Page 40 of Our Sins in Shadows (Coven of Sin 2)

The teen shoved past us and led the way down the hall with purpose in her stride, her blonde coils bouncing around her shoulders. Two men flanked us from behind while the remaining two grabbed me by the arms.

“Shit. This is the half-blood princess? She smells like heaven.” One from behind groaned in a voice that was probably too low for Lavinia to hear. “Just the scent of her is making my dick hard.”

“The smell of any mortal blood makes your dick hard, Marcus,” his companion said with a chuckle.

“It’s not her blood. Can’t you smell it? This bitch is as fertile as they come. It’s like her little cunt’s weepin’ for my dick.”

“Don’t touch her. It’s not worth it.”

“I know, I know. The old king’s coming back, supposedly. But say he does. Would he kill me if I’m the sire of his grandkid?”

Even with the IUD implant, these idiotic males didn’t seem to be able to tell the difference. I released a bit more of the pheromone, and the men holding my arms stiffened, the tendons in their necks going taut. The vampire named Marcus let out a frustrated groan, and just as I hoped, his already flimsy restraint crumbled as he helped himself to a very enthusiastic handful of my ass.

Jerking my arm from the vampire’s grip on my right, I seized the hand of the male that assaulted me and locked my gaze with his. I took thorough pleasure in the unadulterated panic flashing in his eyes as he felt my strength and the pure miasma of wrath radiating from me like a volcano ready to erupt.

“You dare lay a hand on the princess with the intent to mate her, you had better have an offering of flesh prepared.”

Processing my words, the vampire’s expression morphed into a seedy grin. “Oh, I’ve got an offering of flesh for you alright—Arrrrgh!”

I ripped off Marcus’ arm with one easy tug, the crack of bone and snap of ligaments drowned out by his shrill scream.

Lavinia stopped where she had trudged some ways ahead of us down the wall, peering back with a frown. The three other vampires took a few steps away from me, watching in stupefied horror as I pressed the one-armed man against the hallway wall, which was now splattered with his own blood.

“Still want to fuck me, Marcus?” I asked through a honey-sweet smile, waggling his appendage in front of his face. The male whimpered, and I snorted a laugh, throwing the arm down at his feet. “Didn’t think so.”

“Pity,” Lavinia muttered, looking down on the man as he sagged to the floor with not a trace of pity in her stony expression. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I turned on my heel, leaving the one-armed vampire behind in a pool of his blood to follow Lavinia, noting the way the remaining kept a wider breadth between us.

When we arrived at the end of the hall, stopping at an inconspicuous-looking door, Lavinia ordered the guards to stand sentry.

I stepped inside, my curious gaze sweeping over the room. It was smaller than I expected. I had thought maybe she’d just take me right to this “dome room” where I was sure every single one of the Boston vampires—minus the handful of dead ones I’d left in my wake—would be waiting.

This room was fairly small and dimly lit, with dark painted walls to create a moody atmosphere and a sitting area comprising of PVC furniture—the kind that was easy to wipe clean—in the middle of the space.

A pair of vanity tables sat against the wall, with lightbulb-lined mirrors like I’d seen in movies, the kind that stage actresses used to primp before their entrance.

My eyes almost immediately went to the wall where a rack had been mounted, vaguely reminding me of Eros’ tool bench. But instead of pliers and shears and stakes made out of silver and sharpened wood, there were straps, floggers, gags, and a whole assortment of things I couldn’t even begin to name, made out of leather and silicone.

Beside the rack was a black armoire with a polished veneer. I didn’t have to open it to know what kind of outfits I’d find in there.

“What is this place?” I asked Lavinia, chewing on my lip.

“The dressing room.”

“For what exactly?” I swallowed, even though I was putting two and two together.

The girl sniffed, turning her nose up at the collection of adult items. As always, her demeanor was one of indifference. “For the actors. The Boston Coven is very enthusiastic about its theater. Beyond that door, you’ll find yourself on a stage.”

The teen vampire pointed at another door across the room, opposite the one we’d entered.

Something told me the sort of shows they put on weren’t the kind of thing you’d find on Broadway.

My mind went crazy with all the possibilities of what might lie in wait for me behind that door. Would the stage be empty, and they’d just expect Vincent and me to fuck on the floor? Would there be a bed at least? Would there be more bondage paraphernalia like the stuff in here?

It didn’t matter what kind of fucked-up scene they’d set for us.

As long as Vincent was on the other side of that door.

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