Chapter 30

Before retiring to my chamber, Bal briefed me on Larick's deteriorating health. Everything inside my body tightened at the thought of losing my son. He was running out of time, and I had no antidote to offer him other than the hope that a witch could somehow drain the poison from his veins. Not just any witch, though; we needed someone as powerful as an elder or a priestess. I held little hope the Sisterhood would offer to help, especially after what Cassandra said. But I still had one card up my sleeve.

Right now, the only thing keeping Larick breathing was the nonstop blood infusions he kept receiving, but a scan of his body showed that his internal organs were starting to show signs of decay. We had a few days, if that, before he'd completely succumb to the toxins in his blood. There was only so much damage his body could take before even his Third-Gen genetics could no longer keep him alive.

Those fucking witches and their spells. They were the ones to curse us with our afflictions. They made us what we were and now they were trying to eradicate us like vermin. To make matters worse, to save my son, I would have to strike a deal with them, and likely be forced to use the Spirit Marked as a bargaining chip.

The thought made my gut twist.

Despite her nature, the young witch was innocent. I'd felt it back in New York when I touched her, but even more so tonight when I took her up into my arms. The torrent of pain that crashed into me felt like an avalanche. It was all rooted in feelings of betrayal and abandonment.

From what Priestess Cassandra had disclosed, she'd not only faked her own death to protect her daughter, but she'd shielded Avery from her powers. What I still didn't understand was why she'd gone to such lengths to hide Avery from the Sisterhood. Spirit Marked witches were worshipped amongst their kind, so it didn't make sense. But I planned to get my answers during the convening. No one was leaving the table until I got to the truth.

I was also beginning to understand why the young witch was so prickly. If what Trek pulled from her records was true, then the girl had lived a hard life bouncing around from foster home to foster home, unaware of why she was different. It was no wonder why she was completely untrained if not a little unhinged. She'd never received the proper guidance or magic training all witches received, never mind the rigorous training a Spirit Marked was supposed to undergo. Her untamed power was beyond dangerous, but I couldn't blame her for losing control on that rooftop or earlier tonight, at least not anymore. Not after I'd held her in my arms and absorbed all that soul-crushing agony.

Staring down at my burned arms and charred shirt, I realized I couldn't continue to lie to myself either. What I felt when I touched her was more than just an echo of her feelings. I'd felt something else, something I'd never felt in the thousand years I'd roamed the earth as a vampire.

A spark, like the fire in her veins had lit a furnace inside my own body—inside my own heart. But the scariest part was that I wanted more of that heat, more of her. And that was something I was not willing to entertain. Not in a fucking million years. Arabelle destroyed me. Destroyed my family. I'd sworn I would never allow another witch to get close enough to burn me like that again.

But as I stared across my bedroom and at the wall separating my room from hers, I wasn't so sure I possessed the power to control the pull. Maybe it was my weakened state in my blood-depleted body. The hunger raking through me was more than I could tolerate, and unbidden images of feeding from her kept mauling my mind. I knew how incredible her blood would taste, how fulfilling it would feel. The power that ran in her blood would super charge me.

It was a potent drug and the reason my kind was forbidden from drinking from a witch. Still, I'd broken that sacred law once.

Once a sinner, always a sinner.

Gums throbbing, I felt my canines descend, venom dripping from the tips. The hunger pangs were unbearable. Fuck. I needed to get out of this house. I needed to sink my teeth into something, and that something couldn't be her.

Pulling off the burned shirt, I threw it into the trash and felt the tug of the raw skin across my abdomen and arms. The wounds were beginning to stitch themselves back together, though the process was achingly slow due to the lack of fresh blood in my system.

Time to end the streak. I still had a few hours before daybreak—plenty of time to go hunting. Before heading out, I poured myself two fingers' worth of whiskey and downed the liquid in one gulp. Getting drunk was impossible for my kind, but sometimes in a weakened state, we could experience the slight effects of a sweet, subtle buzz, though we'd have to drink copious amounts of alcohol, and it lasted very briefly.

Fuck it. What better night than tonight?

Downing the rest of the damn bottle, I bolted out the back door into the cool night in search of my meal.

Though not native to Scotland,wild boar had once roamed the highlands before they went extinct in the country. I couldn't say vampires weren't partially responsible. Aside from humans, wild boar was our favorite animal to hunt. However, there had been recent efforts to reintroduce them in various parts of the UK, including Scotland. Most beasts now seen in the wild were a result of escapees from farms or deliberate releases.

Luckily for me, we had such a farm nearby, and although it wasn't spring and their numbers were extremely low, I was an exceptional hunter, and tonight, I had a taste for boar.

The moon was bright as ever, illuminating my footpath, but I didn't need its assistance to see. Though I was in a weakened state, my eyesight and sense of smell were still sharper than that of any human, of any predator. So, when a dense fog began to creep through the forest floor, snaking around tree trunks and providing the perfect cover for any would-be prey, I couldn't help but grin, welcoming the challenge.

Owls hooted. Crickets chirped. Tree branches clacked and dead leaves crunched under my boots. But what I was honing into was the distinct sound of an adult male's heart. Stalking through the thick brush, I finally picked up its gamey scent long before I heard the thumps of its pulse. My gums thrummed hotter as I snuck up on the unsuspecting beast. The creature had its snout buried in the soil, likely searching for those illusive, rare Scottish truffles.

Couldn't blame him for failing to sense the danger lurking in the shadows. Those truffles were a hearty meal if he could find one. My entire body primed for the attack. Muscles grew taut and my eyes flooded with hunger. Canines at full length and dripping with neurotoxins, I leapt at the animal and sunk my teeth deep into its jugular before the beast even registered it had been attacked.

I tore into its neck with fury, my body shaking with euphoria as I sapped the beast dry of its life-giving blood. I growled with gluttonous satisfaction, dropping the boar's limp body to the ground when a new scent filled the air. My nostrils flared and dread vice-gripped my spine.

Sensing her a few steps behind me, I snarled, "Miss Jaxon, do not come any closer."

The sweet scent of her skin grew stronger, so potent, I almost couldn't contain the thirst that raked my insides. Fucking hell. I shook with rage. Why the fuck was she here? Did she not realize the danger she was in being this close to a feeding vampire?

"Kane?"

Saints. Why couldn't this witch ever listen? With fresh blood breathing life into my cells, all my senses became even more razor-focused, triggering all my vampiric instincts and sending them into hyper-drive, including my instincts to hunt. To kill. Humans or witches. Fisting my hands in the boar's coarse hair, I clenched my jaw, and gritted, "Miss Jaxon, please. For your safety. I beg you. Do not come any closer."

"Why are you bent over like that? What is—" Then she gasped, probably after seeing the mess I'd made of the boar. I didn't want to turn around, didn't want her to see my transformed face, or the need burning in my eyes. If she came any closer, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from pouncing on her. I wouldn't be able to control my need to claim her, to drink from her until her body ran cold. Was it that I couldn't or wouldn't, though? The line seemed blurred.

Then the sound of her adrenaline-filled blood rushing through her veins reached my ears, muffling out reason. The scent of her fear swathed around me, filling my lungs, spreading through every single fiber of my muscles. I was reduced to my basal desires. Just like an animal. Like a fucking beast.

I spun around, fangs bared, eyes narrowed into slits, zeroing in on the thumping of her jugular. Blood likely coated my lips and dripped down my chin, making me look like an absolute monster. Chest heaving, I tightened the leash on that monster. Avery wasn't prey.

She was… more than a witch I wanted to drain of her blood. She was a woman I wanted to claim.

That fire she'd sparked in me flared inside my chest and my protective instincts began to surface, to win over my need for the kill. I didn't want to hurt her. I couldn't hurt her. Not when that tether chaining me to her tugged and tugged again. But fuck, if she…

Saints. I knew what she planned to do before she even took her next breath. Every tiny, nuanced movement her body made broadcasted it loud and saints-damned fucking clear. And if she did, we were both royally fucked. "Please, Avery," I said shakily. "Don't. You. Fucking. Run."

Too late. Her instincts won.