Page 35 of The Sanguine Selection
It’s too much. Too many sensations filling me at once. Overwhelmed I can only sit here and cry. Too afraid to move. Too disgusted to reach between my legs and push the creatures away, not that I could anyway. My feet are numb, body twitching from the revulsion of what I’m forced to do in this moment.
I’m lightheaded, blackness creeping at the edges of my vision but I will myself to stay present, too frightened of what might happen to me in the dark. My arms give way and I fall back again, my bruised head bouncing on the stone once more. Pain flashes and I sob, smashing my fists against the tombs in my frustration.
Stuck.
Trapped.
With foreign fingers enslaving me, and frozen tongues abusing and tasting the most intimate parts of me, I wonder if this isn’t real, if this is one of my dreams again, a night terror gone too far. But as their hold on me eases, their wretched lips removed from my skin, a noise jars me. I let my head fall to the side, unable to move my body on my own anymore. Through the haziness of my blurred vision, someone approaches. A dark suit comes into focus, then gloved hands and a head of white hair.
Jasper.
He steps closer and relief washes over me—he’s come to help, to save me from this fate. But to my horror, he falls to his knees before the tomb, head bowing so deep his forehead rests on the stone, mere inches from the monsters. I remember then—he brought me here, he left me at the mercy of the monsters. He did this to me.
Jasper shows no fear, only devotion, as he lifts his head and gazes down at the blood-soaked monsters. A smile tugs at his lips, and… relief perhaps, as he utters, “My kings.”
My blood runs cold.
The kings.
The Selection.
Oh my god. Horror fills me as a realization dawns…
The monsters are not monsters—they are the famed vampire twins, my reason for even being here was to try and awaken them. I didn’t know what that meant, not really. In my head I pictured two ancient royals lying on ornate beds, crowns of gold surrounding their dresses of white hair. But this I could never have imagined, not even in my nightmares.
“Rise Jasper, our most loyal servant.” A raspy hiss, sounding like crumbling rock more than words.
“My kings,” Jasper whispers again, emotion clogging his voice. “It has been a hundred years. There is much to tell you. But first, a rest. I’ve had your chambers prepared. Let the blood awaken you, revive you, then I’ll tell you all of it.”
“And the girl?” one rasps.
Jasper’s eyes shift from the sight of his kings and back over to me, like he’d forgotten I was here. His face hardens. “She’s no one of consequence, my lords. Food for your survival, nothing more.”
That hurts more than it should. At the Selection it appeared that whomever could awaken the kings would be recognized and respected. But Jasper’s words are like a slap to the face. Was it all just lies?
Another deep twist has me groaning, and I close my eyes as the pain surges down low. I belt out a raspy scream as a final explosion of blood expels from me. The kings are on me in an instant, dragging me to them, faces again buried between my legs.
My vision finally blanks and darkness envelops me as I realize with horror…
My worst nightmares have come true.
17
The Betrayer
Inky darkness shrouds the corridor,where flickering torchlight paints eerie, undulating tapestries upon the chilled, stone canvases of the walls.
My footsteps resound softly, akin to the hushed confidences of a malevolent mystery, as I proceed towards a clandestine rendezvous.
Within this ominous realm of duplicity, I am distinguished as the embodiment of villainy, a figure that flourishes in the labyrinthine depths of deceit, but only I shall free the inhabitants of Sintara. My intentions, veiled in the obscurity of shadow, reflect the maleficent ambiance of the ancient castle itself.
Guiding my way through these faintly illuminated passages, the disconcerting tidings of the newly awakened kings and their recent acquisition reverberate in my consciousness. They have seized the girl, the female an enigma yet to be unraveled. Her very veins course with an alluring elixir of life potent enough to rouse the wizened, twin monarchs. The mere notion of her presence gnaws at my core, setting ablaze desires and aspirations capable of shaking the very pillars of this somber realm.
My steps quicken, hastened not by urgency but by the turmoil churning within. The awakening of the kings, that inexorable stirring in the blood of ancient power, leaves an indelible mark on my conscience. I, who have walked the shadowed paths of duplicity for years, harboring secrets that could topple empires, now find myself at the precipice of treacherous change.
The kings were never meant to stir, never meant to reclaim their dominion. My loyalty to them, a facade impeccably maintained, is like a serpent that coils around my blackened soul.
For I, a vital cog in the rebellion's machinations, am pledged to their service, sworn to uphold their rule.
