I couldn’t wait a second longer. Flying out from behind the bookcase, I flung myself between my father and my mate while grappling for the invisible tethers of the spell. I threw everything into my magic, wrestling the vampire king’s will with every drop of rage and resolve I could muster.

My magic hit him square in the chest with such force that the ancient vampire stumbled back. He crashed into a bookcase behind him, sending it toppling over. Books spilled over the floor, and some hurtled into the fire. My breath caught when the flames jumped onto a trail of books, setting the whole shelf ablaze. It spread so fast, the place might as well have been doused in gasoline.

The vampire king straightened to his full height, orange flames leaping behind him, creating one hellish nightmare of a visual.

Fuck. I really was Satan’s daughter. Or technically, his granddaughter. Tamping down on my nerves, I braced myself for another magical push, but he was behind me in a heartbeat. I spun and stifled a scream at seeing him dragging Sterling through the flame-filled library, crawling on top of a shelf and hanging him from the chandelier suspended overhead.

He’s a vampire; he can’t be hanged. And even if he could, this isn’t real. None of this is real.I had to tell myself that over and over again. But every time I repeated it, the deeper the hollow sensation in my chest stretched.

“Let him go,” I croaked, gaping up at Sterling as he pulled at the thorn noose in vain.

Tying off a knot to a candelabra mounted on the wall, the king jumped to the ground and faced me with an empty smile that was unsettling as fuck on my brother’s face. “I will if you stop fighting me for control.”

He held out his hand to me. Ominous harpsichord music, paired with some bone-rattling organ music, blared overhead. “Dance with me, little gem. Your mother was such a lovely dancer. I wonder if you got that from her too.”

“Eat shit and die, Dad,” I said, hacking a mouthful of spit on his face right between his eyes. Yeah, so not the smartest idea. But I was pissed and ready to throw fists. Not dance.

He closed his eyes, breathing a deep sigh. When he opened them, he was all smiles once again. “Now that I see that you’re capable of wielding my magic, it makes me even more curious to see what else you’ve inherited. So, I have a proposition for you. One that you’re going to want to hear.”

With his hand still outstretched, he curled a finger toward me, beckoning me closer.

“All you have to do is give me the honor of dancing with my daughter.”

Chapter twenty-eight

Dance with the Devil

Igapedatmyfather’s outstretched hand, trying to catch my breath as my pulse launched into warp speed.

He wanted me to dance with him. What kind of fucked-up game was he playing?

I looked up, acrid tears rolling down my cheeks as I watched Sterling thrash and claw at the bramble cinching his neck. The library’s ceilings were so high that his feet dangled a few meters over my head. As a vampire, lack of oxygen wasn’t an issue for him, but it was still horrifying to watch my mate hang by the neck.

My throat went painfully taut when the prince’s eyes locked with mine, and he ceased his struggles as a tremulous moment bounced between us.

“D–don’t,” he warned, his voice as flayed as his throat. “D–don’t let him use me against you.”

Sterling’s windpipe made an unsettling gurgling sound the moment the vampire king snapped his fingers, the vine entwining tighter around the priest’s neck.

I dropped my glare back to my father as cold fury lashed up my spine. “Sorry, dance card’s full.” I spat at him again, this time into his outstretched palm.

The vampire’s line of sight trailed to his palm that glistened in the twisting flames as they raged around us. “You’ve inherited your mother’s spirited nature.” His lip curled. “And her impudence.”

Moving faster than the human eye could follow, he lunged for me as his arm shot out. There was no competing with his speed at this proximity. His long fingers cuffed my throat. I sputtered, the air in my windpipe slamming against the roadblock his grip created. He held me so tight I couldn’t get so much as a drop of oxygen into my lungs, and black spots dotted my vision.

He brought his face close to mine, leaving barely more than a hair’s breadth between my nose and my brother’s. He still looked like Dagon, and it was unsettling as fuck. Probably because I knew just how little he cared for the necromancer. All Dagon was to the ancient monster was a tool. A body to wear and use. Sure, Dagon was a prick, and I didn’t feel sorry for him. But it wasn’t exactly a comfort knowing just how little Thomas Knight cared for his biological children.

“I regret being gentle with your mother. She took advantage of my affinity for her and grew too bold with me. Don’t make that same mistake.”

If I could, I would have laughed in his face. Was this his way of telling me I was growing on him? My stomach heaved at the thought. Being on the vampire king’s shit list was better than being someone he cared for. For those on the former list, at least you died quickly. For the unlucky few to end up on the latter list, you got to be the plaything of the world’s deadliest predator.

And this was a lion who liked to play with his toys long after they broke.

“Look at you.” The king’s voice dropped an octave, grating over my sweaty brow and filling me with an arctic chill despite the fire consuming the old manor library. “So stubborn. So full of life.”

He ran his nose over my jugular as his thumb stroked the dip in my collarbone. “Every bit of you reminds me of her. Brimming with life, with energy.” He breathed in my scent, making me shiver. “But beneath your light, you’ve got a darkness inside you. A chaotic beast with instincts that terrify you. Don’t they, little gem?”

He pushed out a smug grunt when he saw the answer in my eyes. “Hmm. Yes. That part of you is a product of me.”