Blood Debt (Kingdom of Blood #1) - Callie Rose Page 0,75

from all sides, jockeying for position around me. My stomach drops as I realize they’re going to tear me apart. I’ve seen the aftermath of that, once. There wasn’t much left but a zipper, some hair, and a couple fingernails. Everything else had either been eaten or torn small and spread thin. The gore covered an alley from one end of the block to the other, up both sides to the rooftops. A rat ran over my foot with an eyeball in its mouth.

Bile rises in my throat at the memory, but I swallow it down and keep my eyes steady on Bastian’s.

The feral, animalistic growls all around me grow louder as the vamps creep closer. They’re breathing on me, licking my skin at my pulse, teasing me. They want me broken with terror before they get rid of me. They won’t get the satisfaction. I swear to god, they won’t.

“What? No begging? No remorse?” Lizbeth sounds offended.

At some unseen signal, the vampires fall back half a step. I turn my gaze from Bastian to the too-young looking vampire and smile at her. She doesn’t like that, which makes me smile wider.

“Beg? For what? A chance to be somebody’s helpless pet?” I spit the last word, and she wrinkles her nose. I won’t even bother addressing her “remorse” comment. I have nothing to feel guilty about except my failure to protect Nathan.

Lizbeth’s gaze darts from my face to the faces of the tributes standing unobtrusively against one wall, and then to the vampires gathered around me. I can feel their fierce attention, their hunger, held back only by the command of the vampire court stationed at the table.

She scowls and raises her hand. She’s going to signal them to attack. Bastian won’t stop them, I know he won’t. I don’t see Rome or Connor in the crowd, and I can’t decide if I’m glad or sad about that. I think it might break my heart to see them turn their backs on me too.

“Stop,” Tyresius says suddenly.

I blink at the ancient looking vampire, shocked out of my fear for a moment. Lizbeth turns to face him, looking as surprised as I feel.

“I beg your pardon?” she hisses.

“I don’t like beggars.” Tyresius scowls at me. “But I prefer them to martyrs.”

He nods toward the tributes in the audience, then shakes his head. I follow his gaze, my heart constricting. Fuck, I didn’t realize any humans had entered the room. It’s definitely not all of the tributes, just some, and they’re cowering in a tight group watching everything play out before them. I don’t see Jessica, thank fuck, but I do see Winona. She’s white as a damn sheet.

“So? What do you suggest?” one of the other Elders asks.

Tyresius is quiet for a long moment, then he smiles. It’s not a pleasant smile.

“The hunter will become the hunted,” he says softly, like he’s quoting from somewhere. “There is only one fate worse than death for a vampire hunter, and that is to become the thing they hunt. If we turn her, she will be forced to become the thing she despises. What she won’t do is become a figurehead for the slaves, a martyr for them to rally around.”

“We don’t call them slaves anymore,” the man beside Tyresius murmurs to him.

“Perhaps that’s the problem,” Tyresius grumbles. “No sense of propriety anymore. I won’t argue any longer. Turn her.”

“No!” A harsh, panicked voice rises up from the back of the room, and I whip my head around in time to see Connor run into the council chambers.

My heart feels like it might collapse in on itself as joy and anguish mix within me at the sight of him. Connor. Sweet, sweet, too-human Connor.

“That’s not fair.” He shakes his head, his face stricken. “You can't do that to her!”

“Silence!” Tyresius barks.

It’s not a request, it’s an order—one that’s carried out by the guards who pull Connor back through the crowd and out of my sight, muffling his cries for justice as they drag him from the room. The fact that he still believes in justice in these vampire-infested halls hurts my heart, and I swallow hard.

He stood up for me, even though he must know by now that I’m a vampire hunter. Even though I betrayed him too, he tried to help me. But he failed, and as I’m dragged toward the Elders’ table, I pray to god they won’t kill him for trying.

I don’t think Rome is even here. Maybe he snuck off