Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“No.” I don’t know what to tell her. Do I want Gorsky to stay the fuck away from me? Yes. But he didn’t touch me, didn’t do anything to me, not really. And what will she do to him? Kill him?
“I’ll speak to him.”
“No.” That’s the last thing I need. I have to stand up to him myself. It’s the only way to deal with a bully. “It’s fine. I’m good.”
She doesn’t seem the least bit convinced, her lips pressed into a firm line.
“Seriously.”
After a slight staring match, she relents. “All right, but you tell me right away if he’s a problem. He’ll be dealt with.”
The way she says it—it sounds final. Like final final. I don’t want Gorsky anywhere near me, but I don’t think I want him all the way dead, either.
“Can you tell me about you?” I do my best to change the subject. “I don’t know anything. You’ve been here taking care of me, and all I really know is your name.”
“What would you like to know?” she asks, her expression unguarded.
“Where are you from? How did you meet Valen? Why did he turn you? How? When?” A lifetime of questions sits waiting on my tongue.
“Your tea is getting cold.” She glances at the cup.
“Sorry.” I take it again.
“There’s not much to tell. I met Valen in London in 1744. I worked as a cook for Lord Bowlingbroke.” Her face remains unchanged, but her eyes seem to darken slightly. “A slave, I’d been born in 1717 to my mother, a 12-year-old girl who’d been stolen from her home in Nigeria. She died as I was born. Lord Bowlingbroke was my father.”
I don’t have the words. Her lived experience encompasses an entire world of injustice. Pain. Suffering. A living history of sorrow and unwilling servitude.
Setting down my teacup, I hesitantly reach out and take her hand. “I’m so sorry.”
She gives me a tight smile. “It was a long time ago.”
“Long story short, Valen had business with the lord and was staying at the London house where I worked. On his second night there, he heard me scream.” She looks straight ahead now, no emotion on her face. “You see, Lord Bowlingbroke had come to my room—not the first occasion—and I fought him. I didn’t win. He beat me to the point I lost consciousness. I was dying when Valen found me. After that, he—”
A bell rings somewhere nearby.
She snaps her gaze to mine, her eyes even starker, and squeezes my hand. “You must return to your room and ready yourself. Whitbine is here.”
11
This time I’m ready when Melody shows up. Her soft knock still makes me jump, my body tense as I try to force my mind into some sort of calm.
When I open the door to her, she gives me an apologetic look. “Are you ready? They’re waiting.” She drops her chin, her hands clasped in front of her. Her knuckles are pale, as if she’s squeezing hard.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
“I’m fine.” She meets my gaze. She’s closed off, her freeness from earlier gone and a stony resolve in its place.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She straightens and places her hands at her sides.
“You can tell me. I’m pretty sure any secrets you give me aren’t going to leave this place.” I don’t have to say it’s because I won’t be leaving here alive. I think we both know that.
She walks at my side toward the staircase. “You aren’t the only one Whitbine interrogates while he’s here,” she says quietly.
“Oh.” I look sidelong at her. “Valen lets him question you?”
“It isn’t a choice.” She shrugs. “Lord Dragonis must obey the high lord in all things, as must I.”
“No conscientious objectors, then?” I quip, something to cover up the raging of my heartbeat.
“Impossible.” She shakes her head. “The bloodline is absolute. Gregor’s word must be followed. High Lord Dragonis has ordered Whitbine to question all within the upper houses. The high lord suspects everyone and won’t stop until he discovers what happened to Theo.” She wrings her hands. “We are blood bound to do as he commands.”
“Blood bound—what does that mean exactly?” I take the steps slowly, deliberately. This is the most information I’ve gotten on the vampires since I’ve been here.
“Valen is the high lord’s direct descendant,” she says as if it explains everything.
But there’s a vast ocean of knowledge between us that only she can navigate. I’m drowning in what I don’t know.
“Direct descendant, right. So, um, what does that mean exactly?” I prod.
She pauses on the stairs to look at me. “Their blood is bound. Gregor is more than a simple sire, he is Valen’s true father. Anything Gregor wills, Valen must obey or suffer the consequences.”
I cock my head to the side. “If Gregor told Valen to cut off his own head—”
“Gregor’s compulsion is powerful on all creatures, and even more so on those of his direct line. Though, of course, using that compulsion directly against Valen would be a violative act. Enough to turn Blood against Blood. An act of war…” Her voice dies off as she glances around. “But yes, if Gregor compelled it, Valen would be bound to obey. But there is plenty that binds Valen to Gregor without the use of compulsion. Gregor’s influence is constant, just as his will.” Her voice is so low now I can barely hear it.