Page 92 of Loreblood
He grunted and shrugged. “I don’t see it, Skar.”
Skartovius sighed. “Of course you don’t see it, fool. It’sinsideher.”
“Allegedly,” the newcomer quipped, walking away from me.
Lord Ashfen showed no fear at the man’s stature, tone, or brashness, but that same fear ripped the words from my lungs: “W-What’s inside me?!”
Skartovius met my scared gaze. “The thing that would have led to your torment yesternight if not for us, little temptress. The thing keeping you alive, and which will haunt you for as long as you live.” The nobleblood’s smile was sharp, vicious, tinged with madness. “You are uniquely in possession of this thing . . . which we call the Loreblood.”
Chapter 28
The trio’s eyes lit up at Skartovius’ proclamation. Mine narrowed—it was not a word I’d heard before.
Loreblood?
“I can see by the expression on your pretty face you have more questions,” the nobleblood said. “I will answer them. First, I must dine. I am famished from the events of last night, and Lukain’s intrusion meant I didn’t get supper.”
My neck hollowed and I tensed.
Skartovius broke into a smirk. “I won’t be dining on you, temptress. Fear not.” He walked to the one curtained window of the room, pulled it aside, and squinted past the gray with a wince, clearly trying to beat back his weakness from the sun. “My carriage should arrive shortly with my meal. There’s enough for you, Vallan, should you need sustenance.” His chin dipped over to the large newcomer.
The man grunted. He rested up against a wall, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Was a hard night’s work. I could drink.”
Garroway asked him, “Are we any closer?”
Vallan nodded. “Closer every day, cub.”
My eyes swiveled between them. They had stopped looking at me, essentially ignoring me as they carried on a conversation I knew nothing about.
It was oddly relieving. Being the center of their perverse attentions was a nerve-wracking experience.Maybe I can slip out once they’re . . . dining.
A new fear struck a chord inside me because I knew what a vampire meant when they had to “dine.”They’ll be drainingthe blood of some poor human.I grimaced at my next thought.Probably someone from the gala who didn’t manage to escape. Shit . . . maybe even someone I know.
Minutes later, Lord Ashfen let the curtain fall. “Ah. There we are.” He marched toward the door, opening it but not stepping outside.
A woman with an alabaster face came down from a carriage. She was hooded, bundled up, and shockingly beautiful.
A note of familiarity filled me at the sight of her face in the doorway. I recognized her from the crowd at the shadowgala. She had been wearing a snug gown that accentuated her narrow build, with expensive gold jewelry adorning her arms and neck. Now, she looked little more than a guttergirl, like me, hiding her true beauty behind rags and tattered clothes.
A rustling sound followed in her wake. I stepped to the side to look around Skartovius and saw she dragged a bound man with a rope across the street, effortlessly hauling him into the room as he writhed and cried out in a muffled voice past the gag in his mouth.
Please don’t be Rirth or Culiar . . .
Skartovius took the man, lifted him easily, and shoved him against a wall on his ass. The woman nodded to the nobleblood and left without a word, giving me a quick, curious glance before departing.
The door closed, leaving us alone with this poor victim. I got a good look at his face and was sickened by the wave of relief that filled me. I didn’t know this man, yet I felt awful knowing his fate.
The man stared up with bulging, fearful eyes at the three approaching monsters who circled him. He whined past his gag, kicking his legs out to keep them at bay.
When he saw me standing behind the vampires—the color in my cheeks, the terror in my gaze—his eyes only grew wider and his piteous sounds more incessant.
He’s begging for help. To free him.
I worried my lip.
Garroway turned and fixed me with a sympathetic frown. “You should go upstairs for this, lass.”
My nostrils flared at his gentle tone—the horror he wished to spare me. “No,” I announced. “I must be reminded constantly of the kind of creatures you are.”
