Page 15 of Fangs & Freaks
“If the Obsidian took your brother because he’s a unicorn, why didn’t they take you too? Doesn’t make sense, does it?”
She flinches, her lips parting, but no sound escapes. Her throat bobs as she swallows hard.
“Answer me,” I demand, my voice a growl as I flash in front of her and pin her against the wall.
She whimpers, her voice trembling. “I’m not a purebred like him. My mom was a unicorn, but my dad... my dad was human.”
I let it sink in before I sneer. “That means your blood won’t be as potent.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, tears pooling in her eyes. “I just wanted my brother safe.”
“You’re lucky Varys has intrigued me,” I say, my tone cold and lethal. “Or you’d be paying with your life right now.”
Her breath hitches. “Don’t hurt him.”
“Oh, I’m going to hurt him, Vienna,” I reply, my lips curling into a cruel smile. “But only when he’s begging for it. Now go fix this Bloody Mary situation. I won’t be agreeable twice.”
She nods frantically, her hands trembling as she backs away and hurries down the hallway, disappearing from sight.
I need to find Blackwell and update him immediately. Varys’ face flashes in my mind, the dangerous allure of him, the way his magic—his very presence—pulls me in like the promise of forbidden fruit.
It’s a distraction I can’t afford.
By the time I find Blackwell, the bloodlust is a dull ache behind my ribs, coiling and uncoiling like a serpent. He’s in the game room, playing darts with one of the Obsidian members, except the member is the dartboard.
“Hold still,” Blackwell drawls, lining up his shot. He flicks his wrist, and the dart sinks into the guy’s shoulder with a wet thunk.
“Bullseye.” Blackwell grins as the Obsidian member stifles a yelp, his hands shaking against the wall.
“Enough,” I bark, the sound echoing off the walls.
Blackwell turns, his grin slipping when he sees me. “Well, someone’s in a mood.”
The recruit takes the opportunity to yank the dart out, blood dripping from his shoulder. Blackwell watches him, then saunters over, his usual swagger tempered by curiosity.
“What’s got your fangs in a twist?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“We’ve got a problem,” I say, stepping closer. The scent of fresh blood clings to the air, tugging at the edges of my restraint.
“When don’t we?” he smirks, but the humor fades when he catches my expression. “Alright, spill.”
“Varys called Bloody Mary.”
Blackwell’s brow furrows, and for a moment, his usual cocky demeanor falters. “The Bloody Mary? Like…mirror ritualBloody Mary?”
“Yes, you idiot,” I snap.
He whistles low, shaking his head. “Shit. That’s bold. Desperate, but bold.”
“It gets worse,” I say, my voice dropping into a growl. “She answered.”
His eyes widen slightly, but then his expression shifts, something sly and unreadable settling over his face. “Oh, maybe that’s who I saw.”
My muscles tense, a dangerous mix of disbelief and fury roiling through me. “What?”
He shrugs, leaning against the wall like we’re discussing the weather. “Would she be the hottie in the cell? Pale skin, blood-red lips, eyes like they’ve seen the end of the world?”
I stare at him, my fangs aching again as anger flares hot and sharp. “Yousaw herand didn’t say anything?”
