Page 48 of Death Comes for Her
Dante’s brows pinched together as he read the frightened prey's response trembling through my limbs. Any other time he might have used the opportunity to hunt me down and take me with vicious passion, but he sensed that real—very real—fear gripped me.
Even Simon’s calculated distance melted away. His lips parted into a worried frown that made my heart clench with something forbidden—something yearning.
“Sierra, we aren’t going to tell Sanctus.” The deep baritone of Dante’s voice eased the rattling bones bound in the confines of my muscles. I stopped shaking and swallowed the lump in my throat.
“Why not?” I asked meekly, eyes darting between hazel and ice blue.
Simon sighed, inching forward. Tentatively, he reached out with one hand, catching my wrist in the air. For some reason, I allowed him to pull me forward. He smoothed his palms over my arms before a hand landed on my cheek. His cooling thumb swiped a tear I hadn’t felt escape.
“I promised to take care of you, Sierra. That means Dante and I both. We’re going to keep you safe, lost princess to the Lorevain empire or not. Sanctus might be our Grandmaker, but I—we—both care for you most ardently as irrational as it is.”
Bodily shaking, knees buckling, I collapsed against Simon’s chest. The tears pricking at my eyes spilled over, carving tracks down my face. An errant sob built in my chest and burst free.
“One weekend with Sanctus Ambrose and a hundred other vampires under our roof with a missing fairy princess. How hard can it be?” Dante came up behind me, rubbing a hand down my spine as Simon held me. He kissed my head, proving the tenderness in their promise. “We are going to keep you safe, Sierra. For some gods-damned reason, you mean more to us than that old, undead bastard ever could.”
“You belong to us,” Simon stated.
“You’re ours,” Dante assured.
And for some reason, I trusted them. Perhaps it was the lingering effects of their venom in my blood, clouding myjudgment. Or maybe it was whatever illogical connection we’d slowly built over my months in the manor.
Regardless of Dante's and Simon’s vows of protection and their understanding of my identity, I had a mission to avenge my family. Sanctus Ambrose stole the sun and led to the slaughter of the fairies. He’d be under the same roof as me, and I had my father’s dagger.
I fell into the comforting embrace of the vampire lords, silently swearing to get my revenge no matter what.
Chapter 16
Hatred, like all emotions, existed for a reason. It was a sensation the body was meant to feel, but regretfully rarely seen to fruition. A disastrous, poisonous, and often ruinous sentiment. It held the power to burn within the body with the strength of a thousand suns.
The vehemence of it coursed through my core, cascaded through my limbs, and rippled in my golden blood. So potent, so formidable, so overwhelming, and above all, irresistible.
Pair my rage with my simmering hunger for retribution and malevolent machinations blossomed in my mind. I’d had weeks to think, to dream, to imagine what the night of Sanctus’ arrival would hold. How would the night progress with the vampire bastard who devoured the sun under the same roof as the last heir of the Lorevain Monarchs?
I would be a tool in the hands of the dead—a vessel for revenge.
Imani fed me a light but filling dinner, encouraging me to eat despite my distracted nature. I spent hours sitting at the window, staring with wide eyes as carriages and odd motorcars periodically arrived. Half the bites I took missed my mouth entirely. Even as Imani dressed me for the grand event, my gaze darted to the windows and the guests arriving.
There was only one vampire I wanted to see.
The dress adorning my frame was a mockery of mortality and carnage. With a base of sheer material, red threads and gems splashed across my breasts, arms, and torso while leaving little to the imagination. Glittering crimson dripped down my body as if I’d been caught in the wake of bloodshed.
What surprised me was the backside of the gown. It dipped low enough to reveal my top set of gilded scars but went no further. Keeping the other sets of wing scars out of sight hid the true depth of my heritage. Overall, a beautifully haunting and stealthy design meant to draw attention, yet conceal what must never be disclosed.
Simon and Dante promised they would protect me. While the design of the dress would purposefully draw notice, they did their part in the alterations to ensure they maintained their vow. The world knew they had a fairy in their possession, and that would force their hands to show me off. That didn’t mean they must show all their cards and divulge I was the missing Lorevain heir.
I gulped down a glass of wine while Imani finished my hair. Golden waves trailed down my neck, the sides twisted up with pins to show off the uniquely fairy tips of my ears. Dark gold eye paint and kohl liner highlighted the magical aureate nature of my eyes.
Crim sat like an orange loaf of fur at the edge of the bed, watching us with crooked yellow eyes. The tip of his tail flicked in a pattern that matched my impatience and agitation. Imani’s voice drifted through my ears as lightning bristled along the edge of my nerves. I didn’t hear a word she said until I stood from my chair and faced the bedroom door.
Simon and Dante hovered in the frame, both dressed impeccably in black and gold.
Dante, as always, appeared more rugged, opting to forget the bowtie and leaving the top buttons of his black shirt undone.His dark hair remained disheveled, falling in intentionally messy waves to his shoulders. Not even the nasty scars slashed across his nose, eye, and jaw, distracted from his roguish charm.
Simon’s suit remained crisp and clean. His black and gold bowtie sat perfectly, matching the golden buttons on his waistcoat, his gold cufflinks and watch, down to the shining buckles on his leather shoes. Every inch the reserved, elegant lord. Refined and alluring in a way that would normally make my mouth water.
Their voices buzzed in my ears as they spoke. Words of possession and comfort, meant to soothe and encourage as we stepped forward into a doomed night.
Neither of them noticed the object strapped to my thigh, hidden beneath the red splatter of my dress. Both men would have raged and fought me on my reckless plan if they had. I held my breath during the long walk to the ballroom on the first floor, praying to the gods in the hopes neither vampire lord brushed against the unseen hilt of a dagger.
