Page 70 of Our Sins in Silver (Coven of Sin 3)

I knew that because it was the same one Eros had shoved inside me the first night we’d spent together, the one he’d been cautious to wear gloves before handling.

The silver couldn’t really hurt Thomas Knight while in this farce of a reality, but when I brandished it, the vampire’s eyes flashed with fear, and he lurched backward, hissing.

Just like Sterling had shied away from the sun, even knowing it was all an illusion, the vampire king instinctively recoiled from the silver. He dropped the iron stake he held and leapt against the wall, clinging to it like a spider.

Straightening, I stalked forward, brandishing a crazed and rueful grin. “Wow. So even the big bad vampire king is scared shitless of a simple silver stake. I’ll note that. You’d think you’d have figured out a way to be immune to this shit by now.”

I sent out my feelers, trying to snag back the magic controls he held over the spell. But before I could get my bearings, the scene shifted around me in a whirlwind of colors and sounds. My guts churned, and my skull split like something huge was forcing itself into my brain.

The icy nails of dread clawed down my back as I realized that’s exactly what was happening. Out of Sterling’s mind we went, hurtling into mine and giving Daddy Dearest access to all my memories.

He’d gone deeper than he had before, this time digging through everything.

Everything.

From my memories of my mom installing the locks on my bedroom door to when I’d pretended to be asleep when she’d wait until late at night to slip inside my room to leave me something that was too big to slide under my door. He dug through my memories with the princes. The first night I met Vincent when my small, little world came crashing down around me. The gas station off Route Six where Corry had bent me over his bike.

The night I tortured one of the Boston vampires with Eros watching.

The vampire king took special attention to each memory I shared with Sterling, examining every damn word exchanged, every kiss. Especially the day I’d shared with the eldest prince in the attic that had once served as his master’s den.

For whatever reason, it was one particular memory from my time at the Boston Coven that my father chose to summon. A memory that I’d rather rip my own fangs out than revisit with my father.

I was on my back, sweltering stage lights blaring down on me. A man loomed over me, blocking me from the audience that leered down at us from where we lay on the bed. Vincent’s silhouette loomed over me, the harsh lighting illuminating the edges of his vicious grin.

Just like with Eros, my father’s eyes burned from my mate’s eye sockets, viewing the memory from Vincent’s point of view.

It was all I could do to keep down the bile that bubbled in my throat.

When Vincent opened his mouth to make the vow to bring me Dagon’s heart, it was my father’s voice that came out instead.

“Two nights. That’s what I’m giving you, little gem. Two nights to prepare. Assemble whatever pathetic army you can, and when I arrive, I’ll take control over your precious mates. Every single one. And I’ll enjoy watching them tear you apart. Just. Like. This.”

A numb paralysis spread through my limbs. At first, I felt nothing. My heart still beat; my lungs siphoned air in and out. But with it came no discernible sensation. Nothing but emptiness.

The vampire king had taken a moment where I’d found power and made every attempt he could to desecrate it and turn it ugly.

He had no fucking limits. There was no line the vampire king wouldn’t cross if it meant winning his throne back.

And it was his evil threat that summoned an unholy fire in my lungs with every breath of air I sucked in, spreading through my body and filling me with unbound strength.

That’s it. I’d had enough of this bloody fucking shit show.

I made a mental lunge for a hold over the spell, summoning my magic like I never had before.

The vampire’s pupils blew wide, then shrunk to cat-like slits as we went head to head in a magical battle for control over the mental link. “Your monster may have strong intuition over our bloodline’s arcana, but that’s not enough to best your sire. I have three thousand years of experience over you, girl!”

His tone shook, and I scraped every bit of my monster from the deepest parts of my being.

And she answered. The illusion went static, and I sensed him trying to keep it together. My lips curled into a sly smile as the scene cracked, pieces of the memory clattering to the ground like a mirror shattering in slow motion.

“I am a Helsing,” my monster bellowed, voice demonic and multilayered. “And I’m the one who’s going to send you back to the bowels of Hell where you belong, Father!”

With unhinged strength, speed and nerve, I pounced and closed the distance between me and my father. Grabbing a fistful of his—Vincent’s—hair, I tore off his head and tossed it to the side with a sickening thunk. The illusion’s body remained upright for a few hammering heartbeats while black magic and oily energy oozed upward like smoke from the stump.

When the body hit the ground, it fizzled and exploded into dust while the rest of the spell disintegrated.

There was no sense of victory. Yes, I’d broken the spell. But Thomas Knight’s words played in my ear.

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