Crimson Covenant (Onyx Assassins 1)

“I’ll help you get her back,” she promised. “I’ll take you there right now, but…” She looked around the room. “I hope you have a lot more men because you’re going to need an army.”

I flashed my fangs. “We are the fucking army. Now take me to my wife.”

18

Lyric

“Where. Is. Their. Stronghold?” He accentuated each word, using a slap across the face as punctuation.

I spit a mouthful of blood on the floor, hissing from the sting across my cheeks.

The concrete floor was cold and soaked with a good amount of my blood and some other, unknown liquids I didn’t care to think about.

“Where?” the man screamed, this time throwing a full punch across my jaw.

My knees cracked against the hard floor, my palms smacking to catch my fall. Anger sizzled like acid in my blood as I glared up at him.

Square jaw, built like a wrestler, with like auburn hair cut short—like a military cut. And his eyes…there was something familiar about those pale green eyes. Something that tickled the back of my mind like an itch I couldn’t reach.

I narrowed my gaze.

“Kyle.” The name clanged through me, and his eyes widened, confirming my instincts.

“What the fuck are you?” he hissed, backhanding me once again.

I’d never met Valor’s brother, Kyle, but I’d heard enough stories about him. Stories of how he adored his father’s company, how he couldn’t wait to take it over with Valor someday. Where Valor dreaded the day, she’d always told me he was running toward it with open arms.

But what did Valor’s family company have to do with kidnapping me? Torturing me for information on Alek and his estate?

My instincts roared, whirling as that old-familiar icy sensation crackled at the back of my neck. My mind rushing back to weeks ago, pouring through Alek’s old scrolls in the library, coming across names of an old secret society with an intense vendetta to create a new, perfect world—Moorehouse.

I’d thought it was a coincidence. Or that maybe an ancestor of Valor’s had been mixed up in the group…but maybe…maybe that group had never disbanded.

“I’m a Seer,” I said, forcing myself to stand, the heavy shackles around my wrists and ankles chaffing my skin raw. I met his gaze and relished the small flicker of fear I scented on him. “And I see right through you.” Of course, I didn’t have a clue the depth of my powers, of the supernatural drop in my blood, but I could trust my instincts enough to listen, and right now? Right now, they were telling me to push back with anything I could. To scare him, threaten him, stall him.

Kyle scoffed, curling his lip at me. “You’re nothing but a piece of trash,” he snapped. “How could you breed with a vampire? Debase yourself with such an abomination?” He stalked to the small table behind him, the one topped with all manner of…tools. Some with blunt ends, some with sharp, all gleaming and pristine under the flickering lights above me. “You will tell me where the stronghold is.” He spun on his heels, his shoes so polished I could nearly see my reflection in them as he walked toward me. He gripped a bright silver mallet the size of my arm. Its head was peppered with sharp spikes—

White-hot pain sparked over my left temple, and I hit the floor again. Warm liquid itched my cheek—blood leaking from a gash above my eyebrow. My vision wobbled, my heart hammering against my chest.

I hissed, pressing my heightened senses farther as I jerked my head back to look at him. To search him, using my senses to hunt for a glamour.

Cold drenched my skin.

“You’re…human,” I breathed the words, my chest tightening. Demons had attacked me, hurt me, killed others. I thought perhaps Valor’s brother—this man who’d delighted in torturing me for hours—could be a dark supernatural creature.

“Of course, I’m human, you stupid twat.” He spat, his hot salvia hitting my face.

I flinched, swiping it off, the manacle at my wrist burning from the movement.

Human. No glamour. No bidding of a dark master. Just…human malice.

He walked back to the table, replacing the mallet and grabbing a serrated blade. “I will never tire of shedding your blood, fanger,” he said, crouching before me. He slowly waved the blade in front of my face, and I bared my fangs. “Tell me what you know, and I’ll make your end quick.”

“Bite me,” I snapped, flashing my fangs so quickly he flinched back a step. I couldn’t stop the maddening laugh that bubbled from my chest. My head spun and whirled, probably from too much blood loss, or maybe it was because I’d been trapped in this cell for who knew how long. The hunger was palpable, an ache in my stomach and a burn in my throat I couldn’t ignore.