Fluidly, I slip down from the table and stride toward the man who is apparently so devoted to my sister.
It feels like a violation of some girl code for me to be snuggling into his side as he takes my hand and leads me deeper into the bowels of the church.
“Rest well,” Acessa says kindly from across the room.
I bow my head to her with a smile as I leave.
Prey walks slowly behind Rival and I, giving us plenty of respectful space.
He’s so good at being bad, and yet so perfect at being a vampire’s assistant.
How is that possible?
“Take her to the croft.” Rival drops my hand the moment we’re out of sight and turns to Prey. “I have to find Pavel. He’s been asking about Kyra.” Rival strides away down a dark corridor to our right, and I’m left in the shadows with my least favorite Ann Rice character.
Prey nods his head to the side in a ‘follow me’ sort of way but once we cross the hall that leads to the cellar, I already know my way around from the back entrance here. I’ve never been to the croft itself, but the windows in the cellar do provide a fairly nice viewpoint for spying.
Prey offers me his hand when we reach the narrow stairs that lead down to a hard drop, and my attention looks from his hand to his eyes and then back again.
“Habit,” he whispers like an apology before dropping his offer and slamming his shoulder into mine as he strides quickly down the steep steps.
What exactly was Kyra’s relationship with these assholes? How could she stand so much undead testosterone in one house?
Really though, what were their relationships?
Prey seems dead set on making this life of Kyra’s as comfortable and easy as possible. He has had moments of tenderness toward me, but it seems more familiar than sexual. Vuitton… Well, Vuitton has been more than sweet. He’s been —the memory of his body pressed against mine flashes through my mind.—
Was he like that with Kyra?
I roll my eyes at myself for letting that stinging emotion flood through my chest.
I quickly file it away to calm my aching heartbeat.
And Rival? Yeah, they were definitely hooking up.
What about Louis, then? The socially quiet but loudly protective shifter comes to mind. Though he was my sister’s protector, I don’t think there was anything deeper between them.
How many boyfriends did Kyra have in this life?
And if none of them were able to save her from her fate, what does that say about my prospects?
When I take a deep but uneasy breath, I find that we’ve entered the bowels. And seven crofts are in a line at the center of the room. Each one has a number etched deeply into the coffin shaped tombs.
“You’re six,” Prey tells me with a sweep of his hand. We walk toward it on slower steps, and just as I stand over my literal grave, someone else speaks.
“I didn’t expect you back,” the gravelly tone says, “so soon.”
The densely packed shadows of the dark room are all I can see, until the corner lamp splashes golden light over his black and white sneakers.
Aston Cardence.
“How have you been, Six?” He asks with a cruel smile that carves dimples into his taunting features.
My heart hammers as I stare at the man who tormented my sister for the last two years of her life before killing her. Again.
“Mistress,” Prey whispers with a bow of his head.
The sudden formality he shows me serves as a reminder of my own existence.
Of my pulse, and of what I have to hide.
“Why, did you miss me, Cardence?” I ask on a snap that I wish could lash out physically at his pretty pink hair.
His brows lift high and his pale green eyes flicker with something, but I’m not sure what it might be.
“Oh, dearly,” he says with a smirk.
His steps are languid, but with each one my heart begs to push me into fight or flight mode. Yet still I just stare, unimpressed at the daunting vampire.
My heart storms, despite how hard I try to calm myself.
With a fixated gaze he comes closer.
He comes so close his hand lifts and that’s all the space that he allows between us. His shining attention flits across my features in an animalistic way. There’s a question in his sea glass colored eyes.
Something… bad.
“You look different,” he whispers curiously.
Fuck.
My pulse now feels like a mallet slamming into a spike, over and over again.
“Yes. And it’s unfortunate that you still look the same, Cardence.”
His mouth falls open with a half smirk of stunned shock. “Damnnn, Six,” he whispers with growing amusement.
I turn away from him with a flick of my hair and my hands want to tremble badly, but I hold them delicately in front of me instead.
“Prey,” I beckon as I stride to croft six.
I wait with blank boredom painted on my face, and I refuse to exhale the painful breath I’m holding within the tightness of my chest. Prey works quickly to push aside my coffin lid for me, and it’s morbid that I’d rather crawl into my tomb and die than continue to look at that all-knowing man a single second longer.
Prey offers me a hand. I slide my sweaty palm into his cold one and I instantly feel a little better. I feel a gentle squeeze there, and I know the two of them are watching me closely as I climb in. It feels like a trap to crawl into your own coffin. It feels like a lifetime of fearing death is washing into me with the intent of drowning me in a puddle of my own creation.
I slide in.
Smooth, cold stone kisses my flesh.
It’s hard to swallow as I accept my fate.
Then I lie down in my tomb, waiting for Prey to close the lid on my existence.
The light squeal of hinges sounds like an alarm as the lid is lowered over my body inch by inch. I watch the
