House of Secrets and Vows (Crown of Deceit #1)

36. A Deer to a Wolf

36

A DEER TO A WOLF

T he urge to dive into the room below overwhelms me as a metallic tang flows through my nostrils into my lungs.

Fuck.

The blood calls to me like an injured deer to a wolf.

I’d thought we were going to another ball and all I needed to worry about was a boring night of dancing. After drinking from the elderly woman to save Euris, my self-control is as thin as the treaty between Valazica and Solendale.

Which isn’t promising.

With an exhale, I lean away from the edge and will my thoughts to shift to anything but the scent of blood.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Mavet gleaming.

This is exactly what the Blood King wants, the bastard. Is it merely a test or does he hope I will cave to the need for blood so that he can kill me?

Another wave of desire smolders inside me, and I brush my tongue over my now-pointed teeth.

Zariah's thumb runs up and down my bicep in slow, consistent brushes. I close my eyes and focus on the comfort of her touch.

Mavet says something, but I'm too deep in the yearning for blood to understand his words. As I take slow, deep breaths, my now-racing heart calms, and my attention settles on the conversation around me.

Zariah leans across me and speaks to Mavet. "You mentioned your brother when we were dancing last night. Would he approve of this celebration?"

"No, my brother would be just as horrified as you."

Mavet discussed his brother with Zariah?

When Zariah and I returned to our room last night, we’d been so busy bickering about all of my mistakes that I hadn’t thought to ask her the specifics of what the Blood King wanted when he asked her to dance.

The more I think about it, I still am not sure what Mavet’s end game is. Wanting an alliance with the crown makes sense, but why continue to push my bloodlust? What purpose would my losing control serve?

And the more I think about it, the stranger it is that the Blood King never mentioned my ability to walk in the sun as being rare.

Another whiff of blood snaps my attention back to the arena below.

The man who killed the two helpless women has worked his way around the outside of the room and disappeared behind a large wooden box as Euris, the man I saved, fights another competitor in the center of the room.

Euris holds out two daggers while his opponent extends a long sword. It’s clear that neither knows how to properly hold their weapons, let alone use them.

With a scream, they sprint at each other, each shrieking as their blades strike. The fight is sloppy, and the other man is the first to lay a blow, slicing through Euris’s shoulder.

Euris winces, but as his opponent gloats, he chucks one of his daggers straight through the other man's neck.

Unlike the clean cuts of the sisters' wounds, when Euris tugs the dagger from the other man's throat, blood gushes. The deep crimson puddle spreads across the ground, reflecting the dim light of the chandeliers hovering above.

The need to drink bursts within me, and I push to my feet.

Zariah's hand grabs mine and yanks, but I resist her pull.

A lake of blood surrounds the now-dead man, red and tempting.

I inhale its glorious metallic scent.

Another tug at my hand distracts me, and I glance down to find Zariah speaking to me.

"You need to sit." Her tone is steady and calm, but panic fills her eyes. "Sit. Down. Now ."

I swallow the lump of desire and follow her request, but my throat is on fire, burning as if I were stranded in a desert, desperate for water.

Soon, pain explodes in my lungs. The blood calls my name, urging me to come lap it from the ground like some fucking animal.

"He needs to drink," a voice says.

Mavet answers, "I'm afraid this is a wine-only event. There’s no blood provided."

"And you didn't think to warn him?" I recognize the voice as Tatiyana's now. When I pry my gaze from the blood, I see her sitting on the edge of her seat, glaring at Mavet.

"My apologies, Princeling."

Zariah’s hand moves from my bicep to my thigh, supporting her weight as she leans around me. "You set him up on purpose, you bastard."

"You can’t blame me for the Princeling's inability to control his own urges. Perhaps if he'd stuck around the House of Blood, he'd be better equipped to fight his deep, deep desire for blood."

Even with the haze billowing in my mind, I know Mavet is taunting me. And there’s a part of me that knows he isn't wrong. I’ve spent so long fighting what I’ve become, I haven't learned how to exist in my new body.

And perhaps by allowing myself to face the new, dark side of myself I could learn control, or some semblance of it at least.

Or my new dark side, desperate for blood, might swallow me whole.

The clinking of steel draws my attention again as two different men exchange blows with a sword. For a moment, I’m distracted as they fight, but as soon as one man pushes his sword through the other's gut, my bloodlust returns with a vengeance.

Tatiyana moves in front of me and blocks my view of the room below. "You must ignore it."

I clench my fists and lean to the side to see around her, but she shifts to keep me from watching the scene below.

Hunger gnaws at my stomach as my body urges me to give in. "I don't think I can hold out much longer."

The beat of all the human heartbeats in the room rings in my ears.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

My mouth salivates.

Thump.

Thump.

I lick my lips, unable to think of anything but the scent of blood.

Zariah extends her arm in front of me. "Drink."

"What?" I lean my head back. "No, I can't."

Tatiyana nods at Zariah and then meets my gaze. "It will be easier to control yourself if you're fed."

Zariah wiggles her arm. "Do it."

“I—” I’m about to refuse, but her pulse captures my attention, and I can’t think of anything except how delicious she would taste.

She brings her wrist closer to my mouth. "I trust you."

As I grip her forearm, I lick my lips in anticipation.

I swallow a mouthful of saliva and, slowly, guide my mouth to the vein running from the base of her hand.

She smells so fucking delectable, like freshly picked flowers and the ripest of citrus.

When I sink my teeth through her flesh, I’m met with the savory warmth of her blood. I close my eyes and let them roll to the back of my head as I gulp the precious liquid, my heartbeat speeding up to match hers.

I’ve never tasted anything so intoxicating, and my grip on her arm tightens as a rush of pleasure courses through me, mingling with a hint of guilt for the line I’ve just crossed.

But as I continue to drink, the guilt fades away and is replaced by an insatiable craving, a need so deep it twines with my soul. My fangs dig deeper into her skin, drawing more blood with each guzzle.

Mavet says something beside me, but I ignore it.

Fuck. She tastes even better than I’d thought she would. There’s nothing else in the world besides me and the priestess as the wolf in me drowns in bliss.

The tiniest of voices in my head warns me of what will happen if I don’t quit, but a darker, wicked voice reminds me of what the priestess has done to me.

How she drugged me and was willing to kill me while I was asleep.

Not only that, but she knows exactly what I am, which makes her a threat.

The tiny voice pleads, but the louder voice blocks it out.

“Ouch. You’re hurting me," Zariah says, but I ignore her, feeding as blood drips down my chin.