Troubled (The Binding Chronicles #4)

35. She was a Goddess

She was a Goddess

A few minutes ago

Someone was here.

Therese felt their presence the moment the air shifted. The cool midnight air swirled, giving way to something deeper. Darker.

Keeping her fangs in the throat of her latest meal, she raised her eyes and looked around surreptitiously, careful not to move too suddenly.

At first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The forest appeared to be just that—a forest. But she knew better than to trust initial reactions. She could sense the presence of other beings. Her shadows whirled in her veins, and her dark magic screamed at her to pay attention.

Someone was here, and they thought they could sneak up on her.

Clearly, they had no idea who they were dealing with. Therese was a First, one of the Twelve, and stronger than anyone in this land. It didn’t matter that her wounds weren’t healing because she had the strength of thousands of years running through her veins.

That foolish witch Selene Du Pont thought she’d saved the world by throwing the Firsts into the enchanted tombs, but she’d doomed them instead.

Therese’s victory was so close, she could feel it. She was no longer the weak, broken vampire that had crawled out of her tomb. She was well-fed, powerful, and prepared to fight for what was hers.

She was a daughter of Ithiar, and that was her right.

Several minutes passed before the ground trembled. The quake was little more than a tremor, but it was ominous and foreboding.

The air warmed inexplicably, and Therese tasted the bitter, dark tang of ancient magic on the back of her tongue. There was something familiar about it.

Her eyes widened as she realized the last time she tasted magic like that was the night she’d been locked up. She stiffened, pulling her fangs out of the struggling, moaning man who was still holding onto a thread of life, and dropped his body on the ground. She’d deal with him later, if he didn’t die from his injuries.

The magic grew stronger, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

Her lips twisted in a snarl, and her nostrils flared as her gaze swung to the place where the darkness seemed thicker than the rest.

Therese rose to her feet, barely noticing the bite of the cold snow against her naked flesh. Clothes were confines used by humans to hide their imperfect, flawed bodies. As a flawless daughter of the moon, she had no need for such ridiculousness.

Shadows swept out from her hands, waiting to do her bidding.

A heartbeat later, the darkness before her rippled, and a pair of winged vampires dressed in black fighting leathers stepped into the clearing. They were beautiful… but so was she. They carried themselves with power, the crowns resting on their brows confirming their identities.

Therese narrowed her eyes and snarled.

These were the imposters. The ones who dared call themselves the king and queen of Eleyta.

A moan came from behind her as the mortal she’d been draining crawled away. Therese scoffed. Let him run. She’d deal with these two and then hunt him. It would be far more entertaining.

But first, the so-called royals had to die.

Honestly, they were little more than children. Their gazes had no depth, and their shoulders lacked the weight that came from having lived for thousands of years.

Did they think they could stop her on their own? The fools. She was a goddess compared to them, and soon, they’d realized exactly why Ithiar had blessed her.

They’d just made the last mistake of their very short lives.

“You,” Therese snarled, her smooth voice laced with darkness and death. “The King and Queen of Eleyta. You stole what rightfully belongs to me.”

She would take it all back.

Their crowns. Their thrones. Their land.

It would all be hers.

The male snapped his wings behind his back and stepped forward. “It seems we’re at a disadvantage.” He raised a brow and flexed his fingers at his sides. “You know who we are, but who are you?”

How dare he speak to her as though they were equals?

She curled her lip in disgust. “You should already know the answer to that question.”

Back in her day, everyone knew who she was. There wasn’t a single person, vampire or otherwise, who didn’t recognize the power of the Twelve.

“Humor us,” he said, shadows spinning around his hand .

Was he threatening her with a few wisps of darkness? This so-called king needed to be taken down a few notches.

She smirked. “Cute. I can do that, too.”

She had many tricks up her sleeve. Holding the king’s gaze, she exhaled, allowing her darkness to spin around her naked form and caress her. These weren’t just shadowy wisps that she controlled.

The darkness was her, and she was the darkness.

“What’s your name?” the man growled.

If he was trying to scare her, he was failing miserably. She’d enjoyed bed partners who were far more frightening than him.

She studied her nails. They were all broken and coated in blood. Once she rid herself of her imposter problem, she’d treat herself to a manicure and a hot bath.

“My name is Therese,” she murmured, turning her hands around and studying her blood-soaked palms. Yes, a manicure was definitely in order. A heartbeat later, she raised her gaze to meet his. “But you shouldn’t call me that.”

“Oh?” He seemed amused, which was odd since she was clearly the more powerful one here. “What should I call you?”

“Death,” she snarled, dropping her hands at her sides.

A dark rumble went through the male, but he didn’t seem worried. That was a mistake on his part.

“You hurt my people, Therese,” he said, ignoring her instructions.

“Hurt them?” She glanced at the bodies littering the ground at her feet and shrugged. “I suppose I did.”

The so-called king growled.

Was she supposed to care that they were dead? She felt empty. But that was nothing new. She’d been empty for as long as she could remember.

“They’re humans,” she said. “Their job is to provide us sustenance. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s the way the gods always intended things to be.”

“You’re wrong.” This came from the mysterious queen that all the humans seemed to adore. “The gods desire balance.”

Therese scoffed. This young vampire was throwing out words as if she understood what they meant.

Therese had kneeled before Ithiar himself and received the blessing of immortality from his veins. Balance? The Twelve were meant to rule. That’s the way it has always been.

This so-called queen and her husband were proof that vampire kind had grown soft over the past few thousand years.

Therese would rectify that when she reclaimed her place at the head of this country. She would remind people of their positions—the Twelve, followed by the rest of vampire kind, and then everyone else.

It was a good thing she had escaped her tomb when she did. This country was in dire need of a reminder of who was in charge.

Therese cracked her neck. She was done with this conversation. Done with chit-chatting, done with pretending to care, done with all of it. These vampires had stolen what was hers, and now, they would pay with their lives.

She stepped forward. “Thank you for enlightening me about what you think is important. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind when I rule this country once again.”

“See, that’s the thing,” the one they called the queen said. You won’t be ruling this country—not now, not ever.”

Therese smirked. This female seemed so young. So naive. At least the male looked like he’d seen some death in his time. But her? She was far too soft to be a daughter of the moon.

“Oh?” Therese smiled mockingly. “And are you going to stop me? ”

The king flicked his hand, and shadows fell, revealing a hundred vampires.

Therese’s eyes widened as she drank in the sight of the small army. They had her surrounded.

Was she supposed to be afraid? A laugh bubbled up inside her. So many vampires who clearly wished for death. Fine. She’d oblige them. After all, it was time she showed her power to the world.

Then, a voice came from behind her.

“They aren’t going to stop you,” a masculine voice said. “But I am.”