Page 7 of Their Blood Rite

A fucking vampire.

Humanity offered him and his men an endless supply of willing volunteers to feed from and endless wealth to enjoy if and only if he swore to lead their armies.

So he led them. And he won.

He stands. The stool beneath him slowly grinds against the floor, and I watch as he rises. Higher and higher until my neck is craned fully back as he peers down at me.

‘You killed my pixie,girl,’ he says. His words vibrate through me. Right down to my very core. His lip curls, showing the slightest tip of a razor-sharp fang. ‘I should have you spread upon my table instead.’

I swallow hard, looking up at his intense gaze, utterly shrouded in his frame.

Of all people… why him? Why?!

I step back, only to feel the solid frame of another. With a gasp, I turn to see the male whose dagger I stole standing behind me, peering down with interest. His lips part.

He has fangs too.

‘Dorian Tierney,’ I whisper, looking at the tattoos snaking up his neck from beneath his loose shirt. He has to be.

‘You whisper my name nicely,’ Dorian says quietly, still looking down at me. ‘I bet you would sound even better screaming it.’

My eyes widen even further, imagining that scenario. Me, screaming for mercy. Pleading with him.

There are only three vampires.

When the white-haired male steps forward, his childlike smile pulling his lips, I see his fangs too. A very intentional act by all three, I would guess.

‘Archwin Orion,’ I gasp.

Great. Not just one witch-killing lunatic, but all three.

‘You make a habit of sticking your nose into other people’s fun and shitting all over it?’ Shaw asks, pulling my focus back to him as his two men block any hope of a retreat.

He leans in and sniffs. His eye twitches.

His words stoke the dwindling fire of courage that had almost diminished.

That word.Fun.

It’s fuel, turning my embers of bravery into an inferno.

‘Torturing creatures smaller than you is fun?’ I snipe, forcing as much derision into the question as possible.

‘Everything is smaller than me,girl.’ He steps closer, further accentuating the height difference. I keep my feet planted, craning my neck higher as he descends. His eyes shamelessly leer down my cleavage, which I know is still beaded with the rain. His lip twitches. ‘Earth witch, yes?’

‘Yes.’

He holds my chin, ensuring I don’t look away. Ensuring he can see every bit of emotion I try to hide.

‘It is“Yes, My Lord”when you address me and my men. Understood?’

I swallow the insults I would simply love to throw at him and try not to choke on the words I say next.

‘Yes,My Lord. I am of the Earth Coven.’

‘Your coven leader?’

‘Girdon LeSaint,’ I reply. ‘Of-’

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