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“However, he still desired to have a bloodline. Humans were far too mundane for him, too easily conquerable. They could not sate his bloodthirst. So, with his blood and energy and lifeforce, Malachor created the Blood Crest altar...”
I lick my lips as Bartie forms the image of the altar I laid upon the previous night. But my stomach rots as he reveals what Malachor did upon that altar. My chest squeezes from the feminine screams echoing from the flames.
“For a good century, Malachor used human women as vessels for his born vampire children. Many did not survive the forced implantation, much less impregnation. And others did not carry vampires. Malachor did not allow breeders or offspring to live unless they bore his full bloodline.” I flinch at the flaming sight of Malachor killing the failures. “After many trials and errors, he finally found some success. Forced incest breeding carried on the born vampire line, though our alchemy acts in differentrespects than humans. To preserve our born bloodline, incest is not as taboo as it is for humans.”
I nod softly, quietly because this territory is strange and new to me. My other arm snakes around my front to hold my aching insides together as I listen.
“I was one of the second-round “successes” of Malachor’s line, My Lady. The human vessel he used was a fire-binder, of course. My mother...she happened to be one of the survivors. But she was never quite the same after my birth.”
I don’t ask why he referenced himself as “success”. Despite my curiosity, I lean against him, pressing my cheek against his arm as Bartie kindles the illusion of a woman with flaming red hair. “She’s beautiful.”
“Yes, she was.” He squeezes my hand again. “Malachor used her multiple times. For many years, she was a suitable breeder. But he killed most of my siblings, my Lady. Sometimes, he let the half-offsprings live...for pure sport. I am one of those half-offsprings.”
I glance up at him. “So, you’re not a full?—”
“I am not.” He shakes his head. “Merely one of those he allowed to live for some time...on account of sport.”
The rot spreads in my stomach, eating away at the lining as I listen, feeling acid scalding my throat. “Sport as in...?”
“Malachor preferred all manner of sport. Arena battles. Public ritualistic sacrifice. Gang rape. Torture. If blood was involved, he loved it...and fed upon it. During all this time, Malachor simply bit humans or other vampires to feed, to drink, or drain. Never to turn. And we may never have the full story of what happened, but legend follows that Malachor was betrayed. He was given a sleep potion from the waters that fed the very Tree of Life. And as he slept, the traitor took his blood and even his fangs.”
My jaw drops as he finishes this part of the illustration. My very nerves shiver at the revelation of Merikh’s origins since I know he’s a bitten vampire.
Bartie flicks his hand to show a great serpent of blue fire rising from the ocean. “And with the venom of a water serpent from the Sea of Bones, the traitor turned themselves into a bitten vampire. We truly do not know who the origin is, my Lady, and for rightful reasons. The bitten vampire never revealed his or herself. All we know is they were quite busy biting as many humans as they could to further the race.
“All were rejected when they tried to join Malachor’s Court of Blood. Many, he took as captives. The rest escaped to the swamp world above the Court and formed their own society.”
I lick my lips, nodding before lowering my chin to the floor. “Merikh was a captive.”
“Merikh was a blood slave, my Lady. He was once a water-binder. The most common and mundane of all binders as water exists in every realm and what every being requires to live.” He swirls his flames to create a liquid fire illustration, demonstrating water.
“After he was caught stealing a prized blood jewel from Malachor’s collection, he was taken as a plaything by the god.” My blood grows cold. “Merikh was simply one of Malachor’s favorites. And he survived by growing to become his ultimate favorite.”
I squeeze my eyes, battling tears at the thought of what Merikh’s life must have been like. It’s not pity. It’s empathy. It’s love. And wanting to wrap myself in his darkness and share it with him—something I don’t deserve, something I won’t press.
“I will not tell you much more, Lady Quintessa. “ He rubs the back of my hand, his voice softening to comfort. “Those were dark times for him, many dark days. All I will say is that Malachor’s territorial jealousy and envy were renowned. Despitehow he loathed bitten vampires, he still wanted to prove he could turn anyone. He simply did it slow...as a means of torture. Merikh was the only human Malachor ever turned who didn’t simply retain his water binding. Like the common thief he was, Merikh’s alchemy also assumed the god’s essence and therefore, his power.
“But by then, Merikh was such a favorite of Malachor’s, the God of Blood did not wish to destroy him. Instead, he made Merikh his masterpiece.”
I tremble, my mind whirling with the infinite possibilities. The scars all over Merikh’s body testify to that dark past. The way he keeps to the shadows. His sadism that needs no alter ego like Kyan and Drago. The times where he slips into his tortured past.
A sudden realization sends horror to curdle my blood and seems to sever my very nerves, turning me number than ever. “Bartie...” I hardly whisper, and the steward stiffens and touches my shoulder.
“My Lady...I apologize if I said anyth?—”
“It’s not that.” I shake my head and whimper while swiping at my tears. “I...I’m a blood binder. That must mean...”
A long and heavy sigh eases from his chest, and the hand on my shoulder wraps around me in a caring embrace. “Yes, my Lady. All blood-binders, human or vampire, are descendants of Malachor. So far removed from his lineage, they hold only a fraction of his power. But yes, Lady Quintessa. You are correct.”
I unravel, my very knees weakening. “No wonder he hates me so much.”
Bartie’s grip upon me strengthens, and he turns my body to him, lifting my chin to his eyes. “My Lady, nothing could be further from the truth. I have known that boy ever since he was a mortal whelp, even before the day he was caught.
“Rest assured, you are no mere prey to be possessed by our Lord of Blood. Never in the history of our Court has a human Queen existed. Nor has the Blood Crest altar ever accepted one. The vessel chose not to smite you. And Merikh had such unwavering belief that he took the risk.”
All of me freezes. “What the fuck are you talking about?!”
15
