5. CANNIBALISM?

Chapter five

CANNIBALISM?

I entered to find Lyvias perched at his vanity, prodding and primping his cheeks as if he were the most devastatingly beautiful thing in the world. Entranced by his own reflection, he gave no notice of my arrival. I lingered in the doorway, my stomach in knots. To think this man had the world at his feet—surrounded by riches and adoration—while he concealed sinister desires behind closed doors. His birthright had ensured he reaped reward after reward without consequences. And for what? Being born royal and handsome? I guess it's true what they say: beauty is power. My body jittered in anticipation at the thought of marring that beautiful face and reminding him that nobody was untouchable. I shuffled a step forward, and his eyes crashed into mine through the mirror, a scowl plastered on his face.

"You're late," he snarled. His sights carried down my body, transfixed on the towel hung around my hips. "And why in hell's name are you not clothed?"

"My apologies, sir. I wanted to make sure I was presentable for you and lost track of time in the washrooms. I felt it…inappropriate to be unclean in your presence."

Take the bait, asshole.

"Mmm, I see. I did warn you not to keep me waiting, did I not?"

"Yes, sir. I am truly sorry for my tardiness."

"Enough." He sauntered over, conceited energy leaching off him like a plague. Pushing me to sit on the bed, he started undoing his belt. "You will attend to my needs before tonight's events. Immediately."

"What are you—"

"Stop talking. It turns me off."

"I already told you I don't offer such services."

"Playing hard to get then, are we?" He pushed in closer, his hardened dick nearly touching my face.

I averted my eyes, heartbeat pounding in my ears. I forgot how to speak, how to breathe. How many others had he taken without consent? My chest tightened. The way he forced himself on a man of equal stature mixed with his lustful grin told me it had been too many. Sick fuck.

He pinched my jaw between his forefinger and thumb. "Cat got your tongue?"

I tore his hand away but remained silent. The way he held himself—his shoulders back, staring down his nose at me—burrowed under my skin like a parasite. A slinky, slimy thing.

"You truly think you can deny your future king what is rightfully his?" He knotted his fingers in my hair, jerking my head back. "Answer me!"

"Rightfully yours?" I snapped. "I hate to knock you off your high horse, Lord Lyvias, but simply because you want something does not mean it is yours to take."

"You would defy a direct order?"

"If it means sucking your dick? Then yes, I will defy your order." I stood, stepping into his space, our sight lines even with one another. "You see, I don't bottom. At least not for men."

A hard slap landed against my cheek, my skin burning in its wake.

"You will do as you are ordered, peasant!"

Wind rushed past my ears as Lyvias pinned me to the wall and ripped my towel free in two seconds flat. A murderous chuckle slipped up my throat. Well, I didn't have Killing a Vampire Lord Butt-Ass-Naked on my bingo card; but hey, here we were. Fine by me, really. Naked or clothed, I'd deliver on my promise to put this rabid dog down for every innocent who'd been forced to submit to his prickish whims.

I fought against his hold, but he managed to snake a hand down my stomach. My limp cock in his hand, he began to pump. Despite the insatiable desire to rip his throat out, my body reacted to his touch.

"Is this what you want?" he whispered into my ear, sending goosebumps across my skin. "To be broken before your king?"

I gripped his shoulders, shoving him backwards. "Fuck off!"

Shock wrinkled his brow, replaced in a split second by unabashed anger. He descended upon me: a wall of muscle and brutality. To my unfortunate surprise, he took me to the ground with ease and pinned my hands above my head, pressing my face to the floor.

"You will take it," he growled, "and you will like it!"

I bucked, and my skull cracked against his chin, inducing a snarl from his lips. I hopped to my feet to find him wiping away a trickle of blood from his split lip. He started back towards me, something adjacent to pure evil surging in his crimson stare.

"As I said, I like a challenge. I. Will. Break. You!"

I raised my fists, landing a solid blow to his jaw on approach, followed by another. He spit the blood now pouring from his mouth, and I stole a glance about the room. There, as if Fate had placed it just for me, a blade shone in the moonlight. This was it: my chance. I began to circle, Lyvias mirroring my steps. His eyes darkened to near-black depths, and I knew one of us wasn't leaving this room alive. It was me or him. I positioned myself in front of the side table, the blade nipping my finger as I slid it into my palm.

"You forget, Lyvias," I said, "I am not your usual target. Or have you gotten so used to preying on children you don't know how to handle your own in a fight?"

"Why you little—"

Before he could reconsider his charge, I whipped the dagger out, sinking its tip into his gut. The Lord's shocked breath swept across my cheek, and his eyes widened at the fresh wound. That's right, asshole. You lose. A shudder ran up my spine at the tear of muscle and gush of blood. Making wicked men pay for their atrocities never got old: a hobby Kim and I shared.

A laugh built in Lyvias's chest until it rose to maniacal levels.

"You fool! You think this will kill me?" He grasped the hilt, ripped the blade out without so much as a grimace, and tossed it aside. "I am a gods-damned warrior! I have fought men twice your size and bent them to my will! And to think, I was prepared to go easy on you."

Oh, shit. Again he charged, this time nailing me to the bedpost. The wood splintered on impact, a shard burying itself in my spine and sending shock waves down my limbs. Yeah, that definitely cracked a rib. His fangs sank deep into my throat. I pushed and shoved as he began draining me faster than I could fight him off, but to no avail. My head spun; hands shook. At the rate of his frantic mouthfuls, I'd be unconscious before I could land another blow. But to my benefit, his thirst was his undoing. He reared back with a satisfied grin to behold his prey, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth.

"You taste divine," he panted.

His lips crashed into mine, his tongue sliding into my mouth frantically. Dumb fucking move. I bit down hard, nearly severing his tongue, and iron danced on my taste buds. This, it seemed, was enough to throw him off kilter, and I took him to the floor, burying my knee in his chest. Hands secured around his throat, I squeezed. And squeezed. His face flushed a most intoxicating shade of purple, and red flooded my vision as my bloodlust took root. My body tingled at the blatant fear refracted in his stare. Finally . He flailed under me—the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end—but I allowed him no leniency.

There it was: the life fade I'd been so hungry for. Almost done. One hand still cemented on his throat, I reached for the blade. My fingertips brushed the smooth hilt. Just a little farther. With another shift, I snatched the dagger, pressing it to his throat. A stab to the gut wasn't enough to take him out, but no being—supernatural or otherwise—could survive without blood. I'd drain him the same way he'd drained his helpless victims.

"This is for Lana," I snarled through clenched teeth. "For every person whose innocence you have stolen, you disease !"

Spit foamed on the sides of his lips, and he shoved at my throat. The pressure in my skull built as he pushed my head back farther—the tear of muscle echoing in my ears—but I'd be damned if I let him win. I slashed his wrist, severing tendons. His hand hung limp, and his arms recoiled, leaving him wide open. So like the gentleman I am, I offered him a final smile to carry with him to the afterlife.

And with a firm slash, I slit his throat wide open.

Blood gushed, pooling around us as he choked and pawed at his throat with the hand I'd so graciously allowed him to keep. Such a delicious sight. I pinned him harder to the floor and savored every second. He'd lost. He knew it. I knew it. That's right. Die, fucker.

He went motionless under me.

My lungs heaved. I'd done it: fulfilled my promise to Death and cut down the threat Kim faced. No longer would his shadow haunt hers or any other's doorstep. I cracked my sore neck and scrambled off Lyvias's dead frame, making my way to the nearest window to spit until the remnants of his blood no longer haunted my senses. Then reality set in.

How the hell was I going to hide a six-foot-something vampire warrior without attracting attention? Anyone awaiting his arrival for the night's event would assume him fashionably late. At least I hoped, anyway. Sure, he'd never show up in the end, but one step at a time.

The door crashed open a second later. Great. Caught red-handed. I snatched a blanket from the bed to cover myself and backed into the corner. Suri strolled in, her expression tense as she surveyed the scene. Her sights carried from the dead Lord to me, and back again. How long we stood there in thick silence, I'm not sure. But finally, Suri's laughter broke through. It started slow, transforming into a raspy giggle.

"You actually pulled it off!" She wiped away a tear.

"Yeah, but the douche put up a good fight."

I rubbed my back, attempting to catch an edge and free the splinter buried in my rib cage. No luck. Suri pursed her lips, sidestepped the crimson pool at our feet, and motioned for me to spin about.

"Oof, that's deep."

I winced at her touch. "Eh, I've had worse."

"Take a deep breath."

Despite my best attempts, a guttural moan escaped me as the shard broke free, heat radiating through my legs.

"That's going to need stitches." Suri dug in her pockets and removed a small box with needles and suture thread.

"What, you just walk around ready to sew up anyone who needs it?" I asked.

"Never know when you'll need them. Better safe than sorry, right?"

After sterilizing the needle in candle flame, she went to work. In and out. The sensation of thread slithering through fatty tissue made my skin crawl, and I gritted my teeth through sharp bite after bite. A necessary discomfort, but one I'd rather avoid in the future.

"There, all done," Suri said.

"Thank you." I rolled my shoulders. "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"Know when to show up—" I paused. "Clairvoyant, right."

"Figured you'd need help disposing of the prick." She stood over the Lord's body, kicked his lifeless thigh, and tapped her chin. "Well, we can't very well bring him out the front doors."

"We could chuck him out the window? Make it look like an accident?"

She shook her head. "Too risky. Plenty of people saw you heading here to attend to him. You'd be in shackles before we could blink. Not to mention the gaping hole where his throat used to be."

Right. And being locked in the dungeon didn't fare well for my plans to look out for Kim. "We could sneak him out through the servant's quarters?"

"With all the elites attending tonight's ball? I think not. We deal with him later, when the majority of the attendees are tucked away in their rooms. For now, we have to figure out how not to arouse suspicion." She turned to me, placing her hands on her hips. "Lyvias is expected in the ballroom in an hour. Did you have a plan on how to explain his absence? Or did that detail simply slip your mind when you decided to kill him tonight of all nights?"

"Yeah…I hadn't really gotten that far."

"Of course not. Cooper, if he doesn't show, the guards will come snooping. You do know that, right?" Her breaths grew ragged. "I swear, if this gets out, and it lands me in the dungeon for the rest of my life, I'll have your head! I've worked too damn hard flying under the radar in order to free these girls."

I grasped her shoulders. "That's not going to happen."

There was one way to make this all disappear: the body, the murder, the missing vampire Lord. I'd considered it, though I wasn't sure I had the strength to pull it off. While an ugly, unsettling option, I had to try. I bit the meat of my cheek. "I have an idea, but I can't guarantee it'll work."

Suri crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm a shapeshifter."

"Right…and?"

"And a pureblood," Death's voice boomed, making us both jump. He loomed in the shadowed corner, flames swaying in his irises.

Suri's body went ridged as her gaze fell to Lyvias. "Your Highness. I—I can explain. We didn't mean—"

"Silence," Cadagon interjected, raising a dismissive hand. "I could care less what or who caused the Lord's death. He was a plague upon this kingdom. What I do care about is making sure Lyvias is dressed to perfection for tonight's event. I ensured a tailored suit be delivered earlier today; it's hanging there in the closet."

She cleared her throat. "With all due respect, Highness, he's kind of…"

"Dead?" Cadagon finished. "Precisely. But that doesn't mean he will not be in attendance tonight. Correct, Cooper?"

So I truly didn't have an option. Perfect. "Right, if I can pull it off."

"I don't understand," Suri said.

"A pureblood has the ability to wear another's face," Cadagon explained. "It's a particularly ruthless ritual, but if performed correctly—"

"Cooper will be Lyvias."

"For all intents and purposes, yes," Death responded.

"What kind of ritual?"

"I have to eat his heart," I whispered, snatching the dagger off the floor.

Suri clapped a hand over her mouth. "You what ?"

"It's the only way," Death confirmed, and looked to me. "And you know the consequences, boy?"

I nodded. Taking another's identity meant I would always carry a part of them with me. What piece exactly was a roll of the dice, but I'd cross that bridge when I came to it. Before I lost my nerve, I heaved a breath and raised the dagger above my head, bringing it down hard. The blade cracked through ribs, bouncing back against the muscles below. I shoved in farther, all the while my heart thundered. Here I thought committing a murder in the buff hadn't been on the agenda for the day. But cannibalism? That for sure hadn't been part of the plan. My hands soaked in cooling blood, I pried the blade upward, breaking bone free. Time passed slowly; every second a lifetime as I severed arteries and veins until, finally, I could pull the heart free. The mass rested heavy like a stone in my clutch, and I swallowed hard.

"Good thing I had a light lunch, huh?" I forced a laugh.

Suri gagged and averted her eyes. But Death? He didn't blink as his sights burned into me.

The first bite into the firm, stringy organ was the worst, like my body knew. This? This was not for consumption. I closed my eyes and cleared my mind. A steak. It was just a bloody, raw steak. From there, I let my instincts take over. I forced my teeth through, tearing a meaty chunk free.

"Oh, I'm going to be sick." Suri ran to the window to spew her guts.

Which didn't exactly help my gag reflex. Then Kimber's sweet face tickled my mind. If I assumed Lyvias's identity, I'd be able to be by her side in the open. Watch out for her in ways I hadn't been able to so far. That was all the motivation I needed to finish the last course, rubbery bite.

"There," I forced out. "That wasn't so bad—"

My body seized all at once. Acid burned in my veins. I lifted my hand to behold skin rippling over breaking finger bones, and I collapsed, my head cracking hard against the floor. An anguished scream rose up, but Death sealed my lips before it could free itself. What fresh hell was this? A broken wrist or ankle when shifting was one thing, but every bone in your body shattering at once? I'd only ever wish such agony on my worst enemies. I sucked in breaths through my nose, but any semblance of calm denied me as I thrashed, my torso caving in on itself one rib at a time. Seconds turned to minutes with no relief in sight. How much longer ? But I knew better. Shifting into some one required incredible restructuring—clear down to the marrow—in order to rebuild the body in a new image it wasn't accustomed to. Lyvias's teeth shoved their way into place as my own fell out into my palm, one by one, before clinking to the ground. The edges of my vision brushed black, and suddenly, dying didn't sound like the worst thing. Peace. Nothingness. Oblivion.

Darkness devoured me.

I awoke sometime later to Suri's worried stare and her hand on my cheek. "Gods, are you okay?"

I sat up, my hands drenched in dried blood. "Did it work?"

"See for yourself," Cadagon said.

I crawled towards the mirror, my stomach souring. Sure as shit, the eyes peering back at me were not my own but rather crimson and ravenous. I pulled my cheek aside to reveal long, pointed canines, and inky vines twisted up my throat. It'd worked. I'd done it.

"Incredible," Suri whispered from behind.

"Undoubtedly." Death turned to her. "You are excused, dear one. But do heed my call. I will require your assistance with a matter soon."

Cadagon turned, pressing his fingertips together. Suri met my gaze in the mirror briefly—her eyebrow raised in question—and mouthed, "Dear one?" Such an odd kindness on the king's tongue. Regardless, she bowed and made her exit.

Death set a black-stained hand on my shoulder. "I will meet you in the royal graveyard at precisely three o'clock this morning. Ensure you bring the corpse. Do not be late."

With a final glance, he evaporated into thin air. I lingered on the ground, transfixed on the stranger reflected in the looking glass. I'd become a wraith, a silhouette of my former self, and yet I was more determined than ever. This newfound form—steeped in secrets and sinister energy—would see my goals achieved. Monsters would die by these hands. Sins would be purged. I'd become a blade, a weapon to be wielded by her alone. How fitting that with the very hands that'd sowed chaos and debauchery in the kingdom, I would undo it. Deliver vengeance. But first, I had to infiltrate Lyvias's life, discover what he'd been up to behind the scenes. My fleshy mask grinned back at me in the mirror. Yes. I would eradicate anyone who sought to dismantle Anathema's return to balance. And in doing so?

Lady Death would reign in all her vicious glory.