Cathedral (Cradle of Darkness 1)

And he could have broken my arm, broken my body, at any time in retaliation.

But hunger made me as stupid as Malcom had warned me it would.

I couldn’t truly hurt this man if I wanted to, and I did. I wanted it badly.

I wanted to tear into flesh and sinew, gnaw his bones for marrow.

I wanted to feel his last heartbeat while I sucked in the stygian blood that made him immortal.

I wanted to feast.

Reaching out, fingers soft because predators of the night were designed to be tempting in all ways, Malcom gave my earlobe a tweak. “You should have eaten. You promised me, Jade.”

Hating how often he used my name, I meant to hiss, but found my head turning toward the subtle thump, thump, thump of the pretty arteries in a beautiful wrist drumming by my ear.

Marble white skin, blue capillaries. A lovely delta spreading from a single, juicy vein.

The groan left me before I might rein in the animal inside. Tongue flicking out, I forgot the man I held by the throat, the one suspended over the ground by my sheer strength, and tasted my lower lip instead.

Pleasure waited with just one bite.

Fulfillment.

And I began to ache, I was so hungry.

Right there, right before me was a balm to such pain. Right there was everything I’d ever wanted.

Teeth sunk in, raking deep so cool blood might flow so much faster into my mouth.

Pressing that wrist to my lips, I gorged, sucked hard… drained him.

Until a horrifying moment of clarity broke though the frenzy.

He must have noticed when sanity returned, for the bastard dared stroke my hair with his free hand… Or had been the whole time I’d acted the fool?

“Take what you need.”

I dropped him. I backed away. I ran the back of my hand over my blood-red lips.

And I could not meet his eye for the shame.

That was nothing to the utter dread that surged into my breast a moment later.

“Daughter,” a living nightmare whispered into the room behind me. “How good it is to see you.”

Chapter Eight

It had been five months since my Father had last approached me in his Cathedral. Five months in which I’d grown complacent.

Five months since I felt raw fear the way I felt it when his dulcet voice drifted over my ears.

Scrubbing my mouth of all traces of blood, as if that might make any difference, I’d made sure to straighten my dress before turning to curtsy and cast my eyes to the floor. “Father.”

Robed, he still dressed as if ruling the ancient Persian empire from which he’d hailed, vivid, gem-encrusted red scraped over the floor. He came nearer.

“My king. Senator Parker has proposed a marriage between your daughter and his nephew. He seeks to keep your favor as he abandons your policies. Jade argued with the boy this afternoon, sent him to his mistress.” Just like that, the only report of note I had to deliver was stolen—Malcom taking the credit and leaving me to look petulant, weak, and most importantly, disobedient.

For I had not made note of the situation the previous evening, too busy scrubbing off the stink of garbage and cum. Then I had played at bed sport with the human who’d failed to seed my womb for years.

Unable to resist the scratch of filthy fingers picking though my thoughts, I wobbled on my feet, regained balance, and tried my best not to resist King Darius’ mental probe.

“It’s unbecoming, daughter.” I heard it. I felt it. I knew my daddy’s words in every last cell.

My attachment to Ethan: the feelings of comradery. He and I, both servants to great houses. Trying to paint myself as if it were us against an unjust world. My righteous anger that he’d claimed to love a replaceable blonde.

“How many times must we have this discussion? Did you learn nothing from your time with Gerard?” As if loving, as if he wasn’t seeking to make me squirm for his own amusement, my father chided, “Did that old corpse leave his wife for you? Did he love you back?”

“No.” Yes. Yes, he had. He’d loved me and he’d been sent off to die in the war thanks to Malcom’s interference.

And that was entirely the wrong thought to have in the presence of all-seeing evil.

The taste of King Darius’ displeasure soured the stolen blood in my belly. It turned my bones to mush. Even so, I looked up, certain my eyes were pleading for mercy I’d never know. “I wish to marry Ethan.”

I wished to run away with him and hide where no shadows could ever touch me.

“Hmmmm.” A warm sound that chilled my marrow. More beautiful than any ancient contracted to walk the halls of my father’s Cathedral, the king of my entire universe sighed. The unbearable weight of glowing red eyes left my body to settle on my guardian. “Tell me, Malcom. Has she been repeatedly disobedient?”