Page 18 of A Sacrifice in the Smoke

I bite my fist to keep from crying out. “I need you.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at the hotel.” I turn away from the sight of Deacon’s torn throat. Feeders die all the time, of course, so it’s not the hotel staff I’m worried about—it’s my swiftly unraveling control. “Please, Noah.”

A door slams shut on his end. “I’m on my way.”

Shame fills me with shadows and storms as I slip out of the room. The lobby is empty, so there’s no one to see me step onto the elevator. As I ride toward the sky, the monster nestles within me, content and drowsy.

In my suite, I wash the rest of the blood off in the bathroom sink. The water turns pink and circles the drain. I’m about to take my shirt off when there’s a knock at the door.That can’t be Noah already, I think with a frown. After drying my face and hands, I flip the lock over and open the door.

When I see who’s standing in the hallway, the breath catches in my throat. My hand slips from the door handle. “Aunt Cindy?”

“You were expecting Edward, I suppose.” Disdain threads through her voice like little blue veins. The tall, willowy vampire steps around me, entering my room without invitation. “That vampire has got less sense about him than George the Third.”

“What are you doing here?” I’m still staring at her. Cindy is formally known as the Vampire King’s Head of Public Relations, and she looks the part, too. Her hair is straightened and her pantsuit flawless.

“You know, I’ve always liked you.” Cindy stops in the center of the room, her heels sinking into the carpet, and turns around to offer a cold smile. “Those nights at the club, the dalliances, a complete disregard for the rules. You remind me of when I was young and stupid.”

“You remember that far back?” I say without thinking—the vodka and the overindulgence in Deacon’s blood is probably to blame.

Cindy moves in a blur. Before I can register the movement, her palm cracks against my cheek. Pain licks up the side of my face, and I suck in a breath, cradling my cheek. “Youwillshow me respect, you filthy Lavender,” she seethes, smoothing her blouse.

I bark out a cruel laugh, my fangs fully exposed now. The door is still wide open behind us, but neither of us seem to care. “Respect isn’t given freely—it’s earned. And you’re nowhere near earning mine.”

“You ungrateful little wench,” she snarls. Once again, she takes me by surprise, and her nails tear across my throat in an instant. Blood pours out, and I gasp for breath, falling to my knees.

Cindy walks past me and slams the door shut as I attempt to staunch the bleeding with my hands. It spills through my fingers, but slows only moments later, thanks to Deacon.

“Well, would you look at that. Apparently you have enough vampire blood in you to heal. At least you’re not completely pathetic.” Cindy stands over me, watching me heal with a clinical expression.

I strive to breathe evenly. As the marks finish closing, I get to my feet. “Would you like to know the real reason why the Vampire King hates Lavenders? Why you all do?” I rasp.

She arches a finely-plucked brow at me. “All right, I’ll play along. Why?”

“Because we have the urgency of a human and the perks of a vampire.” I shoot upright, seize the handle of the pistol that’s still in my waistband holster, and yank it out.

She claps slowly, but despite the mockery in it, there’s real fear in her eyes—as a general rule, most vampires do dread death. For our kind, it will never arrive by natural means. “That’s a nice toy, dear,” she croons.

I grit my teeth, holding the weapon steady. Noah would be proud. “Trust me, it’s no toy. You’re here to kill me, aren’t you? Who sent you?”

Cindy examines her nails for a moment. Then, with an animalistic snarl, she launches at me. The door flies open in the same moment I fire a shot.

Bodies swarm the hall and fill the doorway, spilling into the room quicker than I can react. The pistol is knocked out of my hand and flies across the floor. Three figures wearing black body armor tackle me to the ground.

“What the hell is this?” I snap at Cindy, who’s hissing in pain at the gunshot wound in her shoulder. Until she’s able to dig the bullet out, she won’t heal. A flicker of pride alights within me.

She bares her fangs in an eerie semblance of a smile. “Daddy isn’t protecting you anymore, little girl. It’ll be entertaining to see how long you survive now.”

“What the hell are youtalkingabout?” I fight to get free of the males on top of me. During the struggle, my eyes land on one of their wrists, and I suck in a breath. Different shades of blue and green shimmer across his skin in a scale-like design—he’s a shapeshifter. I catch his amber gaze through a slit in the helmet and whisper, “Who are you?”

One of the others secures my legs together with zip ties, and the plastic bites into my ankles. They must’ve soaked them in milk thistle, because my skin is already burning and blistering. Once they’re secure, the shapeshifter gets off and stands next to Cindy. He has the same skin tone as the one currently holding me down with his legs on either side of my body.

“I don’t understand,” I say to my aunt as another zip tie goes around my wrists. I let out a hiss of pain and begin struggling anew. “I’ve done everything Alexander asked! If this is some sort of punishment—”

“You did as you were told, yes,” Cindy says, grimacing when the shapeshifter beside her puts his fingers inside her shoulder. Seconds later, a bullet drops to the ruined carpet with a dull sound “His Majesty is simply fulfilling his end of the deal.”

The shapeshifter holding me against the floor chuckles, as if he’s in on some joke I don’t know about, and Cindy shoots him an icy glare. Once again, I try to throw him off, but he slams my head down. “Get off!” I scream, something inside me breaking.Noah, where are you?

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