Page 2 of Claimed By Blood

He nods to a footman by the door, who brings forward a pewter tray covered with a wrinkled piece of dark silk and sets it on a small table in the centre of the room. The servant bows deeply to his lord before making a hasty retreat back to his post.

Cain strides through the girls towards the table and rips the cover away, displaying five long daggers, polished to a blinding sheen.

What is he up to?

“I had these commissioned especially for this evening,” he begins, holding one up to the light. “The workmanship is exquisite; I think you’ll all agree.” He hands it to a girl with bright blonde hair, letting her test the weight of it. “Now, you’ll be locked in this room until dawn. When I return, I will take the five girls holding these knives as my daughters. You’ll be raised and educated and given the best life money can buy. When you’re old enough, I’ll even pass on my gifts. The rest of you—the ones who don’t manage to get one of these pretty little blades—will be killed.”

I barely have time to process what he said before an older, dark-skinned girl with corkscrew curls lets out a war cry that would make the women of Sigurd’s country proud. She rushes towards the table, pushing aside the handful of girls between her and the blades to grab one, before leaping over the top, aiming for Cain’s heart.

Our sire catches her with both of her wrists in one hand and holds her out at arm’s length, smirking.

Foolish child, but her bravery is commendable. I wonder which of my brothers brought her in.

“Nice try.” He slings her to one side without care.

She collides with two other girls, taking them both down to the floor.

Without speaking another word, Cain turns on his heel and strides from the room, letting the heavy lock snick shut behind him.

There’s a clatter as the blonde drops the knife she was handed. The sound echoes louder than a thunderclap in the otherwise silent hall.

Then the furore begins.

I turn away as blood starts to flow. Sweet Christ. I brought some of those girls here.

I broughtherhere. Now her life is in greater peril than it would’ve been had I just left her alone. I’m as culpable as Cain is. Someone has to stop this…

My thoughts must show on my face, because the others notice.

“What’s wrong, little brother?” Sigurd asks, lounging on the edge of the balcony with a grin. “Lost your stomach for blood this eve?”

His fangs are out, the bastard. He’s actually salivating over the thought of being amongst the bloodshed below. Probably getting off on their screams.

Sick swiving whoreson. I hope whichever of those girls kills us makes his death hurt.

“Trouble, my sons?”

I should’ve expected he’d come up here to watch. I’m not sure if Cain is more interested in watching the seeds of discord he’s been sewing between us sprout, or the girls below battle for the chance to live past morning. Perhaps he’s come to witness both.

Whatever his reasons, I no longer have any way of rescuing the girl without drawing his attention to her. If I do that and he finds out who she is…

“Sire.” I drop a hasty bow. “Is this truly necessary? Surely interviewing them would suffice? Killing babes…”

“The strong will survive, and only the strong deserve what I have to offer them.” Cain brushes off my concern with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

Shite, I didn’t mean to draw his attention to me. Now that he knows he’s drawn a reaction, he’ll watch me more closely.

“As you say,” I grind out, cursing myself silently as another scream echoes from below.

“Watch, Samuel. You’ll see how only cunning and strength will win this test.”

With my sire’s orders hanging over me, I can do little else but turn back to the massacre and watch the horror he’s unleashed.

The instant I look over the railing my eyes are drawn straight toher. She’s covered in blood, holding one of the knives in both hands like it’s a sword—and to one of her size, I suppose it could be. She’s kneeling on top of the corpse of a bigger, burlier girl, staring down the rest of the room like she’s challenging them to come and take the blade from her.

None of them dare.

Did she attack first, or was she merely defending herself?

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