Chapter 3

3

Ella

The immortal circled me, his eyes blazing with blood lust. I thrust my hunting knife in front of me, trying to stop my arm from shaking.

How did you kill a bloodsucker? The legends said either a knife to the heart or by cutting their head from their spine—both unlikely options, considering the size of my blade and my ineptitude at fighting.

But that didn't mean I couldn't make him hurt.

The immortal's eyes gleamed with amusement, settling on my skinned forearms. "What do you think you'll do with that little thing? Poke me in the heart? Skewer my eye out?"

I tightened my grip on the blade. "I was thinking more along the lines of slicing your balls off."

He gave a sick, condescending chuckle and stepped forward. "I think not. But it does give me some wonderful ideas about what to do to you."

He leapt.

But instead of him taking me to the ground, the air between us exploded into a whirlwind of screeching black wings as the murder of crows fell upon him from above. He bellowed and clawed at the air as they viciously pecked at his face and eyes.

I bolted toward the hollowed oak, the only refuge in sight. The immortal would never fit through the opening, unless of course he managed to pry apart the trunk, which wasn't out of the realm of possibility. I dropped onto my bruised knees at the base of the scorched tree. Pip leapt off my shoulder and scurried into the safety of the brush as I angled my body to fit through the narrow gap.

Before I was halfway inside, strong hands gripped my ankles and wrenched me out of the tree. Icy fear streaked through me as I clawed at the dirt and leaves. The immortal flipped me over and clamped his hand around my throat, cutting off my breath. His mouth tightened, and deep red scratches marked his cheeks and neck.

"Now you've made me angry." Ice crystalized his tone as he yanked me up and held me dangling in front of him.

Dizziness crept into the corners of my vision as my lungs screamed for air, but I still had my knife. I rammed it into his chest again and again, as fast and as hard as I could, until it lodged deep between his ribs. It was a far cry from his balls, but it would still hurt like hell.

He released his grip and stumbled back, my knife protruding from his chest.

"You foolish cunt." He pulled the knife out, then flung it into the dirt, well out of my reach. "I was going to let you live, but now I think I'll drink you dry. I'll make you beg me for death before I'm done."

Although my throat ached and stars clouded my vision, I grabbed a broken branch from the ground and held it out like a spear. "I'm afraid I'm not the begging type."

I knew that I had no chance of ramming it through his chest like a stake, but something about the way it felt in my hands gave me a sense of power—the feeling that somehow, I was connected to the forest. That the woods would give me strength.

The bloodsucker bared his fangs.

Then the ground beneath me shook with the sound of crashing branches and thundering hooves. I spun as a cloaked rider on a midnight stallion erupted into the clearing and charged straight for me.

I dove for the ground, the force of the impact whooshing what little air I had from my lungs. The stallion vaulted over me and landed squarely in front of the bloodsucker. The rider pulled back on the reins, and the stallion's front legs pawed the air before it came to a stop. He turned the horse and guided it in circles around the immortal, its hooves stomping the dirt in warning.

Who was he?

The male wore a crisp black uniform and silver-trimmed cape. The only people in the Bloodvale who could afford such fine clothes or a warhorse like that were the lords who lived in the castle.

That meant I had two bloodsuckers to evade, one of them a high lord.

Wonderful.

"What are you doing in these woods?" The rider's deep voice was laced with violence, his attention focused entirely on my attacker.

Had he even seen me?

I began slowly creeping backward toward the trees.

"I was taking the blood tithe, as is my right, Your Hi?—"

"You have no rights," the lord growled. "Not anymore. I've seen your work. This was no tithe. You've lost control. You've become a butcher. An animal."

The bloodsucker backed up a step and glanced at me, his face contorted in rage. "What does it matter if I have a little fun with my food? We're the predators, and they're the prey. It's my right, by nature."

"You're mistaken," the dark rider said as he loomed over my assailant. "I'm the predator, and you ' re the prey. It's time you learned what fear really is." He pulled on the reins, and his stallion reared. " Now run ."

For a second, my assailant hesitated, and then, in a blur of movement, the immortal vanished into the trees as the horse's hooves crashed back down onto the ground.

The rider watched him go, but instead of pursuing, he turned his steel gaze on me. An icy shiver snaked down my spine, and my heart sputtered. Beneath the hood of his dark cloak, raven-black hair framed a hard, chiseled face. It was his brooding eyes, however, that stole my breath and sent panic fluttering in my chest. I found myself paralyzed, unable to rise or even move my legs. Was this how the lords hunted? Incapacitating their prey with terror?

I dropped to my hands and knees and bowed my head, partly out of respect and partly just to break away from those eyes. "Thank you for saving me from that bloodsu—" My throat clenched as I realized what I was saying. "From that immortal, my lord."

He was going to peel the skin from my bones.

The lord scoffed with contempt and pulled off his hood. "Get up."

I scrambled to my feet and adjusted the cowl of my coat.

The moonlight kissed his flawless skin, accentuating his sharp jaw and full lips. His ebony shirt and trousers clung to a powerful physique that could only have been honed through battle. His gaze felt as if he were unraveling me, layer by layer. "Who are you?"

Fear surged through me. I didn't want to give him my real name, but he'd probably sense if I were lying. "Ella DuPonte," I answered, substituting my stepmother's maiden name instead of my own—Marquette.

"Ella." My name fell from his lips like a sin, and for some unfathomable reason, his deep voice stirred something equally dangerous low in my belly. I'd never heard my name spoken in such a sinister and seductive timbre.

The rhythmic plod of hooves echoed behind us, and a second rider broke into the clearing, stealing my attention from the predator in front of me. He was an immortal as well, with strong shoulders and blond hair. "Have you gone mad?" the other rider shouted, and then his eyes fell to me. "Oh."

The raven-haired lord angled his head and cast a withering expression at the rider before turning back to me. "What are you doing in the woods at night? Alone?"

His tone was cold with an undercurrent of anger, and I felt his judging eyes skate down my body before landing on a loosened strand of my silver hair.

I quickly tucked it behind my ear, a storm of conflicting emotions raging inside—fear, hatred, intrigue. I loathed that he made me feel anything at all.

"I was looking for my missing sister."

"If she's as foolish as you are, then she's already dead."

His words sliced through me, and my throat tightened—both out of fear that it was true, but also with deep resentment. The immortals were callous, soulless monsters who thought of us as no more than property, only good for bedding and feeding.

I met his stony expression with one equally as hard. "Why are two lords wasting their time with a foolish human like me?"

"Why indeed?" the blond rider asked curiously, scrutinizing me with something between amusement and boredom on his sharp aristocratic features. He also wore a midnight cloak, but his boots and clothes were not as finely tailored as those of the lord before me.

The muscles around the dark rider's eyes tightened, and the corners of his lips curled in a feral snarl, revealing the tips of two ivory fangs. He guided his steed closer to where I stood and circled me slowly.

The fire inside my chest quickly transformed to fear, but I held my ground and glared up at him.

"These woods are not a pleasure garden," he said disdainfully. "They're not safe, nor are the creatures that dwell in them. So, if I were you, little mouse, I'd run."

The lord shifted his weight, and with a subtle tug on the reins, the black stallion turned and launched itself into the trees in the direction that my assailant had fled. His cloak billowed out behind him, and in the light of the rising moon, I could make out the royal insignia concealed on the underside of the thick fabric.

Was he part of the royal family or just one of their bannermen?

The second rider gave me a final smirk, then followed after the high lord, leaving me alone in the deeply silent woods.

Pip climbed up the back of my leg and onto my shoulder, and I let out a long sigh of relief. He was okay.

That made one of us.

I glanced down at my hands, which were stained black with blood in the faint light. I had attacked one of the immortals.

The shock of it made my hands tremble. Justified or not, harming an immortal was an executable offence. Would they find the knife wounds I'd given the bastard and come for me? They knew my first name and had seen my silver hair. No one else in the village had hair like it. The high lord might hang me from the battlements for all to see, an example to our kind: never touch an immortal.

A shudder shook me, and I glanced up at the moon shining brightly against the sky. For a moment, I'd thought the rider was my savior.

I'd never been so wrong.