Primal Kill (The Order of Vampires #5)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

J uniper stared at the mirror, hardly recognizing the reflection of her naked body. Fading bruises marked her wrists and jaw. Her concave stomach pulled her flesh tight against her ribs, making her breasts appear larger than she remembered them being.

She was a mixture of femininity and utter neglect. No longer the body of a teenager—nor the mind—but a woman who had seen far too much for a young adult.

She was breakable but not broken.

Not yet, anyway.

Recollections scraped through her mind, wearing her down like the grind of brittle bone over a raw nerve. She’d blindly endured every insufferable moment in that cell and could still feel her fear whenever she closed her eyes.

The fear was the worst of it. At least when it was happening, she knew what she was getting. When they tortured her, when he rutted into her and bit into her flesh, she at least knew it would soon be over. Those physical pains were somehow easier than the mental waiting game of wondering what horrible thing she’d suffer next.

She wanted her revenge. Not just on him. On all of them.

These emotional scars would never heal.

They were monsters.

The life she’d lived before vampires came into her life shimmered like a forgotten delusion in her mind, too thin to fully picture and too foreign to find. Her sanity started to crumble after only a few months in that dungeon, and once her mind started playing tricks on her, she lost track of what was real and what was not.

Weeks of darkness. Days on end of having her arms tied. During those silent hours with no end in sight, she existed only in her terrified mind, meeting parts of herself she didn’t know, parts that scared her. But she found comfort in the fury.

They forced her to face the truth.

She was no one special.

Nothing. Not his. Not anyone’s. And that awareness killed the fear until there was nothing left.

Just Juniper.

Who?

Her head twitched as she tried to recognize the girl in the mirror. This was who she was now. Nothing but a vessel of secrets, a cluster of riddles even she couldn’t fully understand.

She owned no part of herself in that hell. But she could reclaim herself now. She was finally free. Far, far away, and able to start over.

Was there enough left to somehow be reborn? Facing the actuality of all she’d survived made it harder to believe she possessed the strength to go on. She’d been a kid when they caught her, but now she was a woman. She knew firsthand all the horrors women didn’t say, the things they shoved down in polite society and cried about in private.

Those memories were only air. They could not break her, not as long as she forced them to serve her in some way. She would use that pain and anger to make herself whole again. She had to, because the only other option was giving up.

Her fingers traced her collarbone, where a bruise marred the skin. Shadows of a puncture wound lingered just above her pulse. One blink, and she could feel him on her. One blink was all she could afford.

Forcing herself to look at her body and see what she’d become, she counted every rib. She was still in there. Ten fingers. Ten toes. One mouth. Two eyes.

She touched her lips and turned her cheek to see the bruise from where the bridle had cut into her jaw. Scratches and knicks ticked across her skin like little tallies—of what crime, she couldn’t be sure. There had been too many to count .

After dozens of visits and countless inquisitions, she’d lost all hope of ever seeing the light of day again. As her optimism deteriorated in that cell, her sanity frayed.

She shivered as the memory of his voice teased through her mind. Though he rarely spoke, when he did say something, it had the effect of snakes on her skin. She’d been helpless, forced to let his words crawl over her as he helped himself to her body.

On the rare evenings when he wouldn’t visit, her fragile sanity shattered. Those quiet nights were somehow worse. The waiting in fear burned her out, so much so that she was sometimes relieved to hear him unlocking her cell. At least then she knew it would soon be over and she could sleep.

Looking down at her dirty skin, she wondered how long it might take to actually feel clean again. After such an ordeal, could any woman truly live long enough to truly find out?

Some filth lasted longer than tattoos.

The faucet squeaked as water rushed into the tub. Steam billowed upward. She let the hot water wash over her dirty nails as she rinsed away the dust coating the tub.

Scabs formed where the ropes had cut into her wrists. Recalling the chill of blindly washing her tied hands in the basin they delivered each morning, she let the hot water rush over her arms, welcoming the slight burn.

Steam swirled like a plume of smoke, and she reminded herself that was normal. She couldn’t recall the last time she showered. The last time she felt safe or normal or clean.

Years. It had been fucking years of blind sponge baths and cold, dirty water in the dark. She doubted such filthiness would ever fully disappear.

Juniper adjusted the faucet and turned on the shower. Her legs were tired from running in the woods, and her feet needed serious care.

Moving under the spray of hot water, a gasp jerked against her ribs, sharp and painful, as too many emotions loosened.

Don’t you fucking cry. Don’t you dare shed a single tear.

All her tough talk did no good as another jagged gasp ripped through her. Her strength crumbled like a landslide, rolling into a harrowing sob.

Taking the hard bar of soap in hand, she gently labored over her tender muscles, lathering up her skin as she tried to wash the filth away. But the worst of it was inside her.

Closing her eyes, she whaled into her forearm as sharp notes of bergamot and citrus anchored her to this seemingly safe place, far, far away from the cell they’d put her in.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” Sobs punched out of her. “It’s over. It’s done.”

Memories tickled like spiders crawling on her skin. She wished she could wash away the stench of the musty, underground dirt floors that still swamped her mind.

She missed her aunts. She missed her boring life, her shitty high school, and her aimless friends. She wanted to be a kid again. She wanted to go back to when she knew nothing about true evil.

More sobs built in her belly, constricted by the cage of her ribs as she gasped to get them out. She couldn’t breathe. Was this what hyperventilating felt like? Was she having a panic attack?

Afraid she might black out, she lowered herself to the ground and let the water rain over her. Sliding the hard bar of soap between her legs, she tried to wash her shame away.

The emaciated jut of her hips angered her, and she punched the tile, splitting her knuckle open. She punched again, letting the pain anchor her to the present.

She could still feel him breathing over her, his crushing weight sinking onto her.

Her lungs tightened and the soap fell from her hands, sliding to the drain.

She was a vessel of pain. Nothing beyond a threat. Sometimes a treat. But always a parasite, even when he used her for pleasure.

I won’t hurt you, he’d say, as if trust could live between them amongst such a vicious lie.

It always hurt. Every part of it. Her body. Her chest. Her heart. Her mind.

The cold press of his hands as they rode up her thighs .

It was never painless because it was never her choice, no matter how still she stayed for him. She fucking hated him with every single cell of her being. But her endless hatred had no target. He was a man without a face. A man who had no name. Her bottomless rage had no cure.

He was a monster. A monster who relished the fact that she couldn’t even scream.

But she could now.

Drawing in a painful breath of air, she let her fury break free. The wail that bellowed out of her came from the darkest depths of her soul, where her rage burned the hottest. The deafening crescendo built into a blaring cry, and the mirror popped, glass webbing beneath the steam. She panted and stared at the broken glass, undisturbed by the damage, as she struggled to breathe this suffocating air.

“Juniper?”

Adriel’s voice reminded her where she was, but she could only gasp and stare.

She pounded on the door. “Are you all right?” The knob shook. “Juniper, answer me!”

She stared at the door, numb and unblinking. What if she closed her eyes and woke up in that cell again? What if Adriel changed her mind, broke her promise, and turned on her? Was she a fool for trusting a vampire?

“Juniper, say something!” The knob rattled again, and the old door burst open. “Good Lord.” Adriel rushed forward and shut off the water. “What happened? You’re shivering.” She bundled her in a towel, buffing away the drops that clung to her chilled skin.

What happened?

Three years ago, she was just a dumb kid about to graduate, stealing her aunt’s weed and flunking math. After that…

A whimper escaped.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

She needed sleep. She needed help.

Adriel wrapped the towel around her, holding her as if she might shatter. Perhaps she already did.

“You don’t have to say anything, but if you want to talk about it, I’m here,” Adriel whispered, gently rocking her.

It felt good to be held.

Safe.

Familiar.

Her emotions calmed, ebbing back into the shadows far enough that she could breathe again.

“That’s it. Deep breaths.” Adriel dragged a hand over her damp hair. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

She closed her eyes, sinking into the comfort of her touch and resting her head on her shoulder. She smelled of sugar and mist beneath the traces of wilderness and smoke. Her touch was gentle, like an afternoon storm on a warm August day, but also strong. Capable. Possibly even fierce.

There was no pressure to talk or explain. And in that unspoken silence, they shared some sort of mysterious understanding. Without having to ask, she could tell that Adriel knew what it was like. She knew the fear and discomfort as well as Juniper. Perhaps more so.

The thought made her question how a strong immortal could also be weak. Perhaps the culprit wasn’t weakness any more than being female was to blame. What if they were merely victims because monsters were masquerading as men?

Looking at Adriel now, she wondered how anyone could hurt her. She had the delicate bone structure of a pixie and skin as translucent as porcelain. “I’m crushing you.”

Adriel stilled her when she tried to stand. “You’re fine. Just breathe.”

It had been so long since someone held her. How long had it been for Adriel?

Wanting to reciprocate the support she offered, Juniper tightened her arms around her waist. Adriel hummed softly and rested her head against Juniper’s. Maybe they both just really needed a hug.

A sense of déjà vu washed over her, and she frowned. She must have been remembering a dream. It triggered the memorable scent of smoke in the air. She recalled the sight of stars in the sky. The vision was as vapor thin but weighed heavily on her memory as if it had actually happened. But how could that be? What she pictured in her mind made absolutely no sense at all .

She’d been running—not on bare feet, but four padded paws. The world lacked color, and everything was tinged in pastels of blue and yellow. She was more animal than woman, dog-minded, with feline dexterity.

Then she was in a field, naked under a plume of black smoke.

Why had she been naked? What happened to her?

Fury returned, snuffing out her confusion, and she seized the opportunity before her. She was free and finally able to seek revenge. Supernatural energy charged the air as the raging fire licked the sky.

She gasped. “I saw the fire.”

“What?” Adriel drew back to look at her, their faces close enough that she could see the sprinkle of cinnamon freckles scatted across her upturned nose.

“Last night. I was there.”

“At my house?”

“I guess.”

Juniper had siphoned the fire’s power into her body and let it blast out of her. She remembered her aura glowing like a white-hot poker as her rage spilled free in a violent burst of light. She channeled the energy, and, one by one, the vampires had fallen to their knees. At that moment, she had full command of her magick. She could have killed them all and probably would have if the females hadn’t screamed for mercy.

She knew that guttural sound of grief all too well. They were somehow experiencing the pain she’d inflicted on the males. How? Were they somehow connected? She couldn’t justify hurting innocent people to simply cleanse the wicked. She didn’t have that level of cruelty in her, and that tiny realization fractured her powers with doubt and left her vulnerable.

How foolish of her to feel sorry for them. The moment they sensed a tremor of weakness, they attacked.

She shivered, recalling the burn of claws slicing through her skin the moment the spell broke. “I saw him.”

“Who?”

“Cerber—”

“Shh.” Soft fingers covered her lips. “Do not speak his name. Tell me what you know.”

“He was there. Last night. The house was on fire. I could tell him apart from the others.” She frowned, wondering what gave him away. “He wasn’t dressed in Amish clothes.”

“You’re just remembering this now?”

“I…something happened to me. I don’t know. I was running, and then… I was on the ground. There was a woman. She was hurt.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“I know.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense to me either. Maybe I blacked out. I was panicking, you know?”

“What do you remember? ”

She remembered unleashing her magick and then… She twisted out of Adriel’s arms.

“What is it?” Adriel stood, her eyes pinched with concern.

Juniper’s hand went to her back, searching for an open wound or torn flesh, but she found nothing. Had it been a dream? It seemed too real and detailed to merely be a figment of her imagination.

“Juniper?”

“It’s…nothing.”

The vision of Adriel ripping into that man’s throat was still fresh in her mind. She might look young with her pixie red hair, youthful ivory skin, and those big, green, innocent eyes, but she was centuries old and could be as vicious as the rest of them.

“Did you give me blood?”

“No.”

“You swear?”

“Juniper, you were there. I tried, and you refused.”

“Maybe you used compulsion?—”

“I didn’t. I wouldn’t do that when you so adamantly said no. Besides, you blocked me, remember?”

Juniper inspected her reflection in the mirror. Her bruises were fading fast. And where were the claw marks on her back?

“Juniper, what aren’t you telling me?”

She was like them—half witch, half… Her eyes closed, refusing to admit the truth. She had qu estions, questions maybe Adriel could answer, but she suddenly wasn’t sure if she could trust her.

Tightening the towel around her body, she faced Adriel. “I’m better now. Sorry about…scaring you. Sometimes you just gotta scream, you know?”

Adriel frowned.

She was a witch. But she was also half-immortal. How the hell did that add up to some small, four-footed, catlike creature with claws? Maybe she hallucinated that part.

“Juniper, you’re white as a ghost.”

Aunt Venus warned her that she would experience “growing pains” once she reached adulthood. Was that what this was? She met Adriel’s stare but didn’t know where to begin, so she lied, “I think I’m just cold. I need to find clothes and get dressed.”

Adriel studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “All right. But if you want to talk about what’s bothering you, I’m here.”