“Well, at least none of them are brutal,” she says with a sigh. “Not to the tributes, anyway. James is a monster.”
“Yeah.” I nod, anger rushing through me again. I don’t let it show on my face though, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Hey—how about a headache to get out of dinner?”
In the end, she decides to try for a migraine. There’s nothing infectious about those, and girls seem to come down with them a lot. Probably something to do with losing blood all the damn time, but I’m not a doctor.
Anastasyia lets her stay in bed and promises to cover for her if anyone asks about her. The vampire matron is actually one of the few people here who treats us as more than meat. She’s a lot kinder than I would’ve expected. I sort of want to know her story, but I also know that I need to stop learning more about the people I’m running away from. I can already feel the hangover from the amount of whiskey I’ll need to drown out the survivor’s guilt.
Speaking of survivors, the male tributes are on time for dinner for once. As usual, I sneak a quick glance at my brother to check in on him as we all file into the great hall, and my brows furrow when I catch sight of him.
Nathan is trailing behind the group by several yards. Every movement is stiff and slow, as if he aged fifty years since I last saw him. It reminds me of the time he got his ass kicked by a bunch of teenage BloodGods—he never did tell me why, but it’s not a huge mystery. A bigger mystery is why he’s walking around looking like that now, when he’s supposed to be under the vampires’ dubious protection.
I’m at the back of the group of female tributes too, so it isn’t hard to drift back a little farther to intercept Nathan. He doesn’t even seem to see me until I touch his wrist, then he jumps like he’s been shocked.
“Hey. What’s the matter with you?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
He inhales sharply, hissing through his teeth. He’s pale, skinnier than he was last week, his eyes dull over dark circles. He’s still shaking, even though he clearly knows it’s me now. A sharp twist of worry sets all of my senses on edge. Dammit, I should have been keeping a closer eye on him. The little check-ins I try to do clearly haven’t been enough.
“It’s… it’s Althea and Maureen,” he says, his voice a dry, harsh whisper. “They’ve got a pissing contest going. I’m the prize.”
He gives me a wan smile, showing me his sunken, withdrawn gum line. My stomach bottoms out. Fucking hell. They’re sucking the life out of him.
“Show me who they are,” I growl. “I’ll kill them right now. Fuck this.”
I start for the door, but Nathan grabs me before I can go more than two steps. Even his grasp is weak, dammit. “Mikka, stop. You can’t kill them, the rest of them will eat you alive. You know that. You have a plan, remember? Play the long game. Attacking now is stupid. You’re not stupid.”
I whirl around, narrowing my eyes at him. “I’m not going to just sit here and let them kill you by inches, Nathan.”
“Then don’t.” He shrugs tiredly. All the fight has gone out of him just like that, and the sight of his listless expression makes rage boil in my veins. “But don’t be stupid. Okay?”
I don’t want to agree, but if we stay out whispering in the corridor any longer, someone’s going to come looking for us.
“Okay,” I say flatly. “But you better promise to come straight to me if you need help. You hear me?”
“Yeah, I hear you, Mimi,” he murmurs, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I promise.”
“Good.”
“Now—dinner time.” He gives me a firm look, then walks away from me, shuffling like an old man.
Fire crackles in my soul, but I follow him into the dining room.
I don’t know what I’ll do if I see those two bitches crawling over him tonight. The fury churning inside me doesn’t care much about subtle plans.
Chapter Seventeen
I can’t eat. I can’t even pretend to eat.
All of my attention is on Nathan, who’s shoveling food into his mouth as fast as possible. I know why—the female vampires aren’t exactly hiding their intentions. I see them eyeing one another from across the room, one on either side of Nathan. One’s a tall blonde, her trim figure built out like a tennis player. The other one is a few inches shorter, round at hip and breast, an olive-skinned girl with dark curls down to her ass and long purple nails filed into points.
They barely let him finish his first course before they start surreptitiously moving toward him. They act like they’re mingling, play at being distracted by conversation, but every move they make is toward Nathan. The brunette gets to him first, petting him with those long nails absently while she carries on a conversation with another vampire.
Nathan tenses, then slowly relaxes as she keeps petting him. She’s just marking her territory—for now. I glance around, looking for the blonde. She’s watching Nathan too, her eyes slitted with territorial fury as she moves closer to him. The brunette sees her and grins, then tips Nathan’s chin up to kiss her. He does, but I see his shoulders go rigid again. He knows what’s coming.
A second later, it happens. The brunette bites him, drinking deeply. Too deeply. Rather than embrace her, as most tributes find themselves doing when bitten by a skilled vamp, his hands just go limp. Rage stiffens my spine. The blonde is moving like a
