces with long-forgotten furnishings covered in drapes and corners riddled with cobwebs. The moldering scent of dust and moth-eaten fabric assaulted my nose, but still I followed the deranged feline through the shadows.
Until he vanished entirely.
“Where have you gone, you little beast?”
A whistled whisper answered from around a door clinging to half its rusted hinges. Cool air brushed over my fingers when I reached out. A draft from outside—fresh air—kissed my skin and elicited goosebumps over my arm. I wrenched the door open, nearly tearing it off the frame in my haste to follow the breeze.
Instinct of a caged creature with a taste of freedom yanked me into a gloomy room. Across the inky pit of space, a sliver of light pooled across the uneven wooden floorboards. Each step creaked and groaned underfoot as I reached out toward a doorknob.
A narrow landing greeted me under the pale morning sky. Fresh air whipped around my face, tugging loose threads of golden hair. My eyes widened into saucers as I took in the fresh air and freedom of being outside. The doorway had taken me through a sort of attic with access to the roof of the fourth floor.
I took in the expanse of stone spires around the edge and the gargoyles roosting in the corners. For the first time in two months, I stood under the naked sky with nothing but the wind between me and that damned red moon. My eyes shuddered closed, and my arms spread wide. I spun in slow circles over the roof with giddy, breathless laughter venting through my lips.
A meow to the left made me open my eyes. Crim sat in an embrasure between the crenelated edge of the roof and licked his paws. I followed him to the edge, bracing my palms on the cool, dark stone.
Leaning forward, I swayed onto the tips of my toes, seeking out the euphoric high of being far above ground. A giggle bubbled out as I pulled myself onto the crenellations, creeping closer to the dangerous edge of the end of the world. The thin soles of my slippers gritted against the rough stone, and I flung my arms out to keep my balance.
One wrong move… one powerful gust of wind… I’d go sailing over the side. A rush of endorphins flared through my belly and cascaded through my limbs at the idea. How brilliant it would be to finally have my freedom, taken by my own hands after all this time.
I had no choice when my wings were clipped. I had no choice but to flee the palace. I had no choice of living in a barn whenit came to surviving. And I had no choice when taken by the vampires.
But death—oh, that faithful, waiting friend—that could be mine.
