Page 121 of Claimed By Blood

I don’t believe it.

Frost turns first, and Silas and I abandon my broken room in favour of hunting down Draven. The scent of blood coming from the end of the hallway only pushes us to move faster. He’s inside Cain’s personal chambers—a room few people ever saw. Buried in the wall behind him is a silver stake, and another is sticking out of his thigh, which explains the blood.

He yanks the stake free, and I wordlessly offer him my wrist, but he ignores me. “This painting is protected.”

The picture in question is a dark, desolate landscape depicting a large boulder and a spindly tree. It’s old and faded, but otherwise unremarkable.

There’s no reason for Cain to protect it.

Silas reaches for the frame, taking a step forward, only to jerk backwards as the tile gives way beneath him. A hissing sound fills the air a second before another stake comes zooming out.

Silas drops like a sack of potatoes, hitting the ground just as the weapon soars through the space where his chest was moments ago.

“You could’ve warned me!” he growls, as Draven chuckles. “How many stakes are loaded into that thing, anyway?”

I take a step forward, only for Frost to hold me back. “I’ll go first,” he mutters.

Avoiding the pressure plate that Silas set off, he cautiously runs his hand along the edge of the frame.

“Don’t press the button on the base,” Draven calls. “That’s how I got the one in my leg.”

“Oh sure, warnhim,” Silas says, glaring at the vampire. “Don’t worry about me, though.”

“Payback for the damned pranks.” Draven finally takes my offered wrist, latching on slowly and meeting my eyes as he does so.

His venom is a languid pulse in my veins this time. A promise of what he’d do to me if we were alone. Enough to leave a trickle of arousal threading through my veins, but not so much that I can’t think past the urge to jump his bones.

When he withdraws, his leg as good as new, I can’t help but sigh. His tongue darts across my skin, chasing the last drops of ruby red and sealing the wound in one sweep.

I turn around just as Frost steps away from the painting, and it swings sideways to reveal a secret nook…

With a ladder disappearing down into the darkness beyond.

“So,” Silas whistles. “Who wants to be the first one to go down the creepy old ladder that’s probably also covered in traps?"

“Scared?” Draven mocks, stepping forward. “Don’t worry, wolfie, I’ll protect you.”

But the second he places his hand on the ladder, he hisses and withdraws it.

“Who’s scared now?” Silas taunts.

“It’s silver,” Draven retorts. “Looks like Cainreallydidn’t want anyone coming down here.”

“We can go back and get gloves,” Frost mutters.

“I’ll go,” Silas mutters, heading for the door.

Curiosity tugs me forward, and I carefully avoid the pressure plate on the floor as I lean over the ladder, trying to see down to the bottom.

It’s too dark for me to make out much.

“It might just be an escape tunnel,” I suggest. “It would make sense for there to be several around the mansion, just in case. Cain couldn’t be killed, but he was always paranoid.”

“That makes no sense,” Draven replies. “If you’re immortal, why be afraid of anything…”

I grimace. “He’s been imprisoned before. Betrayed by one of his sons, who used lycans to outnumber him and force him into a silver cage. It was years before my time, but he told me about it once.”

“Why tell you that?” Frost asks.

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