Page 36 of The Vampire's Mercy
Iawoke to the stink of rotting flowers.
By Aidan.
My eyes burned from the glare of a light above me. Queasiness curled sickly hands around me, my chest stinging with toxic agony.
“Shit…” I rasped.
Cold sweat beaded my brow, the rest of me shaking with fever.
The sorrow of rotting flowers infected me, my skin itching as if infested with mites.
I rolled over, adjusting to the light, which shone from a bare bulb swinging from the ceiling.
Sitting up, gagging on the acrid stink and the cloying feel of death, I rubbed my eyes. Where the hell was I? A small room with a bed and a toilet, no windows, metal bars locking me in.
Oh, shit. There were so many decaying blooms scattered around the room. Stuck to the black walls, the ceiling, stuffed under the bed, basically a carpet of death across the floor.
I retched, swallowing vomit.
A cell? A damn prison cell? If my insides weren’t under enough stress already, a fresh dose of anxiety came to join the attack.
I vomited properly, the projection a painful burn up my throat.
In Aidan’s name, I was screwed.
The bulb dimmed, another light flickering on beyond the bars. The vampire king stood beneath it with someone else slightly behind him. They both swam in the watery lens across my vision, the other person just out of the light.
“You’re awake.” Silvanus spoke with alluring frostiness.
I retched again.
“There’s a lot we need to talk about.”
I groaned, desperate for water. “Haven’t got it in me.” A bubble of acid burst in the back of my throat. “Please… Please take these flowers away.”
He responded with a firm, “No.”
“Please…”
“Not until we get to the bottom of something.”
“Then you?—”
“Isn’t that right, Hal?”
The world went on pause, nausea taking a coffee break.
What. The. Fuck.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I heard him say.
My instincts kicked in, forcing me to my feet, propelling me at the bars. I grabbed them, immediately sliding to my knees as the force of the dying blooms reclaimed me.
But I kept my head up, my focus on my friend still wearing the glittery black shirt and jeans combo—the uniform for the bar staff at Majestic Moon. His hand were tied behind his back, small cuts all over his face.
He kept his eyes closed.
“Hal,” I breathed. “Please…please don’t hurt him.”
