Page 60 of Siege of Blood and Betrayal

The warning is meant for the vampires of his seethe, but the threat is implicit. It’s also obvious that it isn’t coming from a familial bond after having grown up with her and considering her part of his life.

Zane Vasari is staking his claim.

That complicates things—because she’s mine, too.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Zane

Blood drips from my fingertips, warm and slick. My chest heaves, each breath a battle won against the terror that struck me the moment I saw Aksel about to attack Scottie. We stand amidst the opulent, open area of the clan fallback compound—now slick as a slaughterhouse floor.

That is the aftermath of my wrath…

Of the vampiric beast I am within…

And now she’s seen it.

Crimson stains my hands, my clothes. It’s not just blood. Fleshy bits of sinew cling to me like grotesque confetti. The sweet syrup of our essence lingers on my tongue.

Violence comes easily to me—too easily.

Before us, the remnants of a man who was part of my family lay lifeless, his surprised, wide-eyed stare drifting off to nothingness.

I survey the carnage and wonder what Scotland sees.

She’s staring at me, her gaze taking in the macabre sight of me. The silence hanging between us is deafening, broken only bythe softdrip-drip-dripof blood from my fingers to the floor. I turn slowly, allowing her to take in the full scope of devastation.

This is my doing. My legacy written in visceral script.

I’m sorry.I speak into her mind, sharing something with her that until now, I never thought I could. My words sound hollow amidst the stillness of post-carnage.I tried to keep my darkness at bay for you. I denied my feelings for you, terrified that one day you would see my true nature unleashed or fall prey to it.

Scottie’s blue eyes lock onto mine. She stands resilient, her expression calm and grounded. “Do you think I didn’t know you? That I couldn’t see you to the depth of your tortured soul?”

I search her face for signs of revulsion. I exploded a man right in front of her and the plasma shrapnel of that violence is splattered all over her. I wait for the inevitable recoil, but there’s nothing. Only the steady strength that has always defined her… and disappointment.

I’m such a fucking idiot.

Either my devastation or my gruesome state draws her concern. “Are you hurt?”

“Only by my own actions.” I didn’t want this for her—for us. She deserved so much more.

Her lips part, as if to speak, but no words come. Instead, she reaches up to my collar. When she pulls her hand back, she’s holding a severed ear. “Who did this belong to?”

“Benoit.” I watch her examine the severed ear, still waiting for the revulsion to hit. The man betrayed us. He deserved his fate, yet fear and guilt gnaw at me.

Her face is calm, resolute even, as she drops the ear and wipes her hand on her jeans. There’s no disgust in her expression, no condemnation. She meets my gaze, unflinching. “And is this the biggest piece of him left?”

“Pretty much. Yes.”

“Good. I hope he died a horrible death.”

In her eyes, there’s no horror, no fear—just an understanding that runs deeper than any river of blood we stand in. She sees through it all. To who I am. To who I have always been.

Around us, the clan watches, the weight of their gazes reminding me that this is neither the time nor the place for their king to be waxing philosophical.

Let them see the beast their king can become, cloaked in shadow and power.

I shake my hands toward the ground and blood and chunks of vampire drop to the plasma puddle at my feet. “All right. We’ve all had enough fun for one afternoon. I’m heading back to the safe house. Someone clean this up.”

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