Page 8 of Their Blood Rite

‘Of Whippet woods, in the Crescent Valley,’ he says, knowing my village. Of course, he does. It’s his job to keep us all in line. And it’s his job to give the order to kill if we don’t obey. Humans have soldiers to protect them. We have three vampires and their army of madmen to protect them from us. ‘Who is your escort today?’

‘My father, My Lord. He is running errands.’

‘Father’s name?’

‘Jameson Nectan.’

He takes my left hand and inspects my palm. His skin is cool to the touch and softer than I expected. Years of holding a sword and killing should leave its mark. Rough skin, perhaps. Scars. A lingering of the brutality and death that these hands have delivered. His thumb runs the length of my palm. The goosebumps that ripple forth and spread up my arm are a surprise. A cold shudder, I know well. But a tickle of pleasure is something new.

He watches my reaction, his thumb halting as he spots the little bumps spread. His gaze flicks up to mine, and the corner of his mouth twitches.

‘You have no scar. You have not yet performed your Blood Rite,’ he states. ‘You have not yet become their property? How old are you? You look as though you should have been claimed by now.’

‘I’m not anyone’s property.’ I try to pull my hand back, but he doesn’t release me. ‘Nor am I anyone’s to claim.’

‘I asked you a question. Age?’

‘I'm to join the coven this full moon. My birthday is tomorrow. I'll be of age.’

‘Twenty, yes? That’s your coven’s Blood Rite age for the females.’

I nod.

‘I never understood why they wait until the girls turn twenty before they get them with the Rite,' Archwin muses before swigging from a bottle of dark liquor. ‘It used to be fifteen when I was a boy.’

‘You would subject a fifteen-year-old girl to that?’ I snap, utterly disgusted and finally getting my hand back. ‘Savage.’

‘It was pretty brutal,’ he admits. ‘But there’s something sad about a twenty-year-old virgin, too.’ He steps a little closer, pinning me between him and Shaw. Those icy blue eyes flick sideto side as they look into mine. ‘So you’re a virgin, huh? Bet there are many pricks excited for you to join the coven. That’s when you become theirs, right? When all the males of the coven can dip their wick in the virgins? When you can never leave? When your magic is tied to theirs like one big melting pot of power?’

I feel my face flush with heat as he says those words loudly across this extremely full and quiet pub. It’s not just embarrassment but utter repulsion and fear because that’s precisely what will happen in two nights.

‘Excuse me,’ I mutter, lowering my gaze and attempting to squeeze through the gap between them.

Archwin sidesteps, blocking my exit.

He nods to Shaw. I turn.

‘You killed my pixie and took my fun,’ Shaw says. ‘You better be willing to replace it before you leave.’

‘Do you intend on nailing me to the table and taking me apart bit by bit with iron weapons, too?’ I ask, attempting to sound as brave as I can. ‘Or is it just helpless creatures you enjoy tormenting?’

‘Oh. I would very much enjoy tying you down, girl. Though my weapon wouldn’t be of iron, I assure you, it would be just as hard and considerably larger than a nail.’

Everyone around us erupts in a disturbing chorus of laughter, and the circle of men close in a little.

I’mthe one they now surround.I’mthe entertainment.

I sidestep, but that’s not what Shaw wants. His hand rests on my lower back, keeping me from my retreat. Not content with that, he steps closer and presses me to his front. His scent surrounds me. Smoke and cedar wood mixed with a musky sweat and a hint of lavender.

I have never been touched this way before. Not by a man. Not by anyone, and certainly not by a goddamn vampire who spent two decades murdering my kind for money and sport.

‘You have sympathy for pixies, do you?’ he grunts. ‘Forgiven them for their allegiances in the war?’ He looks me up and down.

‘I just hate bullies who torture creatures that can’t defend themselves.’

‘You calling me a bully, girl?’

‘No.’

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