Blood King Page 9

  Nero’s knees had gone blessedly numb, for a time, but now they ached with a pain that he could do nothing to relieve.

  It was impossible to tell how much time had passed. Hours? Days? Weeks? He wasn’t sure.

  Worst of all, his throat burned with a now-familiar thirst, a desperate need for blood, though he never felt the ache of hunger for real food.

  Lord Adrius had told him to stay, and like an obedient dog waiting for its owner to return home, he had done so. He could do nothing else. Nothing but kneel and wait while his hatred continued to simmer.

  But for all of Nero’s bitter rage, the vampire lord’s point had been made. Nero belonged to him now. His opposition would serve no purpose.

  When the door creaked open, Nero winced at the light that poured in from the hallway.

  Lord Adrius stepped into the door frame, Neryssa at his side. She looked down at him with eyes that mirrored her sire’s in their coldness.

  Had Lord Adrius ordered her to do away with her compassion? Or had it left all on its own?

  “How long has it been?” Nero’s voice came out scratchy from disuse. It made him sound weak and frail, and he hated it.

  “The only question that should concern you is whether it has been long enough,” Adrius said.

  Nero hung his head.

  Adrius’ heavy footsteps paced around the room, surrounding Nero. “Are you thirsty?”

  “Yes.” Despite his exhaustion, Nero couldn’t keep the anger from his voice.

  The footsteps stopped behind him. “You’ve held on to this anger this whole time.”

  Nero clenched his fists until his wrists strained from the effort, but he kept his response to himself. There was nothing to be gained from telling Adrius how much he still hated him. How angry he still was.

  Adrius crossed the room, back toward Neryssa and the door.

  “No!” Desperation crept into the word as Nero looked up once more. “Please, don’t leave me here like this again.”

  The vampire lord drew the dagger that was strapped to his hip and twirled it in his hands.

  Nero’s throat tightened as he inhaled sharply. The whip had been painful enough. The dagger would be far, far worse.

  Adrius laughed. “Don’t worry. I don’t intend to use this on you. At least, not right now.” He turned to face Neryssa and pressed the hilt into her palm.

  As her wide eyes met Nero’s, he was certain they shared the same thought: Adrius wouldn’t use the dagger on Nero. He’d make Neryssa do it.

  She’d changed in the time since they’d met Adrius, but her nervous look said she hadn’t signed up for torturing her own brother.

  But then, she’d already stabbed him once, hadn’t she?

  Adrius stepped out of the way so Nero could see his twin clearly in the doorway. The horrifying silence stretched on as they awaited his command.

  Sweat dripped down Nero’s brow and across his aching back. As he shifted his weight, fresh pain shot through his blood-crusted knees.

  Adrius looked finally at Neryssa. “Press the dagger against your own throat. Just hard enough to draw blood, and go no further.”

  Her shaking hand lifted the dagger to her throat and, eyes still wide, she pressed the edge against her skin. She gasped as a trickle of blood dripped from the cut.

  “Leave it there,” Adrius commanded as he began his pacing through the room once more. “Your time in isolation doesn’t seem to have made the proper impression.”

  “Don’t hurt her,” Nero pleaded. “Let her go.”

  Adrius crouched down in front of Nero, his face only inches away. “It would take a single command for her to take her own life. She’s been such a promising addition to my clan. It would be a shame to lose her.”

  “Please, my lord,” she said. Nero couldn’t see past Lord Adrius to get a look at her, but her voice was high-pitched and terrified. “Don’t do this.”

  “Sometimes,” Adrius said with a menacing whisper, “sacrifices have to be made to impart the proper lesson.”

  “Do whatever you’d like to me, but don’t hurt her. I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “I know you will. I can command anything of you I wish. But I can’t command your loyalty. That is my demand— swear fealty to me of your own will, and I will let her go.”

  “I swear it,” Nero said. “Anything.”

  “Convince me that you mean it. Like her life is on the line.”

  Nero bowed his head. “I’m yours, my lord. I swear it. I will do anything you ask of me. I understand my place here.”

  Adrius’ face was an unreadable mask as he considered Nero’s declaration. “Good. You may drop the dagger,” he called over his shoulder.

  It clattered to the floor, and Neryssa gasped once more. She pressed her hand against the cut and turned away.

  Adrius got to his feet and walked back over to Neryssa. He pulled her hand away from her throat and lowered his mouth to her skin. With a single lick, the wound sealed itself.

  “You may rise,” he said to Nero.

  Nero pushed himself up, but his knees buckled under his weight as he rose. He stumbled back to the ground.

  Lord Adrius watched Nero’s repeated attempts to stand in silence.

  “I suppose you’ll be useless for a while,” he said. “I’ll send a human servant up to feed you shortly. Your saliva can heal the rawness of your skin, but by itself it can’t fix all the damage from your time on the ground. Take this week to rest and heal. I’m not heartless, after all.”

  Nero held in a sneer.

  “You’ll report to your duties in a week.”

  “Duties?” Nero asked, frowning.

  “Yes. You’ll be assigned to one of the units outside the castle to help transform this cavern into one of the greatest cities in all of Nymphera.”

  With that, he left, arm wrapped once more around Neryssa’s waist.

  Nero crawled over to the bed, pulling himself with his arms. He didn’t bother to make an attempt to move his legs. Instead, he dragged his knees against the stone floor. He had no interest in using his vampire abilities any more than he had to, even if it meant suffering through the healing process naturally.

  The muscles in his arms strained as he pulled himself up onto the bed. He sank into the soft sheets. Exhaustion coursed through every muscle in his body. The pain in his knees still throbbed with a fierce intensity even now that they’d been relieved from kneeling on the stone floor.

  He closed his eyes, but sleep refused him. He was wholly Adrius’ creature now. He couldn’t stand against him, couldn’t show any defiance. He would have to play his role.

  Nero would never be loyal to the vampire lord, no matter what he’d sworn earlier. But, at least for now, he would do whatever it took to keep himself safe from a monster’s wrath.

  Chapter 11

  It had been months since Nero was turned into a monster, and still he struggled to accept that this was now his life. He was an immortal creature now, something more than human, but that had come at a cost he had never been willing to pay. Life in Caracta had been hard, but at least he’d had his freedom. Here in the vampire lord’s city, Terra Nocturne, he was little more than a slave who could never hope to escape his master.

  Though Nero had never had a job in Caracta and had no experience, he’d been forced to join the laborers who worked to build the city. Most of the other vampires in Adrius’ clan were architects and laborers. They were the first Adrius had turned in order to create his underground vampire city. The others came from places all over Nymphera, from small seaside villages to the industrial city of Opus. There were even a few from the elven capital of Viridi. Like Nero, most of them had been enticed by the money Adrius offered them, not knowing it would be useless to them once they were brought to his city.

  It would take them centuries to fill the cavern with enough buildings to make it into the beautiful city Lord Adrius envisioned. And even centuries later, Nero would be alive to see it done. It was a strange
thing to know that he would live forever.

  For all the years he had left to live, Nero wondered if he would ever see the world outside these cavern walls again. He doubted Adrius would ever trust him to leave. With the mortals who were kept in the dungeons for feedings and trade with the neighboring city of Viridi, the city’s vampires already had everything they needed.

  Food wasn’t much of a concern, since only the mortals held in captivity needed to eat. Nero longed for real food—some meat and potatoes or fresh vegetables, perhaps—but he hadn’t eaten a single thing since becoming a vampire. He’d consumed nothing but the blood he drank a few times a week to stay alive.

  He shuddered. He did his best to avoid thinking about that part.

  He was grateful at least that he’d seen little of Adrius since he’d been given his assignment in the city… though that also meant he hadn’t seen Neryssa much, either. She never left his side, and he only saw her in the palace halls in passing.

  Not that he’d been seeking her out after everything she’d done.

  He sat up in bed and rubbed his temples. Those thoughts never went anywhere good, and he didn’t want to dwell on them any longer. Better to focus on the tedium of everyday life and let the hard labor leave him too exhausted to think.

  After dressing himself, he started down the hall. He’d make it to the building site early, but that suited him just fine.

  The vampire guarding the entrance held up a hand to stop him as he approached.

  “I’m supposed to report for work,” Nero said.

  “Not today,” the guard grunted.

  Nero frowned. “Why not?”

  “All work is canceled for today for the feast.” The voice came from behind him, where the vampire who’d brought Nero food the day he escaped leaned against the wall, crossing his tattooed arms.

  “Oh,” Nero said simply, unsure how else to respond. He’d seen the other vampire at the building sites a few times, but he did his best to avoid him. He generally tried to avoid everyone. Things were easier without having to worry about anyone else.

  “You should go,” the other vampire said.

  “Why would I go to a feast?” Nero asked. “We don’t eat anything but blood.”

  “We don’t need to eat anything. We can eat just fine.”

  Phantom growls rumbled through Nero’s stomach. He hadn’t felt hunger in a long time, but just thinking about eating real food brought back the aching memory of hunger.

  “You should go,” the vampire continued. “It’s not often we get to enjoy real food.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Nero said.

  The vampire uncrossed his arms and put a hand on Nero’s shoulder. “Look, kid. Don’t isolate yourself. That’s the worst thing you can do here. I’m Davon, by the way.”

  “Nero.” He shook Davon’s outstretched hand. “I thought you’d be angry with me for getting you in trouble.”

  Davon shrugged. “Yeah, I was for a while after I got punished for letting you escape. I could be an asshole about it, but that doesn’t help anyone. We’re all stuck down here together. I’m sure you’re still mourning whatever life you lost. No one should have to go through that alone. If you make it tonight, you can come find me, if you want.”

  Once he was gone, Nero started back up toward his room. It was easy to forget that, though his clan brethren were all vampires, they had once been ordinary people who’d been stolen from their lives and forced into a life they’d never asked for. Just like him.

  If he allowed himself to befriend them, would that be giving in? Would it mean accepting that he was one of them now?

  When he returned to his room, he lay in bed, plagued with indecision as the hours passed. He didn’t have to go. It would probably be better if he didn’t pretend that everything was fine.

  But the thought of real food was too tempting. If this was a rare treat, he couldn’t let himself miss it.

  When he finally made his way back down to the banquet hall, it had been transformed. The usually open space was now filled with tables, all dressed in fine linens and gleaming golden plates. It might have even been a beautiful sight if not for the haunting sounds of moaning throughout the hall.

  In a line down the center of the room, twelve mortals hung upside-down from the ceiling, each dangling over a wide basin. The unlucky ones who were still conscious cried for help that would never come.

  The sight of them strung up that way was sickening. He couldn’t imagine enjoying a meal while people were suffering only a few feet away, with their cries creating the background melody for the feast. He could do nothing to help them. He wanted to return to his own room, away from the misery of this banquet.

  At the head of the room, Neryssa sat next to Adrius. As she looked out over the room with cold disinterest, she seemed so poised at his side, like being a graceful courtier had always been her calling. If she noticed Nero, she ignored him entirely.

  Perhaps he could stay, just for a short time. There was nothing stopping him from leaving later if it became too much.

  He took a seat at an empty table in the furthest corner, as far as he could get from the rest of the vampires in attendance. No food had been served yet, but each place at the table was set with plates and silverware, along with golden goblets inlaid with black gems. He ran his fingertips along the smooth rim and watched as more vampires entered the dining hall. There were far more seats than there were vampires, and Nero was grateful that the others left his table empty. Davon had taken a seat at the opposite end of the room, and Nero sank back in his chair to avoid catching his eye.

  Mortal servants cowered against the walls, heads down. As always, they stayed silent unless spoken to in order to avoid catching anyone’s notice. One behind Nero’s table was an elven woman with blonde hair. He’d passed her by in the hallways a few times before, but she never stayed still enough for him to get a good look at her. Her hip bones poked out beneath a torn shirt that exposed her midriff, too skinny from being underfed. Her arms were lanky and lacked any sort of muscle definition. In that regard, she looked like all the rest. But there was something hauntingly beautiful about her wide, almond eyes and full lips, and Nero wondered how she’d looked before being brought here. How she might look again if she was given the chance to thrive.

  A soft bell rang, and the mortal servants moved as one toward a door that led out of the hallway. As the elven woman passed by his table, Nero grabbed her wrist. Though he’d reached out as gently as he could, she flinched at his touch. Those soft eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but at him. He could smell the change in her, the sweet rush of fear as her heart pumped her blood faster through her body.

  He released her, disgusted once again by himself and what he was. Why should she be anything other than terrified of him?

  Now free of his grasp, she looked up to meet his eyes between thin strands of hair. “Y-yes?”

  “I just…” What did he want? He must have grabbed her for a reason, but he couldn’t recall what it was. “I thought you might want to sit with me a moment.”

  Her eyes flitted to the chair next to him, then back to his. She frowned, and a confused look passed across her face. “I’m not supposed to sit. I have duties,” she said.

  “No one’s paying attention to you back here. We’re alone.”

  That idea seemed to give her little comfort. “Why?”

  Nero pushed out the chair next to him and gestured to it. “I won’t touch you again. I promise. I just want to talk with someone who’s not… one of them.”

  “A vampire?” she asked, and for the first time, her curiosity seemed to outweigh her fear. “Are you not one of them?”

  Inside his closed mouth, he ran his tongue along the tips of his fangs as he considered that. “Not by choice.”

  She took a nervous step toward him. “But you are.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why would I want to sit with you?” she asked. Her voice shook a little less, and her body
straightened up. He got a glimpse of who she might have once been, how she might have carried herself.

  “Because from what I understand, this table is about to be filled with all sorts of delicious food, and I’d like to share some with you.”

  Her brows rose. “I don’t think I’m allowed—”

  “The first day I was allowed to roam the palace freely, I was told to do what I pleased with the mortals. It’s supposed to be a perk of being… one of us.” He scoffed. “Other than the blood I’m forced to drink to live, I haven’t touched anyone.”

  She shrank away again.

  Nero sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. “What I mean to say is that I have no interest in hurting you, or anyone else. All I want is to let you fill your belly, even if it’s just one night. If anyone comes by our table, I’ll use that… perk… to take responsibility for you.”

  “What’s in it for you?” she asked, still uncertain but finally willing to consider his offer.

  “One less mark on my stained conscience, I suppose.”

  She took slow, careful steps toward him, then lowered herself into the seat. She tucked her blonde curls behind her ear and looked around the room, as though waiting for someone to jump out and drag her away.

  None came.

  “What’s your name?” Nero asked.

  “Vara.”

  “I’m Nero.”

  The rest of the mortals returned with tray upon tray of meats and stews, cheeses and fruits. The ones who came to Nero’s table gave Vara worried looks, but they didn’t dare say anything to Nero. He wished he could have them all sit with him to enjoy the feast, but he supposed that would be pushing his luck.

  “Help yourself,” Nero said as he loaded his plate with some of everything in front of him.

  Vara hesitated. “If I take this food, I could lose a hand.”

  “You’re not going to lose a hand,” Nero said.

  “That’s easy for you to say, being what you are.” She raised her right hand. Only a tiny stump remained where her little finger had once been. “I stole a biscuit at the last feast. They said it would be my whole hand the next time.”