A Violet Fire (Vampires in Avignon #1) - Kelsey Quick Page 0,14

male vampire from the holding cells, Narref. That short time ago already feels like an eternity.

As told, I step forward and ready myself in the offering position. I outstretch my arms, crossing one wrist over the other, and present them underside up. While doing this, I dip my head even lower—in accordance with many past practices—to signify subjugation. Usually this stance would cause me to clam up with bitterness, but right now everything is numb, minus the looming anxiety. This degrading stance is a symbol of my pathetic life. Something that I would be expected to do for the rest of it if I somehow make it past this day.

“Dorm mothers please step back, and Messima... the kortrastet, please,” Narref instructs, and the two, foul grips on my arms instantly release. The clack-clack-clack of Mettingskew’s basten-skinned heels plod down nearby stairs. A secret hope that she trips and face plants shamelessly crosses my thoughts.

Soon, Narref is beside me. The glinting, carved piece of metal he now holds catches my eye. The kortrastet. An intricately designed needle, secured to a plastic siphon, leading up to what is usually an empty blood pack, but today, it’s a goblet.

Narref reaches out and grabs my arm with a hot towel, serving as a buffer between his skin and mine. I have half a mind to make my move now and slap him, spit in his face, put on the show that they all would love to see before I get sentenced. However, I’m genuinely curious as to what Zein will think of my blood, and to be truthful, I’m just not ready.

Narref skillfully injects the large needle into my arm, a sharp pinch followed by an especially cold and numbing sensation. I blink away the discomfort and wait, watching peripherally as the dark red liquid drips into the goblet. The sound of it sloshing as it spills is enough to make me queasy.

As quick as it began, it stops. Narref leaves me with a thin arument bandage and walks out of my lowered line of sight, his footsteps ascending the stairs, growing fainter until they stop.

“My lord, your unit’s blood...,” he says out of offering. My heart lurches. Narref is speaking to Zein.

For yet another moment, nothing but ringing silence. An endless moment of pins and needles, until a regal and nostalgic voice commands the attention of the auditorium.

“Ah, how surprising, this one’s blood...”

My eyes widen as the deep and ominous notes that illustrate his voice permeate the air. A sound characterized by cordial, rich, and vibrant malice. It’s the voice of the only vampire that has ever called me by my given name. My body shakes near uncontrollably.

“Quite the troublemaker, wasn’t she? Is this the one that I kept getting reports about, Gemini?”

Another masculine voice pipes up, “Uh... Tch, tch, yes. Two, nine, seven, three... four? Ah, yes, she has had two reports in the past, and then the uh… the escape attempt yesterday, my lord.”

My shaking becomes even more violent as judgmental chatter rings about the room, revealing that there are so many more spectators than what I thought. However, the noise eventually dies down enough to make things even more uncomfortable. So many eyes are on me; probably all of them—Zein’s included.

“Surely you can’t be thinking about keeping her?” a noble female voice penetrates the mindless talk. “I know you don’t believe in wastefulness, Anton, but the greater waste here would be your mercy.”

I bite my lip to stifle a snide response.

Zein’s chuckle ignites the heavy air. “Thank you for your sentiment, Marina, but I can decide for myself.” A moment of pause lingers until he speaks again. “You see, this blood is definitely of the better that I have tasted, this evening. It’s rich and austere. One of a kind.”

My heartbeat quickens. He can’t be serious. My blood should be the foulest thing to ever touch his lips.

“But, I also cannot simply discount the inane will of its owner…,” he trails off. “You, look up at me.”

His voice ricochets across the room and it takes me a second to realize that he’s talking to me. My heart lunges into my throat. Do the leaders normally ask their supply units to do that? I was taught to never look my owner in the eye… would this count? Amidst my doubt, I do my best to swallow my heart back down into its proper place as I raise my head.

The first things I notice are identical stair-stepped rows, each landing is the