Page 2 of Darkest Heart

His brows furrowed, his nose scrunching as he slowly turned his head away. “I get. You think I’m a monster.”

Monster is too kind a word.

“I’m not,” he assured, his eyes firmly on the moonlight sliding through the crack in the curtains. “There’s so much you don’t kn?”

The sound of snarling from downstairs cut him off, snapping my attention back to the ground.

It’s time.

Panicked pleas from the hundreds of people still stashed away echoed in my mind, sending me on the edge of psychosis. This was a different torture. Strapped to a chair, forced to listen to the sounds of their weekly feasts.

“Please,” a woman’s voice screeched, her panic settling unwantedly into my soul. “Not me. Pick another, please…him, he’s been here longer than me…” her voice trailed off as I zoned the woman out, focusing on the dripping from a leaky pipe.

Shut it out. Shut it out.

Panic and desperation suffocated the air, emotions banging against the barrier. The screams came, and I wrenched sobs as I listened to their torture. Bile crept up my throat, tears seeping into the corners of my eyes.

I thought the castle was hell, but it was nothing compared to this. Now I understood why they kept the aniccipere in the south and away from the rest of us. They were vile, and any notion I had of saving them, was gone.

Readying myself for the chorus of screams which would come any minute now, but even breathing had become labor as I wrestled with the poison still in my veins. If only I could touch my magic.

Astor’s voice dragged me from the trance I’d unknowingly become locked in. “They want to feed on you.” He touched the side of his neck, gulping. “Their desires are not easily managed,” he explained, as if he was doing me a favor by keeping me in this room. But we both knew I was far more useful to them alive. The aniccipere wanted my parents dead, the monarchy destroyed, and none of that could happen if the people they planned to destroy had no hope of saving me. “I’m not supposed to tell you everything yet.”

My brows furrowed as I repeated his words in my head. Intrigue pulled me to ask.

Don’t give in.

He tilted his head and rotated a ring around his finger. “Aren’t you curious? What if it includes Sebastian?”

For the first time in weeks, I spoke, my voice sounding unlike my own. “Tell me,” I croaked, becoming more aware of my thirst with each raspy breath.

His lips twitched into a curl. “I need something from you first.”

I scoffed, shaking my head, wishing I hadn’t spoken. “No.”

“Trust me, Liv, you’ll want to know what I know.”

If he wanted to play games, then fine. He’d get them. “Tell me.” I coughed, hating how weak I sounded. “Something first.”

He hesitated as his eyes were drawn back to the floor. His voice came out as a wavering mess. “I didn’t want to be a vampire,” he continued, ignoring the roll of my eyes. “The guild knew I was dying, and they wanted me to come here.”

Don’t tell me something about you.Gods, how did I not see how arrogant he was when we were together? I had to get him speaking, at least. If he talked, something could slip. Something I actually needed to know. “You went to see your dad, to say your goodbyes,” I croaked, recalling the days from the not-so-distant past when I mourned him. Oh, the days when I hoped he wouldn’t die from his cancer before coming back to me. Little did I know…

“I had to tell you that,” he stated. “The guild figured if I was going to die anyway, then why shouldn’t they send me to be a spy in the vampire kingdom? If I got killed, what did it matter?”

“Not true.”

He shot me an incredulous look. “Is it really so hard to believe? They send people here all the time, but none of them return. Or do you just notwantto believe it?”

I gripped the arms of the chair. “Is this supposed to make me feel bad for you?” I asked, my words ragged at the end. With each breath, came coughing, building rapidly until I was curled over in a spluttering fit. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I wretched.

He clicked his tongue and left the room. I dragged my sandpaper tongue against the roof of my mouth, wheezing behind closed lips.

I wondered if he’d had enough, finally leaving me alone to listen to the end of the feast. But he soon returned with a goblet filled with water. Instinctively, I tensed, as that’s how they usually delivered my poison. He brought it to my parted lips, tipping the water onto my tongue. There was no cloying aftertaste that came with the poison, so I gulped it down, realizing how desperate I appeared. But I didn’t care. Before I could take my next breath, it was gone, and I wanted more. Another cup full. Perhaps ten.

He placed the goblet on the dusty dresser. “Now we can talk.”

I cleared my throat, finding the familiar tone in my voice ringing back. “Fuck you.”

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