Page 10 of Blood & Bedlam

My brows knit together in confusion. “How? How did he do it?” I demand, but she just smooths a stray lock of my hair behind my ear and gives me a reassuring smile.

“In due time, I’ll explain. Tell me what happened first,” she coaxes gently. “Just start slowly.”

I want to tell her to go fuck herself. My heart beats heavily against my chest as I steel myself to do just that, but when I open my mouth, the truth comes instead.

“It happened so fast. One minute, we were just having a good time. I wasn’t paying much attention to who Makenna was talking to, but when I noticed her voice changed, I looked up and these dudes were around us. They made my skin crawl.” I sniff. Juliette waits. “I thought they had spiked her drink. She sounded off, like … far away? She’s—was—so tiny, it wouldn’t take much. I tried to get us out of there. I was firm and assertive.” I punch my fist into my flattened palm, eyes stinging with tears, intense in my protest. “I did everything right. I work in a bar on Bourbon for fuck’s sake, I know how to handle myself. But then he just …” My throat catches, the memory of his touch like ice down my spine. “He was there, and his hand was on me, and then it was like I was stuck? I could see everything h-happening through my eyes, but my body wasn’t responding to me. It was like I was a puppet and he h-had the strings.” A fresh wave of tears wells up behind my eyes from the memory, from the ghost of the fear. My hands start to shake in earnest as a tidal wave of emotion rises higher, pushing the panic back to the surface with a vengeance.

“Take a breath,” Juliette offers sympathetically.

I nod rapidly, letting my eyes sink closed for just a moment, but all I see in the darkness are his glowing red eyes, tongue lapping up blood that leaked from the scratch on my arm, the laughter as Makenna’s blood dripped down his friend’s chin.

The thud her body made as it crashed to the floorboard between our feet. Her dead-eyed, open stare as he made me watch that monster murder my best friend.

“It feels like he’s inside my skin. He was … how did he do that? He just made me watch while h-he—” My voice breaks, air arresting my lungs. I feel like I’m choking on it, feel like the world is spinning. I’m right back in that car, hearing them talk about what they’re about to do to us. I shake my head, hoping to knock back the pain and panic I felt as he sank his teeth into me, how he relished in my silent screams, laughing as though he could hear them while my body stayed frozen. I gulp for air, but I can’t breathe. I can’t—

I stumble up. I need out. I need air. Juliette is on her feet in a flash, so fast it makes me jump back in terror.

“I’m losing my mind. This can’t be real. Shit!” I cry, dropping down to the floor, tucking my head between my knees. My lungs scream for air that doesn’t come, no matter how hard I try to find it. There’s a commotion, and hands pressing against my cheeks, pulling my gaze up as tears leak down my face.

“Look at me. Look at me, Reine. He is not here. He is not going to hurt you ever again,” she promises, but I can’t get myself under control. I claw at the corset bound too tightly around my body, nails clicking against the beads and fake gems that fall to the floor like blood, spilled blood, my blood …

Juliette pulls me closer, grabbing the front of my corset dress, wrenching with her bare hands. The stiff boning rips with a loud tear, the pressure releasing against my chest. I cry out in relief. Her arms come around me, whispering soothing placations in French as I ruin the fabric of her dress with smeared makeup and sobs, but I can’t think about not being able to replace what I know must be real contour.

Juliette turns and shouts something over her shoulder, alternating between French and English as all the grief and terror I’d felt but hadn’t been able to express earlier comes pouring out. The only thing keeping me together is the press of Juliette’s chest to mine, her arms around me as I shake.

There are footsteps, more whispers in a language I don’t understand, and then fingers under my chin, pulling me up. I look into the face of another stunning woman with short, slicked brown hair and startling green eyes with that same intense ring around the edges.

“Sleep,” she commands, her voice washing over me in a gentle vibrato that feels like a warm blanket wrapping me up. My body goes slack, eyes shuttering instantly as darkness consumes me.

Vladimir

CHAPTER 5

“I need you to explain to me like I’m a newborn what the hells you were thinking.” Fleur stands in front of me, hands on her hips, staring me down without flinching. I loosen my tie, soaked in the dried blood of the Italian and other blood that smells sweeter, nearly divine.

Mina’s blood.

I card my fingers through my hair, scraping my nails over my scalp as I buy some time, but her scent is all over me, intoxicating enough that my fangs descend and I’m practically fucking salivating to get back to her.

“We don’t keep secrets in this house. That’s your rule,” Claire presses, tucked possessively into the side of Drake, his massive body a shield around hers. His fingers stroke her shoulder soothingly.

“He broke the law. It couldn’t go unanswered,” I deflect, folding my arms across my chest as my senses strain to hear soft voices from across the Manor, homing in on the vibration of hers and Juliette’s through it all.

“Merde,” Cami spits, angrily. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“You don’t lose control, Papa. Ever. Who is she, and why did you cause an international incident to protect her?” Claire disentangles from Drake’s grip, and I can see it costs him everything to let her go. He’s large, emboldened by the Blood, but she’s a generation older and could tear him apart if she wanted. His protective instinct rallies the farther she moves from him, nonetheless.

“Could I have a moment with my daughters?” I ask through strained breaths, inclining my head to the Third of the Blood in the room. Juliette’s partners—Dasher and Serena—exchange heavy glances next to Fleur. A muscle tightens in my jaw as Drake’s mouth opens to protest. I cock my head subtly, eyes narrowing at his challenge.

“It’s fine,” Claire soothes. I see the want to rebuke her words flash in his eyes, but he knows better than to question her.

Good.

Quietly, the three of them move until the door is closed tightly and I’m left alone with three of my girls. The silence stretches between us, every howl of the wind outside a death rattle inside the creaking wood of the Manor. I have to tell them, but I don’t know where to even start. Don’t know that I can make my mind temper long enough to get it all out. They wait.

And wait.

And once I part my lips to speak, it all comes tumbling out in a wave of pain and longing I’ve tried so hard to keep at bay.