Markov rights me and turns me to face him. He’s trying to hold my attention, but I keep glancing over my shoulder, back at the woman I attacked.
“Every Born is different when they Resurrect,” Markov explains, grabbing my face and forcing me to look at him. He produces a handkerchief from his breast pocket and begins cleaning my face. It comes away with so much blood. “Some are Born with great amounts of self-control. Others cannot fight the bloodlust. But both are natural, my dear. Do not fight what you are. It will only bring you misery.”
“Markov…” I say in horror and self-disgust. “I cannot be a blood-driven, psychotic murderer. I…” I pant, trying to reign myself in. “I have to get a grip on myself. I have to learn to control it.”
Markov takes both my hands in his and looks me deep in the eyes. “You will. Eventually. But this is not the party to feel guilty over feeding.”
His eyes dart around the room, and my own follow suit.
Samuel stands in one corner, his hands on the hips of a beautiful young woman, his fangs sunk into her neck. Lillian seems to be holding a normal conversation with another woman, when the next moment, the woman raises her wrist and Lillian sinks her teeth into her flesh.
Cameron walks across the room, toward the food table, and I see him wipe a smear of blood from the corner of his mouth onto his sleeve.
I think I’ve been in denial the last few months since I created my own House. I’ve chosen to ignore their basic instincts. When I first arrived in Silent Bend, I attended a party thrown by Jasmine—and the entire purpose of it was to feed off of the townspeople. Every one of my House members, besides Nial, was at that party and fed off those people.
Now, I am one of them.
I do not know where that woman I bit is from—Silent Bend, across the river—it doesn’t matter. I am no different than any of them.
“The King had them all brought here for this very purpose,” Markov says as he lets me go and stands beside me. “We would have offended him had we not fed and accepted his gift.”
I find the King in the middle of the room. Two gorgeous but very fake-looking women cling to his side, their hands all over him. He smiles, the look in his eyes sultry, and he sinks his teeth into one of their necks.
“I understand,” I say. And I think I feel a little part of my humanity die with the words. “Enjoy the party, Markov. You do not need to babysit me. You feed as you need.”
I hear the movement as he turns to look at me. He studies me for a moment, waiting for me to take it back. He made me a promise once, that he wouldn’t feed in my town. But I’ve given permission. Finally, he takes a step forward, then two, and finds a feeder.
“You look lovely tonight.”
I turn to find Raheem behind me.
He wears a black tunic, adorned in gold stitching and beading. It’s complicated and beautiful. Black trousers and a golden turban. He looks like a Middle Eastern prince.
And that pull I have to him intensifies inside me.
“I’m a mess,” I say, the dismay obvious in my voice.
And it’s true. Markov cleaned the blood from my face, but it still clings to my neck, runs down my chest, between my breasts. It stains the gold sweetheart neckline of Lillian’s beautiful dress.
Raheem shakes his head. “Your true nature is a beautiful thing. I believe vampirism brings out the brightest of our true character. And being true to ourselves is something we should never be ashamed of.”
“I’ve exerted extreme control ever since I claimed my birthright,” I say as I take another step toward him. Raheem’s eyes flick to Cyrus. He’s nervous. We’re pushing it. But I take one more step toward him. “But since my Resurrection, I’ve killed a person without realizing what was going on. I would have killed that woman behind you had someone not stopped me. Are you saying losing control is my true nature?”
He glances once more over at Cyrus, but when he looks back at me, his eyes are dark and soulful. “I’m saying your true self is being true to your instincts. Your instincts knew how to lead. Your new instincts know how to survive. You are both your past and present selves, Alivia.”
And the way Raheem says my name, I swear it’s different than the way anyone else has ever said it.
I look over my shoulder and find Cyrus still wrapped up with his two feeders. I face Raheem once again. Testing fate and the wrath of a King, I reach up with one hand and grab the front of Raheem’s shirt. We are so close together, I can feel the warmth of his body and his breath against my face.
“Do you still wish things could be different?” I ask quietly. “Now that I have become what I was born to be?”