But soon he grows tired, while I’ve taken strength from his alligator. I grin—funny, that his plan started out with him weakening me, and it turned out the other way around.
My claws finally slash through his lower back, right where his kidneys are. He arches back, growling, blood swelling out of the four gashes in his slimy flesh.
And then something unexpected happens. Something I wouldn’t have thought possible in a million years.
I planned to take my time and claw at him until his flesh comes off his bones, just like his lash did to me in the past. But the scent of his now exposed blood fills my nostrils, making me roll my eyes and forget myself. The last coherent thought that I have is, I’ll be damned, my executioner is my fucking Grail.
That’s why he always smelled so good to me. But I could never tell that he was truly my source of infinite power, because his blood was coated in the body of a serpent, a vampire’s natural enemy.
The need to take his blood now controls my brain completely. The scent of him drives me wild. I become pure instinct, like a predator. I want to feed on him, that’s all I know.
He turns to face me, but I’m no longer a slave to my anger. I realize anger made me slower than usual, which must be why my masters insisted so much on keeping all emotion at bay. But that’s all gone now. Emotion doesn’t control me anymore. Pure instinctual bloodlust does.
Mark opens his serpent jaw at me, his forked tongue dashing out to spew poison, but he doesn’t get to. I’m faster than him as I slit his throat with my claw. He whirls around from the force, but with my vampire speed I flash around, and swing my claws at his throat again.
The flesh falls off his throat bones, and he falls to the ground, tearing gasps from all the serpents.
But that’s not enough. I have a very clear script in my head about how I want Isolde’s tormentor to die, and how I want to take his blood. I look around for the proper item, and grab the first shifted serpent in my way. I take him between my hands as if he’s a feather, and swing him around my head like a lasso, sending him like a whip to coil around Mark’s huge serpent tail.
When the two of them are properly knotted together, I rip the serpent’s throat open, and tear into his throat bones with my fangs to ensure he’s dead. Soraya screams, the serpents hissing in dread at the brutality of the scene. Anticipation bubbles up in me—they’ve seen nothing yet.
I jump from one rock to the other toward the cave’s ceiling, and knot the dead serpent around a pointed rock sticking out of the cave wall, well overhead.
In a few seconds, I have Mark hanging upside down from the rock. He swings his tail desperately. He would have been able to free himself, which is why I knotted him with the other serpent. The dead can’t struggle.
I’m standing up on the rock like a king, Mark hanging under my feet, wheezing and twisting. I look out at the serpents that stare open-mouthed all around the cave, taking in their awe. I ignore the terror on Soraya’s face, and point my bloody claw at the beauty with chocolate hair and sparkling blue eyes looking up at me like I’m a god.
“This is for you.”
With that, I jump off the rock, pirouette in the air, and drive my claws through Mark’s body from his cock to his throat, splitting him open on my way to the ground. I land on my feet with a thud, bits of rock rising from the ground from the impact.
Silence fills the cave while I straighten up, raising my eyes to my masterpiece. A single sound rips through the silence—Soraya, screaming and falling to her knees, terror filled eyes staring up at Serpaint’s mutilated, bleeding body. She tries to run over, but Lord Dracula catches her by the shoulders and pulls her back.
“You don’t have to watch,” he tells her, granting her some mercy.
My chest swells as I watch the executioner who took pleasure in whipping me and leaving me for the ravens to pick at my wounds. He’s now dying a cruel death at my hands. He’s still alive, but not for long. He chokes on his own blood as our gazes lock. I take it in, seeing the recognition in his eyes, the pain—he’s going through hell.
“I told you by the time this was over you’d be proud of me.”
I step right under him and close my eyes, letting his blood flow on my face. I open my mouth and drink it in, letting it slide its way through my veins, filling me with power to the point of bursting. When it’s too much to contain, my eyes blast open, and light shoots out of them, my aura of strength pulsing around my body.
Compelled by this might, the serpents bend to the floor, crawling their way to my feet. Soon, they’ve filled the arena, lying at my feet like rays of sun. There’s only one exception—Soraya.
I meet her eyes when I turn around, and she shrinks under the power that oozes from me. There’s hatred mixed with the desire to be my chosen one in her eyes, I can see it clearly. How I’ll love displaying my love for Isolde to her.
I look above her head at Lord Dracula’s face, who’s looking at me like a proud parent. If I didn’t know better, I’d say those are tears in his eyes.
Then I turn to the only person who can make my heart jump—Isolde. She has her hands at her mouth, her eyes big and shocked. She’s alone up on the highest stone row of the amphitheater in her gray dress, the image of an avenged angel. Ah, the liberation knowing we’re free to be together!
I flash over to her, and pull her in my arms. She blinks as if she doesn’t know what hit her. Closing my eyes, I take in her scent.
“That’s why your scent was so appealing to me the entire time,” I whisper. “He was my Grail, and you were his mate.” I open my eyes, her face glowing in the bluish light from my irises. “And now that I’ve taken his blood, you are my mate.”
I can feel that knowledge, that bond, spreading to every cell of my body, and by the smile that lights up her face, she has started to feel it, too. I take her heart-shaped, angel-like face between my hands, looking deeply into her sapphire eyes.
“Mine,” I whisper, and bend to claim her lips in a kiss. She leans away, and I realize her abusive husband’s blood is still all over me. I look down at her to realize I’ve stained her dress with it, and move to put distance between us and apologize for being such a complete idiot. This must be disturbing to her, a real trauma.
But Isolde stops me, flinging her arms around my neck. She rises on the tips of her toes, and I bend to let her press her sweet lips to mine. She wasn’t shrinking away from me, she simply wanted to take the lead, and be the one who takes charge and claims me.
The sky roars above the mountain, the forces of nature blessing our union. I am her true mate, and there’s nothing anyone can ever do to take her away from me. My arms go around her lean body, pressing her to me, my hard body crushing her soft round breasts.
Mine.
The Wicked
THE WICKED RUNS THROUGH the forest, heavy rain soaking his cloak. He pushes leaves and hanging boughs out of his way. He glances behind, relieved to see the mountain far behind him. The clouds are heaviest above the mountaintop, lightning striking, thunder ripping through the sky.
Something big must have happened, something heavy. Either the serpent has gained boundless power, or the vampire has assimilated the serpent’s. With a pang of disappointment, he suspects it is the latter.