Page 21 of Claimed By Blood

When she tosses it at our sire’s feet, Cain just yawns.

“Leave her feet, Callista. I’ve had enough disappointment in the last five minutes to last me for the next century.”

Callie steps back, leaving Morwen to spit her own blood on the floor. The two of us must make a pathetic sight, but there’s satisfaction in Cain’s gaze as Callie returns to her seat. He offers her his pocket square to wipe her hands with, and I swear her smile lights up the room.

She’s a fool. He’s not happy with her performance. He’s approving because it proved that neither Morwen nor I am any true threat to him.

The fact that he sees Morwenasa potential threat is a useful piece of information, and I file it away for safekeeping.

“Evelyn, you’re an embarrassment.” He spits the word like a verbal slap. “Drink from your thrall before you pass out, then report to the lycan compound with Morwenna. She can make use of the feet I’ve allowed her to keep by sparring with you until you remember how to use that sword I gave you.”

The gurgle that echoes from Morwen’s mouth is obviously one of complaint. Seconds later, one of her eyes is gouged out. Cain flicks his wrist, and the blood-splattered orb flies across the room like a gory ping-pong ball with the attached nerve flying behind it like a tail. It bounces from the wall with a wet sound and rolls across the floor until it comes to a stop in a pool of blood.

“If I hear one more noise from you”—Cain’s tone is deceptively pleasant as he sits on his throne, licking Morwen’s blood from his fingers—“I’ll lock you in your sister’s coffin.”

My crazy sister just smiles, bowing to him.

How she manages to make the gesture of obeisance look sarcastic is beyond me.

A wrist presses against my mouth, distracting me. The first lungful of Draven’s scent makes my fangs drop, and I sink them into his vein without waiting. I’m still in pain, but I make a point to meet Callie’s eyes as I drink and smirk.

She might’ve turned him, but I plan to make it very clear that Draven is mine now. Between us, the thrall bond vibrates with possessiveness, shaking free of the emotionless barrier I erected to conceal it.

Then I remember what’s at stake and dart a glance at Immy.

Shit. That one impulsive move has given us away.

Her eyes are wrinkled with concern, but she doesn’t seem suspicious.

I wait a heartbeat without breathing for her to speak up. To out me.

“Every time Evelyn loses,” Cain adds, eyes narrowing on me now. “You may take one of her thrall’s fingers. When he runs out of those, move onto his toes. After that… get creative. Neither of you are to return to Court until she’s no longer an embarrassment.”

I frown at him as I take another mouthful of Draven’s blood.

What is he doing?

He doesn’t trust me, so why work to make me stronger? Why try to play on feelings he doesn’t want me to have for my thrall to ensure I comply?

And why hasn’t Immy said anything? I look back at my sister, searching for her motivations. It’s useless. The old Immy wore her emotions on her sleeve. This new one may as well be a statue.

None of this makes sense, and I swallow my unease.

Morwen releases an affirmative gurgle, as I withdraw my fangs from Draven’s skin, sealing the wound. I meet my sire’s stare, searching his eyes for the answer.

Nothing.

I push to my feet and bow, refusing to wince as the healing skin on my side protests being folded in half. “As you wish, sire.”

I turn on my heel and follow Morwen from the room, silently sighing in relief the moment the doors swing shut behind us.

Perhaps Immy will break the news to Cain when they’re alone. Either way, it’s out of my hands.

At least, no matter what hell my sister puts me through, I won’t have to kill anyone today. As long as I remain weak, I won’t have to. And, I now have plenty of one-on-one time with the sister who’s been elusive since the Gala.

Which means I can dig for answers.

I want to know why she didn’t kill Samuel. I want to know where he is. And, most importantly, I want to know if he really does have a way to kill Cain.

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