Page 156 of Our Sins in Blood (Coven of Sin 1)

All the guys needed to understand that I could handle them, no matter what kind of baggage they had. I wanted them, and whatever twisted fetishes, dark pasts, and monstrous appetites any of them could throw my way. I decided right then that if I managed to get out of this place alive, the first thing I’d do would be to hunt Vincent down and tell him how it was going to be.

He was going to be my mate, along with the others. And he was going to let me love him, damn it. Monster and all.

I raised my hand to my tiara, remembering the tracker. Corry would have realized I’d left by now. Would he get here in time?

Would he bring Sterling?

I wished I could wait for them. But there just wasn’t time. I could sense Eros inside. He was badly hurt, and there was no reasoning with my instincts. Everything inside pushed me toward my mate.

Scanning the exterior of the building, my attention landed on a door that had been left open. Getting closer, the little hairs on my nape bristled when I picked up Sharpe’s scent. My heart lifted when I detected the soothing aroma of cloves and smoke just beneath Sharpe’s.

Pushing my way through, I found myself in a huge room filled with heavy machinery. The place was creepy as hell, with conveyor belts, rusted metal scraps lying around, and huge hooks dangling from the ceiling. Whatever this facility had produced, it had only been abandoned for a hot minute. It smelled stale and vaguely of a dead animal, not to mention all the creaking. The whole building groaned quietly, chains shifting in a windless breeze.

It reminded me of a dark dream, perhaps belonging to some ancient god.

It was spooky as fuck.

“Ruby? Damn it. Please, for the love of blood, tell me that’s not you,” a familiar voice, though weak and grated, sounded from the center of the room.

With my heart in my throat, I crawled over the equipment to see Eros on the ground. He’d been dumped unceremoniously on a pile of leaves and trash that was now soaked through with blood. He lifted his face, and my stomach cartwheeled, seeing how swollen and angry his flesh still was. His body was trying its best to heal, but something was binding his arms behind his back which just seemed to be hurting him even more. By the sour scent of charred flesh, I ventured a guess that it was silver.

The vampire gave a pained growl the moment he registered me, but I had a feeling it had little to do with his wounds. “No!No, you shouldn’t have come!”

He looked pissed, enraged that I had come for him. I crumpled to my knees beside him, running my hand through his blond hair, crusted in black blood. “I couldn’t leave you to die.”

“You had to know this was a trap. You have to run, now!”

My fists clenched into balls on my thighs, and I shook my head. “No, I’m not leaving without you.”

A jarring snarl unleashed from deep in Eros’ chest, struggling against the cuffs on his wrist, steam from his sizzling flesh coiling up through the air. For a second, I thought his rage was directed at me, but his blazing glare was directed to something behind me.

With my pulse set to warp speed, I turned to see Sharpe stepping out from the shadows. He wasn’t alone. At least a dozen men flanked his sides. They were equipped with assault rifles and earpieces, looking like the villain’s cronies from some shlocky spy movie. They fanned out, surrounding us with their guns pointed.

“Silver bullets,” Sharpe said through a malevolent smile. “If you’re wondering if bullets can kill vampires, silver-tipped bullets can, so I’d advise you not to take the advice of your mate, Princess. My employer will be very unhappy if I bring you back dead. However, seeing as he is a powerful necromancer, it won’t be too much of a grievance.”

A chill skittered down my spine that sunk deep into my bones, all the way down to the marrow. Sharpe’s statement had been terrifyingly informative. First, Feral had been right.

Sharpe was the mole working for the Boston Coven.

Second, they were armed with silver, and they didn’t seem too bent up about the prospect of murdering us.

Lastly, whoever he was working for was a…necromancer? The fact that magic existed made sense. If vampires could wipe the memory of humans, and people could turn into ravens and wolves, of course, magic existed. Butnecromancy?What a terrifying power that no one should have, especially evil vampire overlords.

Eros spat blood in Sharpe’s direction. “Traitor! How can you work for the Boston Coven trash? And since when is their leader a necromancer?”

Sharpe’s beady eyes glittered with impish amusement. It made my stomach heave, seeing just how much twisted enjoyment he was getting from this whole situation. “Oh no, Erik isn’t a necromancer, and I don’t work for him. We serve the same master, however.”

“And who is that?” I demanded, rising to my feet.

Sharpe’s grin spread wide as if he was about to deliver a long-anticipated punchline to a good joke. “Why, Dagon Knight, of course. The true heir to the throne.”

A barbed silence settled over the room, which was shattered a few beats later by Eros’ sneer. “Dagon Knight, the true heir to the throne? You’re kidding. He’s not even supposed to be alive. He was murdered on account of being as crazy as our maker! The Elders would never appoint him to the throne.”

“The Elders.” A vein bulged in Sharpe’s brow, his tone dripping with sardonicism. “The rest of the Elders will acknowledge Dagon Knight as the true king once he’s the only living heir.”

Eros let out a dark bark of a laugh. “So that’s your great plan? You’re going to kill us? I might be halfway to Hell already, but what about Feral? And Corry Cross? Even if you manage to murder them and cover it up, what about Sterling? You and your whole trash coven aren’t strong enough to face him, let alone the rest of the powerful vampire families supporting us. It would take an entire army, which you don’t have. Boston Coven might be the largest den of vampires on the East Coast, but they’re not strong enough to take us down, not with every other den on the continent loyal to the Elders behind us.”

“You’re right. If this blew out into a full war, we would lose in all likelihood. The Elders would never agree to give Dagon the throne unless he was the last option. Therefore, you and your brothers must die. And you’re right. We’re not strong enough to kill all of you.” Sharpe licked his lips, his shit-eating grin making my skin crawl. “But Thomas Knight is.”

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