Page 92 of Entombed By Blood
A balding vampire stands up, bows swiftly at Cain, and glances down at the notes clutched in his trembling hands.“Lord Cain, do you have anything to say about the rumours that you’re travelling?”
My sire looks straight at the camera.“Yes. I do believe it’s about time all of my daughters returned home, don’t you? I’ll be visiting the Old Country during the full moon to collect my youngest child. When I return, I’ll be holding a gala, with the five of them as my guests of honour.”
The reporters go wild at that, launching question after question about me and Imogen at Cain. My sire simply returns to his seat, waving Bella forward to deal with the influx of questions. My sister’s normally warm skin looks grey under the light as she starts answering, but I don’t get to hear any of it because the screen blinks off.
I jolt out of my seat, staring at Draven with wide eyes.
“I do hate press conferences,” the vampire drawls, prowling closer.
He’s found some clothes from somewhere. The black shirt and slacks aren’t much different from his old uniform, and they do nothing to soften the predatory look he’s giving me.
“That wasn’t a conference,” I whisper, hating the way my voice shakes. “It was a warning.” His expression doesn’t change, and a stone sinks in my gut. “You knew.”
I’m beginning to think that Draven doesn’t believe in lying because he just shrugs. “Would it make you happier if I denied it?”
“How long?" I demand.
"Every few hours for the last two days, give or take," he replies. "They're playing it on loop, obsessing over every word he says. The normal."
It's a threat. This is my sire reminding me exactly what's at stake here. Keeping Immy as insurance and reminding me why I can't just hide in a cabin for the duration of the full moon.
My sister is going to die unless I deliver Frost's head.
"It doesn't change anything," Draven continues. "Unless, perhaps, you've been keeping secrets like Gideon says."
This is it, I realise dully. This is the moment when I can tell him everything. Confess to being torn between my new thralls and my loyalty to my sister. Beg him to help me find Immy and get her out of her coffin.
But when I open my mouth, no sound comes out. Fear roots me to the spot. Before I know it, my lips have sealed closed once more. I fall back onto the cushions with a sigh, rubbing at my temples.
How well do I know these men, really?
Frost alone is living proof of why they can’t be trusted. Gideon doesn’t trust me, and—while he might be right not to—the feeling goes both ways. Draven... Well, I won’t deny there’s enough of a spark between us to set the world ablaze, but I get the feeling Draven does as he pleases. Silas and Finn are wonderful, and being around them is easier than the others, but they’re also the lowest ranking members of the pack. Then Vane... quiet, thoughtful Vane, who stopped me when my thoughts were so loud that I couldn’t think past the need to silence them.
God, I don’t even know if they consider me their captive or their ally. They won’t let me run, so I suppose it’s the former, but can I truly say that I feel like their prisoner? The thrall bond makes being around them feel natural. Right.
My head is a mess. Whether that’s a product of the silver exposure or just my own fucked up situation is still up for debate.
Draven lets out a low chuckle. “You think so loudly, doll. Your frustration is written all over your face.”
“I’m not used to this uncertainty,” I retort. “Before I was shoved into that coffin, I was Cain’s favourite. I wanted what he wanted. I did as I was told. In return, my sire ensured I had everything. Now... I don’t even have a clue who I am anymore, let alone how to get what I want.”
His smile turns predatory. “And which do you prefer? Being the favourite, or being free?”
“Am I free?” I demand. “Can I walk out of that door right now without any of you stopping me?”
“Is that what you want?” Frost’s voice breaks the illusory bubble of privacy, and I spin to look at him, standing in the doorway to the office. “Do you want to be free of us, Eve? You asked us if we wanted out of the thrall bonds, but we never asked you. You never got a say, after all. Say the word and we’ll break those bonds. You could run back to Cain if you wanted.” His eyes harden. “But if you do that, the world might never have another shot at killing the bastard who locked you away for two hundred years. Humanity will remain slaves under his regime and the remaining lycans will eventually fall to him too.”
“No pressure,” Draven adds, cheerfully.
I shake my head. “I don’t think I’d survive another bond breaking,” I admit, pressing the heel of my hand into my chest in an effort to dispel the memory of the snap. “But I—” I cut myself off before I can admit too much.
“Help us take down Cain, and we’ll set you free,” Frost promises, his grey eyes soft and earnest. “You can go anywhere, do anything, and we won’t follow unless you want us to.”
For a second, it’s like nothing has changed. My mind wants to believe—more than anything—that this man still loves me. Treacherous memories of howsafeI once felt with him surface, forcing their way past the block I placed on them until my eyes start to burn with tears. God, I’d give anything to go back to how we were before. I miss being able to just step into his arms and know I could tell him anything and he’d listen.
Oh, he listened all right. Listened well enough to take every word back to his precious resistance.
I want to snort at how foolish I was. I still am, apparently, because that look is breaking down my resolve with every second that passes.
