House of Royals(67)

Death.

I’m going to die.

Right now.

One of the Bitten opens the doors wide.

The sun is only faintly starting to lighten the horizon. A pale haze of gray-green on the horizon. I squint against the dark, even as I hear Lillian give a sharp intake of breath. Micah hisses, a low, throaty thing. One step. Two steps. Down I walk, toward my fate.

As I reach the bottom step, the world falls away.

There’s a figure, sitting and bound to a chair. Unconscious.

It’s Ian. Sitting before the very House I am here to protect him from.

“What’s going on?” I manage to get out. It’s a muttered, strangled thing.

“Mr. Ward here has annoyed the House for the last time,” Jasmine says as she walks down and stands behind Ian. She traces her hand along one of his shoulders, drags it behind his head and over the other shoulder as she walks around him. “He’s a nuisance to us all. We’ve been wanting to be rid of him for a year or so now, but he’s a tricky one to catch. Last night, I tasked Bronson here in tracking him down.”

“What are you going to do with him?” My voice is little more than a whisper.

“He’s a gift,” Jasmine says. She looks up at me from beneath her falsely long lashes. “For you. Once you resurrect, you will be thirsty in a way you can’t imagine. Your first feed is always a draining one. And since you had him drugged and in captivity in your own home, I thought you might want to do the honors.”

I’m pretty sure there’s no way my heart is beating anymore. My chest is an empty, hollow thing. There’s already no more blood in my body and surely I am dead already.

Maybe this is all just a nightmare.

But there’s Ian. With his head slumped to one side. His mouth hangs open just slightly. His body is entirely limp. The only reason he hasn’t collapsed to the ground is the cords that bind him to the chair.

“No,” I breathe. I shake my head. There aren’t words for the turn this evening—morning—has taken.

“No,” Jasmine says. Even as she does, I feel the crowd around me tighten. “What do you mean no? Surely he must have done something to you to warrant you drugging him and locking him up.”

Rath.

What happened to him? How did a simple Bitten get past Rath?

What have I done?

“This is a gift, Alivia,” Jasmine says. Her eyes grow dangerous and dark. She walks slowly toward me. Micah’s hand suddenly clamps down around my wrist. Trinity grabs my other. Instinctively, I fight against them. “We could have made you go into town and hunt down your own first meal like an animal. But here we are, offering you a gift, like the royalty that you are. You should be thanking us. Unless there’s a reason you object to the specific meal?”

And there’s a beat. In my chest. In my ears. In my throat. Throughout my entire body.

“I can’t,” I say. My voice is barely heard. “Not him.”

“Why not?” Jasmine asks. Her own voice grows lower and quieter with each syllable. And a red glow ignites in her eyes.

“Not him,” I breathe, shaking my head.

I feel Lillian’s hand on my shoulder from behind. It tells me not to say a word. That revealing the truth will only make things worse.

But I can’t.

“She loves him.” It’s Markov. His voice is thoughtful. Slightly amused. But there’s a hint of reverence in it.

Everyone is silent as Jasmine walks up to me. I feel her eyes burning into me. She’d kill me now if she knew I wouldn’t resurrect. But I don’t look at her. I simply stare at Ian.

I did this. If I hadn’t drugged him, he would have easily fought that Bitten off. He would have killed him. Ian wouldn’t be here right now. And I wouldn’t be asked to kill him.

All my organs turn to lead as Ian’s eyes flutter open.

No! I internally beg. Don’t wake up. Please don’t witness this. Please, no!

Jasmine still stares at me, but I can only watch in horror as Ian struggles to clear the fog from his head.

Slowly, he lifts it. His eyes are squeezed closed for a moment. He stretches his neck from one side to the other. A low groan makes its way from his chest.

And every pair of vampire eyes snaps to him.

“Holy shit,” Ian breathes when he finally opens his eyes. He takes everyone in, blinking rapidly as if to make what he’s seeing fade into a dream. His eyes land on me last. They grow in terror. “Liv,” he breathes. “Liv, don’t do this! Please, don’t do this!”

My throat tightens. Tears once again spring into my eyes.

I’ve ruined everything.

“Liv,” Ian whispers. I see moisture gleaming in his own eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I say. But I doubt he can hear it.