Pretty When She Destroys (Pretty When She Dies 3)

“Cian?” Santos stared at her, not understanding. “You fought Cian?”

“And Amaliya.”

“Where?”

“A graveyard in the Texas Hill Country.” Etzli smirked, obviously enjoying feeding him only tidbits of information.

“Why did you go there alone?” Santos demanded.

“I wasn’t alone.” His sister turned adoring eyes toward the center of the room.

“Master, she’s still killing,” Gregorio said, his voice urgent.

Disoriented by all that was occurring, Santos whipped about to see a girl he didn’t recognize crawling on her toes and fingertips toward a cowering female human. At first he thought it was a child, but then realized it was a young woman, perhaps in her late teens. Blood soaked her pale blond hair, stained her white lace dress red, and dripped from her lips.

“Stop!” Santos ordered.

The girl hissed at him, baring long fangs, then grabbed the sobbing human by the collar of her dress and dragged her across the slippery floor toward her mouth.

“Stop! Don’t touch her!” Santos hurtled toward the vampire.

Thrashing about, the chosen victim screamed for Santos. He was about to grab her hand and wrench her from the grip of the vampire when her throat was shredded by the fangs of the other vampire. Blood, hot and precious, sprayed over Santos, instantly soaking his blue silk shirt. The blond vampire plunged her face into the fount of blood to drink.

With a howl of rage, Santos lurched forward to seize the intruding vampire.

“Don’t touch her!” Etzli’s voice hissed, then Santos was jerked off his feet and slammed to the ground.

Striking out in anger, Santos knocked his sister away. She immediately kicked out, sending him sliding across the bloody floor. Landing against a pile of broken bodies, Santos snarled, rising swiftly to his feet. Etzli glowered at him, standing between him and the strange vampire who was feasting on the last of his minions.

“What’s happening?” he shouted.

Santos was dimly aware of his cabal gathering in the doorway. At least twenty of his people were watching. None moved to interfere, clearly awaiting his order.

“She needed blood,” Etzli answered coldly. “Lots of it, to fully restore her powers. Rachon was keeping her only half-alive with her own blood.”

“Who is she?” Santos voice was cold, clipped, and full of his fury. Not only were his blood minions destroyed, but he was being usurped by his own flesh and blood.

Etzli’s response was a slow, cruel smile. “Your new master.”

“Jefe?” one of his guards said in Spanish. “Boss?”

Santos raised a hand, quieting the murmurs among the vampires clustered together watching the bloody feast. Their eyes burned bright, their own hunger rising.

“Etzli, explain yourself right now.”

Etzli’s smile only broadened.

The girl behind Etzli dragged herself upright, drunk on the blood she had consumed. Swaying, she stared at Santos with bright blue eyes. She licked her lips with a bloody tongue.

“Who is she, Etzli?”

“Get on your knees, Santos,” Etzli ordered. Directing her dark eyes at the vampires sta

ring in shock at the scene playing out before them, she said, “On your knees!”

The eyes of the cabal turned to Santos. Fury enveloping him, he clenched his hands at his sides. “Etzli, I’m warning you...”

“No, I’m warning you!” Etzli snapped. “Your defiance will not be tolerated, Santos! Now on your knees! All of you!”