Chapter 11

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Watching droplets of water leak from a rusted, black metal pipe, I sat naked in a tub, submerged up to my chest in cold, blood-tinted water. Razor-focused on the slow and steady pings, I breathed deeply, each exhale trickling from my lips as I tried not to think about the hunger clawing at my insides.

My body shook, painful tremors rattling my bones.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

My skin itched, but I resisted the urge to rip it off with my nails and clamped my fists shut under the water instead.

This was madness. I knew what my body needed and being denied that necessity mauled my senses.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Seeking an ounce of relief from the tight cramps in my gut, I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the back of the tub, continuing to breathe deeply, hoping the quiet would silence my cravings.

But all that did was heighten my hearing, and the tiny drops turned to loud, piercing echoes bouncing off the walls in the windowless, all-white washroom—rather, what used to be an all-white washroom.

I'd not been entirely careful with my recent feeding.

But if I was being forthright, I'd not cared much about being careful. In truth, I'd been shamelessly savage—as evidenced by the four lifeless human females lying next to me on the now crimson-stained marble floor, throats torn from their necks by my teeth, their spinal cords severed.

I raised my head and opened my eyes, wiping soaked hair from my face and glancing over at the bodies. The fingers on one of the females twitched.

Well…maybe I'd missed snapping one spinal cord.

I leaned back against the bathtub again.

Seemed I was five hundred years out-of-practice—or maybe just too saints-damned chafed to give a fuck about ensuring a clean feeding.

But could any of them blame me? I'd been pulled out of an iron coffin only to be locked up again. Except this time, instead of starving me, they'd chosen to feed me willing humans like some captured animal hungry for butchered meat. Both scenarios offered the same result—unsatisfied hunger.

Had they forgotten who I was? Had Luther forgotten whose blood ran through his veins? I was a predator, and predators hunted prey.

And now it had been one day—one fucking day—since I'd awoken in this new world and already, my son had shoved me inside another cage.

For my own sake, he'd said. He was too afraid I'd leave a trail of corpses lining the streets of New York City, drawing unwanted attention to myself.

I could be reckless, sure, but I wasn't an imbecile.

He'd tried to make me comfortable, tried to make me feel welcomed.

Welcomed? He'd stuck me inside an underground makeshift residence and forbade me to leave.

I flexed my fingers. Asshole forbade me to leave.

Remembering his audacity, I smashed a fist through the tiled wall next to me, chunks splashing in my bloodied water.

Regardless of the effort he'd put into fashioning my new residence after my original home, this wasn't my home, and I wasn't some callow child in need of protection.

The familiar paintings on the walls. My old books. The double-piped armchair he'd managed to preserve all these centuries. Even the charcoal-colored walls and violet bedspread. None of it made being caged any easier, especially when he treated me like I wasn't the one who created him.

But more disillusioning was the fact that half a millennium after my capture, my kin continued to dwell underground. Hiding in the darkness like vermin, feeding from hosts like pampered dolts.

I needed to be up on the streets, hunting, staking claim to what was mine. Not buried below, trapped inside four walls under the city Luther had promised was due to become my new kingdom.

He'd said it would be temporary, until I fed enough to regain my full strength.

I grunted as I returned my gaze to the slayed bodies—the day's second meal. Voluntary offerings, Luther had called them. Lilies who had proudly sacrificed themselves to revive their king.

Voluntary? Doubtful. More like subdued and forced into submission. Who willingly walks themselves into the slaughterhouse for a king they'd never served? One they neither loved nor feared.

I'd about had my fill of insipid blood.

Pushing up from the bath, water slid off my renewed muscles and sloshed over the tub's lips as I climbed out. Making sure not to step on any blood-soaked tiles, I climbed around the dead females and stood over the one undergoing the transition, her nipples still peaked.

She'd been quite fun moments earlier, satisfying at least one need. But now? My nose scrunched, my back growing rigid with disgust.

She was becoming a strigoi, a monstrous aberration birthed by death.

Death brought upon by a vampire's bite, that is. The sight was repulsive, yet fascinating if you'd never seen one. I'd been witness to many transformations in my lifetime to be mesmerized by the rankness.

Rolling a listless gaze over her naked torso, I watched her entire body twitch, dark veins webbing across her once olive-toned skin—skin now grayish in color—as black, razor-sharp nails elongated from her fingertips.

Bones cracked and muscles ripped as she morphed into a stronger and faster lurid form of herself. My chest puffed and I put my hands on my waist. The transformation was almost complete. It was now too late to sire her. Not that I had any desire to father any more children. One failure was enough.

But I could have terminated the change at any point. Could have stopped the toxin from spreading. Could have stopped her body from convulsing. Could have stepped on what remained of her neck and crumbled her spine until it was nothing but powdered bones. Yet, I continued to watch, unblinking, letting it all unfold.

Her eyes snapped open, and I flinched, chuckling at myself. Didn't think anything could send my heart racing any longer. Guess I'd been wrong. But at least the heat of excitement spreading through my veins had chased away the burning ache in my stomach.

For now.

She stared blankly at the ceiling, the green hue of her irises darkened to coal-black, a sign the toxin in my saliva had finally transmuted her body. Without warning, she leapt off the floor, landing on her haunches with swift ease, forcing me to take a couple of steps back.

I smirked. Their instincts were primitive and quite predictable, but this one seemed different, its eyes flashing with awareness, as if something ticked in its brain. It didn't attack right away; instead, it bounced on the balls of its heels as if strategizing its attack, perhaps thinking itself a formidable match against me.

Interesting.

Two rows of yellowed fangs protruded from its gums as it tried to growl at me, except it couldn't since its throat was missing.

Unlike vampires, strigoi didn't heal. They could, however, still function with critical wounds. The only way to kill one was to sever the spine.

It bared its fangs, angry claws swiping at the air as it dashed for me. These mindless, barbaric creatures had one need—kill anything that lived and feast on its flesh, even vampire flesh.

Without expunging a single breath, I snatched it by its mangled neck before it even took two steps. Lifting it off the floor, I stared into its black eyes as its feet dangled. Thrashing, the strigoi swiped at me with its claws, but I held it far away enough that my nearness was a tease.

Bile rose up my esophagus. The temporary intrigue evaporated faster than it'd appeared. This creature proved to be the same stolid nuisance as all its kind, its brain capable of understanding two basal needs—to kill and eat. Thing didn't even fight to preserve its own existence.

A being created by the same toxin flowing through my veins was trying to kill me with such poor execution, its lack of intelligence and skill made me blister with rage. What an utter waste of meat and bones.

Nothing had changed. Five hundred years without even a whisper of evolution.

These things were still ineffective hunters, merely a plague that served no purpose other than to decimate our food supply. With the help of a witch, I'd once contemplated creating an army of strigoi, only to realize not even magic could make these beings capable of following one simple command.

But Luther had centuries of technological advancement at his fingertips, and he hadn't at minimum found a way to keep humans from turning into this? What had my son been up to all this fucking time, jacking off?

Before the strigoi could take another swipe at me, I squeezed the vertebrae until the bones pulverized under my fingers and all that remained was blackened blood slicked over my palm.

The headless body slumped to the floor as the head fell in the opposite direction, landing in the bathtub with a splash.

Enough of this fucking nonsense.

"Guards," I shouted out into my bedchamber as I walked to the washbasin to rinse the bloody mess off my hand. When a muffled reply sounded outside the main door, I added, "Send someone to fetch me my clothes."

Unexpected relief stirred in my chest as I caught my reflection above the vanity, briefly dulling the tension rolling off my shoulders. I pivoted my face—left then right—letting the light of the flame-lit sconces on the walls dance off the angles of my cheekbones and the sharp edges of my jaw.

No more ashen or wrinkled skin.

Hmm.

It was as it had been, smooth and ageless, as if cut from the finest stone. As flavorless as these hosts had been, their blood had served its purpose.

The deep blue of my eyes had also been restored, but what burned behind my gaze was black rage. I allowed a ghost of a grin to form on my lips. The time for reckoning had arrived.

"My lord, I've placed your clothes on the bed," a female said, but her sweet rose scent had already floated into the washroom long before the sound of her voice reached my ears.

The notes of hesitation and nervousness in her aroma warmed my belly. Grabbing a small drying rag from the hook near the washroom door, I wrapped it around my waist, barely covering much, and exited, startling the lily as I walked out into the red-carpeted room. Gasping, a hand flew to her mouth as she snapped her gaze away from my near naked form.

A small laugh rumbled through me.

I had no urgency to dress and quite enjoyed watching her squirm. The unease coursing through her veins flushed the skin above her bosom, delighting me as much as the spicy scent of curiosity spiking in her blood enticed me to taste it.

Dressed more modestly than the dead women laying in the washroom had been, she stood at the foot of the bed, hands clasped in front of her, head bowed. As drably as she looked, the outlines of her feminine curves could be discerned under the thick fabric of her shapeless gray smock.

I could've donned the robe splayed at the foot of my bed, but I couldn't resist the sound of her heart fluttering in her chest like a little bird trapped in a cage. In slow, calculated strides, I made my way to her, knowing if she kept her head lowered, she wouldn't be able to avoid looking at my damp body.

Just as I predicted, she raised her head when I stood merely a foot from her. Framed by long lashes, her caramel-colored eyes tried to avert mine. "If there's nothing else you need, my lord?—"

I reached over and placed a finger over her soft, rosy lips. "Oh, but I do need…something, little bird."

Her body stiffened as I rubbed my thumb over her mouth. My eyes tracked every nuance of her movements. From the way she tried to mask the dryness in her mouth, to the way her fingers shook as she clasped her hands tighter.

The thumps of her heart echoed in my ears, the pace picking up tempo. A droplet of sweat beaded on the side of her temple and slid down her beautiful dark-skinned face. My gaze traveled that length, further down to where her thick carotid artery pulsed with ferocity. Prickling with gooseflesh, the tiny hairs on her skin stood on end. The scented warmth of her blood practically leaked off her, swathing me.

I inhaled deeply.

Ah, yes. There it was.

Fear. Pure, undiluted, primal fear. Her blood was laced with it, and it made my gums throb and my blood vessels swell with hunger-lust. She was exactly what I'd been craving—what I'd been suffering to taste for so very long.

And she knew it. This human understood her predicament, yet she still walked inside my cage.

I liked that, respected it.

Take her, the beast prowling under my skin growled. I swallowed deeply, practically tasting the sweet, silky flavor of her fear on my tongue without even taking a single drop of her blood.

If I did…

She'd be dead by now.

And my beast would be sated. I'd no longer hear its cries or feel its claws. I'd be able to think without the gnawing churns inside my gut driving me to insanity. Pressing my lips into a hard line, I kept my canines hidden, trying to keep my beast trapped for a little longer.

If I unleashed it now, she'd run, and then it would all be over much too soon.

I'd not waited this long to devour this delicacy in one breath.

No. Hunting was about the game as much as it was about sustenance and flavor. Lowering my hand from her mouth, I asked, "What's your name, little bird?"

The breath she'd been holding came out slowly and shaking. "Maya."

"Pretty name." I turned from her, flexing my neck to each side to reduce the tension building in my shoulders, hoping to keep my instincts from reducing me to a mere animal. Taking a couple of steps toward the washroom, I added, "Tell me, Maya, do you know why you're here?"

She stuttered. Perhaps thinking it was a trick question.

With my back still to her, I pressed, "Maya?"

"You called for your clothes, my lord."

I smirked to myself. Humans… always so simple-minded. "No, my little bird. Why you're really here."

Her breathing quickened. "I wasn't told you needed a host. Lord Luther fed from me yesterday. We normally require a couple of days rest before we can offer more blood. I can ask the Harvester to send you?—"

"Master Luther," I cut her off with a growl.

"I'm sorry. I don't understand."

Pivoting toward her, my gaze narrowed. Her words had struck a nerve down my back. "It's Master Luther. I'm your only lord now," I gritted.

She gulped, her bottom lip trembling as a tiny whimper escaped. "Apologies, my lord."

Flashing toward her with vampiric speed, I pried her hands open and took her wrist, flipping it over to see the evidence of my son's bite. Two small, reddish-purple punctures marred her skin. Vampire bite wounds always took long to heal.

I drifted my eyes up to hers. "My son feeds from you?"

She nodded, and the timidity of her gaze as she lowered her chin made my neck stiffen. Saints be damned. Looking her over, at her delicate frame, her dewy skin, the thick and shiny rivulets of brown curls cascading to her shoulders, and the innocence-filled eyes, I shamefully noticed what I should have had much earlier.

I'd been so consumed by the smell of her fear that I'd not cared as much about what she looked like as I had what she probably tasted like. Which was most certainly silken honey spiced with cinnamon.

Fuck. I shook the thought from my head. "You're probably still a maiden. How old are you?"

"I will be eighteen in a couple of weeks, my lord," she uttered, pulling her wrist back slowly and covering the wounds with her other hand.

I clamped down on my jaw. Bastard. Had I not taught him well? As much as these simple creatures were mere food and entertainment, humans this young had always been off limits. He knew our laws. Without them we'd be nothing but savage animals. "How long has he been feeding from you?"

"Not very long. I've only recently joined the Garden."

Cocking an eyebrow, I shook my head and offered her a mocking smile. "The Garden? Is that what they call it?"

"It's where the Chosen are sent to await the culling."

Moving toward the bed, I ran a hand over the modern clothing laying on the mattress. Sleek black breeches, a white silk buttoned shirt, and a black overcoat. Next to them, a pair of undergarments and a black leather belt. I breathed deeply. Would my entire wardrobe be this bland and unrefined? "This modern world lacks imagination." I picked up the overcoat. "Is this truly how all men dress now, or only the plebeians?"

"I'm not quite sure what you mean, my lord."

Dropping the rag wrapped around my waist, I proceeded to dress. "Never mind that. Tell me, little bird, what exactly are the Chosen being culled for?"

"When we are called upon to serve. It is an honor to be a host to your kind."

I slid my arms inside the silk shirt and began to button. Looking over my shoulder, I asked, "And what is my kind?"

The room filled with the spicy, warm scent of her anxiety. Her pulse raced, the beats of her heart divulging her secrets.

Take her…

Her adrenalin-laced blood would be sweeter than nectar, and the thought made my mind whirl. My skin tingled as if hundreds of ants crawled over me—it felt too small, too taut around my muscles. Not to mention the twisting knot tightening in my stomach had me on the verge of retching.

My fangs descended, and holding back my bloodlust was like trying to hold back a cracked dam. I closed my eyes and took deep, slow breaths.

Fuck Luther for this temptation.

Sending such a youngling into my chamber—knowing the condition I was in—had been intentional, no doubt about that. My son wanted me reduced to my basal instincts, wanted me off kilter. He was sadly mistaken if he thought I could be so easily manipulated. With unsteady will, I took control of my senses and held back the dam. "Maya?" I said, reminding her she still hadn't answered. "What is my kind?"

Clearing her throat, she said, "Divine legend. Beautiful and mystifying. Gods amongst the humans." Her words were monotone, practiced lies on her lips. She breathed deeply and I knew she was trying to calm the hammering in her chest.

Both of us were attempting to hide our true selves, and both of us were borderline failing.

Slamming the cage closed on my beast, I approached, each step deliberately steady. "I asked for the truth, Maya, not the nonsense you've been fed by my son. Try it again, but no lies this time."

Her lips thinned as she pressed them together, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession. "I don't know what you mean, my lord. I promise you, I've not meant to offend you."

"Very well, clearly, they've impregnated your mind with rubbish. Let's try a different tactic. Why do you fear me, little bird?"

Her entire body trembled. "I…don't, my lord."

I reached for her cheek and caressed her skin, tracing her delicate jawline with my fingertip. Lips quivering, she opened her mouth to say something, but I took her by the nape, and with incalculable speed, dragged her toward the washroom.

Maya nearly tripped as we came to a harsh stop at the threshold of the marble room, her hands rushing to cover her mouth as she gasped in horror. Brushing my lips against her ear, I gritted, "Lies are like venom… they poison your blood. Again, little bird, tell me, why do you fear me?"

Whimpering, she uttered, "I fear death, okay?"

Taking her by the shoulders, I pushed her back against the wall and growled, my canines fully descended, "I am eternal life."

She straightened, her gaze lifting to mine as tears trickled from the corners of her eyes. "No, my lord. Your kind is cursed to live a life of eternal dying. I do not long for your deadly kiss. I fear becoming like you." She pivoted toward the washroom. "Like her."

She meant the monster I'd decapitated.

Anger rumbled in my chest. I was not like that creature.

Impudent human.

Inching closer, I said. "You are either too brave for your own good or too stupid."

She raised her chin, tears streaming down her face. "They took my sister. I can't let them kill her—turn her into a zombie. If that makes me stupid…" She shrugged, those fierce eyes never leaving mine.

She wasn't looking for sympathy. That kind of hope would be wasted on my kind, and clearly, she knew that. Turning her neck, she offered me what I couldn't take. "Make it quick." Her words were sharp and punctuated with resignation yet filled with flagrant challenge.

My eyes grew wide as I gazed at her with utter disbelief. The will of this young human fascinated me.

I let a grin curl at the corners of my mouth. Sympathy might not have been in my repertoire of emotions, but that didn't mean I couldn't see an opportunity for a shared benefit. "Not this day, little bird. Today, you will serve a different purpose. You help me get the fuck out of this place and you might yet live to see another day."