Moonlight Prince (Vampire Girl #4)(6)

It flows into the grey stone, changes it. Turns it a deep purple with streaks of silver.

"What have you done to him?" I scream, my body shaking with terror and rage.

"Shhh," says Lucian, caressing the stone. "Do not worry, my dear. Riku is safe. Safe and well."

He's in the stone. The bastard put Riku in the stone. "What do you want with him?"

"I need his help. And then he will be free. I swear." He smiles at me.

I spit at his face.

The phlegm doesn't reach him. But I don't care.

Lucian just shakes his head. A strange disappointment in his eyes.

"What now?" I ask. "Chain me up just like you did your son?"

He raises an eyebrow, then sits down to my level. "Oh no, there's no reason for that. No, I have a far simpler solution." He pulls something from his cloak. A vial. A potion.

No. Not again. I'm not taking something again.

"Don't be afraid, my dear. This will simply make you sleep. A deep, beautiful sleep. Your friends will think the fever broke you, that Levi's tortures and poisons put you into a coma in the end. They will try to help you, but nothing will work."

I lean back. "No. Please."

He doesn't look into my eyes. He doesn't seem to hear. "But you will wake. One day. When the time is right. When I have need of you."

"No. Please—"

He grabs my jaw. I try to keep it closed, but he pries it open. Stuffs the vial down my throat. The liquid pours down, coating my tongue with bitterness. I try not to swallow, but it's gagging me. Gagging me until my muscles react against my will. My mind begins to fade. My vision blurs. His is the last face I see. The face of my father.

"Good," he whispers. "Good."





Chapter 1


BLEED FOR ME


"Sometimes wolves come in sheep's clothing."

—Fenris Vane



They won't kill me. At least not yet. As far as words of consolation go, these are pretty pathetic, but they're all I have. They're the words I whisper to myself when Metsi comes in each morning to administer my dose of prenatal herbs by having her lackey force my jaw open as she pours the bitter liquid down my throat. They're the words I use to quiet my mind at night when I am left alone save for the sound of the wind and wild animals outside my barred window. They're the words I think to myself each morning when I lurch out of bed to vomit up my morning sickness into a pail they left for me. I don't know if this is caused by my pregnancy, or by the herbs Metsi gives me—but each day I feel worse.

It only took a week for these words to replace dum spiro spero in my mind. I still have hope, deep down, buried where my magic now lays dormant. I have tried to cast spells, but my magic is a dead thing inside me, there but useless. They've placed wards on my room to ensure I cannot use magic, and it works.

It's not a fancy room, but it's not a dungeon. So there's that. I have a small mattress on the floor that's clean and warm. A room in which to bathe and relieve myself. And three changes of clothes so that I don't stink. And there's one window, always left open, but barred with lead to keep me from escaping. My door is always locked. There are no decorations. Nothing to occupy my mind save the occasional book Metsi brings in to let me read—mostly very dry books about the history of the Fae.

Each day I get a walk to keep the baby healthy. The walk involves following Metsi and her guard down to the dungeons, where I endure an hour of watching them torture Levi.

As I sit and watch right now, my stomach clenches and bile rises in my throat. It is suffocatingly hot down here, with no ventilation and fires burning that smell of flesh. The air is acrid and stale and reeks of blood, sweat and excrement. I cannot control my vomiting when I'm down here, so Metsi hands me a bucket, but refuses to allow me to go back to my room.

"I would think you would enjoy watching this monster suffer," Metsi says, holding up a knife, the tip red hot from the fire she held it in. "After all, did you not suffer at his hands? Did you not see the effects of what he did to your friend Kayla? To the people you claim to love? He is getting nothing less than what he deserves."

Her next words are drowned out by the screaming. Levi no longer looks like a man, but rather like a charred, skinned wild thing that just wants to be put out of its misery.

And Metsi's not entirely wrong. There was a time I would have paid to see Levi get his comeuppance. A time I would have volunteered to exact justice from his flesh. A pound for a pound. But I didn't know what I know now. I didn't know that seeing someone tortured, seeing someone suffer beyond measure, takes its toll on your soul, no matter what that person did to deserve it. I didn't know how vile it would feel to watch what I am now forced to watch.

Today, after Metsi is done with Levi, she turns to me with a cruel smile. "I have something to take care of, but since you are under contract to spend time with each of the princes, I'll leave you two alone to bond. Consider it quality time with this month's monster."

We are not left alone of course. Two armed guards are stationed on the other side of the door. But we are alone enough. More alone than we've been in a long time.

One of his eyes is swollen shut by an ugly bruise. His other eye is bloodshot. There are pieces of skin missing from his body, and burns that are festering. On the table next to him sits a variety of torture devices, as well as a cup of human blood, to help him heal in small increments, just enough to wound him again.