Page 50 of Bloody Kingdom

Harshly, Silas spits the contents onto the cemetery floor.

Oh my god, he ripped the guy’s throat out… with his teeth.

I stand frozen in shock as I watch Silas roughly release the man. With a deafening thud, he falls to the ground and the gaping wound on his neck creates a puddle of blood around his body.

Silas stares down at him, a vicious smile on his face as he waits for him to bleed out. His shoulders heave as he breathes harshly, the fabric of his rumpled button-down has become untucked from his slacks. His hair that is usually perfect is unruly and wild looking. I’ve never seen him look so disheveled. So unkempt.

Black eyes that look like a piece of onyx in this light clash into mine when he finally lifts his head toward me. Blood covers his mouth, dripping down his chin. Fangs peek out from his parted lips. The lines of his handsome face are harsh, the skin around his eyes seems darker than usual. Dropping my eyes, I find blood dripping from his fingertips, no doubt from when he took off the man’s head.With his bare hands.

The monster that headlines in so many horror films and stories stands before me. The monster that occupies nightmares is real. The monster that, despite what I just witnessed, I’m not terrified of. I should be afraid. I should be screaming for help, but I don’t.

Instead, all I can do is whisper, “I knew it.”

The words just barely leave my lips before I’m doubling over, and the vomit I’ve been fighting finally makes its ghastly escape.

“Iknew it.”

She doesn’t scream or run from me when she finally lays eyes on who I truly am.WhatI truly am. All she does is stare at me with a look of uncertainty on her face as she whispers those words.

Quincey Page has yet again found a way to completely astonish me. Even Della—levelheaded, strong-willed Della—ran when she first learned of what I am, but not Quincey.

She stands steadfast before me, using the back of her hand to wipe the vomit from her chin as her calculating eyes watch me. While the relief she’s standing before mebreathingis like a balm to the fiery rage that burns in my veins, I don’t want to get too close and spook her.

I don’t want to scare her away, I want to go to her and gather her battered body in my arms. She’s wounded, but she’s alive and right now that’s all that matters to me. I don’t care that she just stood witness to my monstrous side, I would have torn apart dozens right in front of her if it meant protecting her. The knowledge that those bastards hurt her only increased my fury and there was no stopping the carnage.

The sweet scent of her blood is what led me to her. Even through all the other overpowering scents in the city, I could pick out the scent of her blood with ease. Like an invisible thread, I followed it to the cemetery.

If I hadn’t been staying in the Quarter like I have been, I never would have made it to her. Even as it is, I just barely found her in time before she was brutally raped. Attacked because someone has an unknown vendetta against me. Attacked because she was somewhere she was never meant to be. Attacked because I was naïve enough to think they wouldn’t be watching my employees.

Her cotton shirt hangs in shreds off one shoulder. The pieces that once were her bra are tangled in the mess of fabric. Blood dribbles down her collarbone and between her visible breasts. There are other scrapes and abrasions, but those cuts are the ones that will need attention.

I can’t stop the snarl that builds in my chest when my eyes lock on the open button of her shorts. I hadn’t noticed that before.Was I too late?

Moving at a speed that’s hard for human eyes to track, I move to stand before her, not caring that I’m intruding on her space. “Did they touch you?” My voice is harsher than I intend. The fury I feel is hard to conceal.

She staggers away from me; her shaking hand raises to silently stop me from coming closer. “W-wait,” she stammers. “Just wait.Please. Stay back. I-I’m not…ready.”

Even if I felt inclined to listen to her request, I couldn’t stay away.

Her eyes drift to the bodies that lie in bloody heaps around us. She worked in a trauma room for years, she’s used to carnage, but she’s not used to seeinghowit happens. No one has ever torn another apart in front of her. She’s a healer while I’m a killer.

Gently, I clasp the side of her face in my palm. She flinches at my touch at first, her whole body going rigid. It hurts more than I’d like to admit that my touch is unwelcome, even if it’s an expected reaction.

Just as I’m about to pull my hand from her, she surprises me by closing her eyes tight and leaning into my touch. She releases a long, shuddering breath before the tears slowly slide down her face. Her head shakes slowly before she whispers, “No, they didn’t touch me. Not in that way.”

The men got off easy considering, but had I arrived one minute later and found them assaulting Quincey, their deaths would have been drawn out for weeks. Each day I would have taken a hot knife and sliced off a piece of their flesh until their bones were visible. What happened to them tonight was an act of mercy.

She jumps and pulls back from me when my free hand wipes away the tears on her cheeks. The blood that coats my hands transfers onto her skin and I silently curse. “It’s okay, love. I won’t hurt you,” I vow softly. “Never you, Quincey.”

Big powder blue eyes meet mine and scan my face like they’re looking at me for the first time. In a way, they are. She’s finally seeing through the barrier she’s slowly been breaking down since I brought her home.

She’s seeing all of me for the first time and despite the ugliness and depravity of what I am, she never looks away.

“Are you scared?”

“Not as much as I should be,” Quincey answers softly, her voice hoarse. “You’ve never scared me as much as you should. I don’t know if that makes me crazy or—”

“Fearless,” I answer for her. “It makes you wonderfully and recklessly fearless. If you were wise, you would be running far, far away from me.”

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