speaks as Cutter roars, biting into the heart and ripping off a chunk that he chews and swallows.
Disgust and horror root me where I stand.
Cutter glares hard at the rest of us, holding up what’s left of Maria’s heart. “This is what happens to those who dare attack me. Remember it. And do not make the same mistake as your friend.”
14
My blood runs cold at the sight of Maria's half-eaten heart clutched in Cutter's hand.
She lies at his feet, a tangle of limbs, her gray-streaked hair flared out behind her like a mermaid underwater, a macabre kind of beauty.
I turn away and vomit, emptying the fancy food and drink I filled my stomach with onto the marble floor. Dean and Declan flank me, both shifting into wolf form as Dr. Livingstone materializes beside me. He slips his arm around my waist, steadying me.
The band has disappeared, the room falling silent in the horror of it all. I glance to Nurse Schmidt who looks a bit green as she steadies herself by a table, the lustrousness of the ballroom fading as she loses control of her illusion magic.
Tables previously laden with delicious food are now covered in rot, flies buzzing above them. The lustrous decorations are now replaced with cobwebs and grime.
A rancid taste replaces the sweet fizz of the champagne in my mouth as the shiny veneer of this evening of lies slips off, revealing the ugly truth beneath.
I grip the doctor’s arm, my nails digging into his flesh as I steel myself against my own impotent rage.
"Careful," he whispers.
I look up and see his teeth sharpened and ready, his eyes hard and deadly, and I wonder if he's talking to me, or himself.
On either side of me, Dean and Declan bare their teeth, growls rising from their chests as other werewolves in the room shift and the vampires are overtaken with bloodlust at the sight of Maria.
Blood drips from Cutter's mouth and he smiles, revealing teeth tinged in red, daring any one of us to make a move against him.
I feel my own magic rise up inside me, pulsing with a throbbing ache that only worsens the longer I ignore it. Sparks dance on my fingertips and Dean nudges my hand, his furry form absorbing some of the pent-up power in me begging for release.
Around us, ghosts flicker in, their voices amplifying in a horrified cacophony of screams as they collectively clutch at their own chests.
He steals he takes he eats us alive.
Behave.
Behave.
Doesn't matter.
Disobey and pay.
Obey and die.
My breathing is labored as I try to resist the pull of my magic and deny myself the god-awful need to punish the man who stands before us, gloating in his own evil narcissism.
Nurse Schmidt and Sir seem to recover first and begin escorting people from the room rapidly.
Cutter laughs and takes another bite of Maria's heart. My stomach roils at the sight of it.
I envision all the things I want to do to him right now, but I cannot act on any of it, not without condemning myself, my sister, and the men I care about to certain death.
As he consumes what's left of the heart, Cutter's body shudders, and power rips through him, stretching his muscles and bones until he seems to loom taller and larger than ever before. His eyes glow red for a flash before fading back to their normal gray. I blink, thinking maybe I imagined what I just saw. He seems normal now, but I know he's not.
Within him, something is growing.
Something dark and powerful.
Something I will have to stop before all of this is over.
Dr. Livingstone grips my arm so hard I expect a bruise by tomorrow, but I'm not upset. Not at that. He's barely hanging onto his own control, just as I am.
"We need to get out of here," I say, tugging at his hand, while my other drops to the wolves by my side.
I spare one more glance at Maria before turning sharply on my heel and forcing myself to walk out of the hall, two wolves and a pissed off vampire at my side.
We head straight to my room, Dr. Livingstone joining us, closing the door solidly behind himself once the four of us are all safely within.
"I can't stay long," the doctor says, his fangs still prominent. "I have to feed." He glances away, ashamed of his urges.
"How?" I ask. It's something I've wondered about for some time.
"There are blood bags," he says, but I can tell by the tone