Wicked Soul (Ancient Blood #1)(103)

Warin growled—but then his shoulders slumped and his back straightened. “I will come with you willingly,” he said. “If you swear to leave Liv unharmed.”

“Warin, no! No, this isn’t his fault—please, he didn’t know.” I turned to Zeth. “Please, take me. Not him. He didn’t know what I am.”

Zeth laughed—a chilling sound that cut through the night. “Oh, how adorable. A witch trying to sacrifice herself for her master. I’m afraid I can grant neither of your wishes. The Lord learned of your persuasion and did not end your life. And your little witch, my lord… well, you and I both know what the only outcome is for a witch who’s tasted vampire blood.”

“No!” Warin’s voice was a furious snarl. “You will not put your hands on her!” He launched himself at the other Ancient faster than my eyes could follow.

But Zeth simply raised his arm and backhanded Warin, sending him to the floor with a sickening crunch of bones.

“Warin!” I cried.

My lover lay crumpled by Zeth’s feet. The Elder looked down at him, eyes glowing dangerously. “That was very, very stupid,” he whispered.

I didn’t think—the sight of Warin at this vile creature’s feet made me reach for the magic inside of me before I could reconsider. I hurled a ball of green energy at Zeth with a scream of rage. He’d hurt Warin—he was going to pay.

But my magic was as ineffective as Warin’s strength. Zeth merely moved out of the way of the ball of energy hurtling toward him, and the next second, I had a cold hand wrapped around my throat.

“It takes a lot more than a baby witch to take down an Ancient, little girl,” he sneered.

“Let her go!” Warin demanded from the ground. I saw him fight to get up and launch himself at Zeth again, but the black-haired vampire swept his arm out, knocking Warin to the floor with another crunch of bones.

“Warin!” I kicked at Zeth and clawed at his fingers around my neck to no effect. Growling like Warin had, I reached for my magic again, but Zeth shook me hard once, and the connection with my inner power slipped on a wave of pain.

“You son of a bitch!” I wheezed.

“Careful now,” Zeth said softly. “As you are the Lord’s pet, I am expected to extend you the courtesy of not killing you before his sentence has fallen. But, if you try that little magic trick one more time, I’m afraid I have no other choice than to end you now.”

“Liv,” Warin groaned. His voice was thick and hoarse, as if he were struggling to speak. “Don’t fight him. Don’t…He’s too strong. I can’t…”

The sound of defeat in my lover’s voice was what finally made me stop struggling.

Through our time together, Warin had been an unquestionable strength—he’d been my shield against the world and its horrors, and I’d known from the day I met him that there was nothing he couldn’t fight against.

Except this. Except a vampire many times his age.

Warin’s surrender drained every last vestige of fight from my body as true despair finally sank in.

We were lost.

“Zeth!”

The shout carried through the night, and as I saw Aleric approaching with long strides, a shimmer of hope bloomed in my belly. Maybe there was a way… maybe Aleric had found way out.

“Please. Whatever you think of the girl, it’s not true. She’s harmless. Barely a witch at all. Our Ancients are too few and far between as it is—don’t let a pathetic human be the reason we lose another.”

That hope withered and died at the desperate look on Aleric’s face. He didn’t have a plan—he hadn’t found a weakness in the Ancient we could exploit.

“Aleric Waldlitch… I know you’re not telling me you had any knowledge whatsoever of your brother’s blood bonded companion being a witch—weak as she may be.” Zeth leveled his disturbing eyes at Warin’s brother. “Because if you did… I would have no choice but to bring you to trial as well.”

“Zeth… please,” Aleric whispered. “He’s my brother. Please.”

“Which is it, young Waldlitch?” the black-haired vampire asked, voice hard. “Do you have knowledge of this witch you wish for to disclose? Or do you wish to live?”

Aleric stared at the Ancient for a long moment. Regret dimmed his blue eyes as he turned to Warin. “I’m sorry, brother,” he whispered.

And then he turned and ran.

Leaving us at Zeth’s mercy.



* * *



“It’s terrifying, isn’t it?” Zeth said as the heavy silver door swung shut behind us, lock clicking in place. “Love. Twelve hundred years, and love is what will finally end your existence, young Lord.”

“I thought you were bringing us to a trial,” Warin sneered. He was chained in silver by his wrists and ankles inside the cage and still covered in the dried blood of his enemies. He looked like a trapped animal, and my heart ached for him.

Not that I was in a much better state. Zeth had brought us to a mortician’s residence in Indiana, a territory left mostly unclaimed by the undead, Warin told me. His servants, I suspected skinwalkers, had trussed me up on the other end of the cage in much the same manner as Warin, and my shoulders and wrists already hurt from carrying my weight.