Page 6 of Stalk the Dark
Not unlesshelet me out.
But could he be reasoned with this close to the rising? Would it have mattered if I’d woken sooner and tried to talk to him?
Something moved in the shadows to my right. Not him but one of the bat creatures, barely visible in the gloom. It hunched over, wings folded around its body, waiting for instructions, no doubt. I should have guessed he’d have creatures to do his bidding.
I’d read the file, all six hundred years of it, and come to one conclusion. Ezekiel Tepes was a monster. The fact the Order wanted me to protect the townsfolk from him was understandable, but they also wanted me to protect him, and that made no fucking sense.
The sudden silence registered, and ice flooded my veins.
He was done.
Mary was dead too.
I kept my breath even, stalling the panic and the fear from taking control of my body, and peered intothe darkness at the spot where I suspected he stood now, watching me. When I spoke, my voice came out strong with authority. “You need to let me go. Now.”
A rough rasping sound drifted out of the shadows, and it took a moment to realize it was laughter.
He was laughing at me.
Anger formed a fist in my chest. “By the power of the Order of Helsing, Idemandthat you release me at once!”
The shadows leapt at me, caging me to the wall with long sinewy limbs that reeked of desiccation and death. I bit back a scream and squeezed my eyes shut, breathing through my nose to force my pulse into a steady rhythm.
Not prey.
I’m not fucking prey.
Cold fingers, skin as dry as paper, wrapped around my throat, and despite my valiant efforts, my pulse fell into a canter, beating like a trapped bird against his grip.
He forced my head up. “Look at me.” His voice was death and oblivion. It was the abyss and everything that spoke of nightmares and despair. “Open your eyes, little silver.” Talons caressed my scalp, snagging onto a tendril of my silvery locks and tugging almost playfully. “The Order should know better than to send such a pretty thing into my lair. Pretty, fragile…” He inhaled. “Ripe.” Hot wetness trailed up my cheek. His tongue. Oh fuck, he was licking me.
Heat flushed my body with anger. “Stop it!” I bucked to throw him off me, and his grip on me tightened, leaving me momentarily breathless. “Open. Your. Eyes.” His words were a blood-coated kiss against my parted lips. “Do it now. Or I’ll do it for you, and I can’t promise you won’t lose one…or both of your pretty peepers.”
Being with the Order meant that neither he nor his minions could kill me, but maiming wasn’t off the table. I’d seen the files. Learned what had happened to the ones that came before me. Several dead, several maimed, only a handful came back unscathed. That number included replacements to the original operatives sent to act as fang blockers, moral compasses, anything to keep him from going on a bloody rampage. “Befriend, beguile, distract, whatever it takes,” Micah had said. “But be smart and know when to back down. Know when it’s time to retreat.”
I wouldn’t be a failure to the Order.
I opened my eyes to gray skin pulled tight over bone, lips too thin and pulled back to reveal long teeth set into bloodred gums. His nostrils flared as I lifted my gaze to the fires of hell that burned in his eyes. And in that moment, hell stared right back at me, filled with flame and ravenous hunger.
He had to be at least a head and a half taller than me, but his frame was hunched over me now, the breadth of his shoulders the only indication of his potential power.
So this is what a century-long sleep looked like.
He trailed a talon down my neck, the sting of the scrape turning to a slow burn as he made his way to my collar, pulling it back to reveal the silver chain that held my Order emblem.
He touched the chain and let out a low hiss, his eyes fluttering closed as if he reveled in the burning pain the contact evoked.
“I could tear it from you,” he said, his voice a wicked whisper. “Leave you defenseless.”
“The emblem isn’t my only protection.”
“A few words on parchment.”
“Signed inyourblood.”
A growl vibrated his throat. “You won’t stop me feeding, little silver. I won’t allow it. This ismyyear.Mytime. Iwillrevel in it. I will bathe in blood and enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. It is my right to do so. Stand in my way and you will know nothing but pain. But step aside”—he leaned closer, his wicked mouth a mere inch from mine—“and you may enjoy the pleasures of court. Immerse yourself in them and return to your Order intact once your year is done.”
Was he trying to make a deal with me?
