65

When I didn’t move, he sighed, and Nic’s arms tightened around me.

“Leia.” Francois never used my name, and I stiffened as I looked into two clear and focused eyes. “We can either do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way is for you to accept all that you are—mon destin—and come with me now, and the hard way is for me to kill this man—” He shook Dad then, and Dad gurgled at Francois’s choking hold. “And then I shall claim you anyway.”

“Please.” I reached toward him. “I’ll do anything.” I glanced up at Nic. “I need to help my dad. I need to do what Francois wants.”

“No.” Nic’s words were a desperate growl. “You’re not his heart, you’re not his destiny. You’re mine. Only mine.”

“But…”

Nic shook his head.

“Non?” Francois cocked his head, his expression empty of anything but curiosity as he studied me. “You reject your sire?” He shook Dad again. “You reject me?” He pointed at Nic. “For him?”

I struggled again, sensing Francois’s grip on lucidity slipping away. “I need to do something, Nic.”

“Oui, Nicolas.” Francois spoke Nic’s name like a taunt, and it only served to drive Nic to hold me closer. “Release ma petite so she may join me. She can save this man.”

He shook Dad once more, but Dad barely groaned.

His life was slipping away, and I was trapped, unable to save him.

“Mais, non!” Francois spoke again, but this time it was quieter, like maybe it was for his own ears. “Maybe her power comes from her sire. Perhaps I can take it directly.”

With one final glance at me, he bared his fangs, and too late, I knew exactly what he was about to do. Cold horror moved across my skin in slow motion, chilling me to my bones, and I screamed even louder than before as he bent over Dad, his fangs piercing Dad’s neck and ripping the front of his throat clean away.

Blood spurted into the air, before raining down and coating Francois in a veil of darkness that glowed red where the moonlight shone on it. The copper scent in the air grew stronger and Nic turned me to him as something warm and wet spattered over me.

“Don’t look,” he murmured. “Don’t look.”

But I’d seen. I’d already seen it all, and the image of Francois holding Dad’s limp, torn body was seared to the backs of my eyelids. I couldn’t even close my eyes to escape it.

I opened my mouth to scream again but nothing happened as my throat tightened, fear and rage taking hold, and I froze again, like when Francois had attacked me, like Sebastian had nearly bitten me. In the face of extreme terror, I froze while everyone else fought my battles. And I hated it.

As I tried to discover my courage, Nic spun me farther still, but instead of pressing me closer, he passed me into more waiting arms.

“I’ve got her.” Aimée’s familiar voice spoke loudly, jarring me.

“Let go of me.” My ability to move came roaring back now I was no longer in Nic’s arms, and I struggled harder. “Let me go. I have to kill that bastard! He has to die.”

I shoved my hair from my face, and my hand came away sticky and wet with congealing blood. I screamed just looking at it. I screamed, and I didn’t stop as Aimée raced me away from the battle, away from harm.

Away from Nic.

I glanced behind me, trying to find him, and the last glimpse I caught was of him lunging toward Francois, looking more feral than I’d ever seen him.

Aimée didn’t stop running until she reached the safe house, and once there, she banged on the door until Ulva, human and naked, let us in.

“She’s back.” Aimée’s words were unnecessary.

I was very clearly back.

“What were you thinking?” Ulva glared at me. “You could have gotten yourself killed.”

I didn’t answer her. I didn’t care for the opinion of a wolf shifter.

Dad was gone. My only family. My last living parent, and with him the last of my connection to Mom.

I was an orphan.

Aimée deposited me on the overstuffed sofa and unceremoniously draped a blanket over my curled-up form. “Stay,” she ordered.

I sat, not bothering to look at anything but not closing my eyes, either. Vague sounds of the battle still reached the house, but it was all so much less important now.

Dad was gone.

Francois had killed him.

Because of me.

It was all my fault. Nic had claimed me—I’d let him claim me, asked him to—but it hadn’t solved anything. Other vampires seemed to want me just as much as before. And that made me dangerous to be around—because what vampires wanted, they did anything to attain.

And vampire methods weren’t pretty. They were bloody and painful and cruel.

I drew away from Aimée. She was one of them. She had their power and their capabilities, and I was human and weak.

Fucking human.

Fucking weak.

All the things Francois wasn’t.

Rage boiled inside me, burning the inside of my chest, reducing my heart to ash. I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care about anything but the need for vengeance that gripped me like it had claws.

We remained silent as the noises outside died away to unnatural silence, and my eyes became dry as I continued to look at nothing. Occasionally, Aimée and Ulva exchanged words between themselves, but I didn’t listen.

I didn’t care.

Aimée tried to talk to me twice, but I didn’t reply.

I didn’t care about that either.

I didn’t have time to talk to her. I had other things to think about. Plans to make. And those plans didn’t include being the token human or a vampire’s pet, or even the prize they fought over.

My whole life had been about saving Dad and now I’d killed him.

That was unforgiveable.

But I wasn’t out of options.

I could still avenge him.