Page 154 of Tainted Souls
Cain’s laugh comes out in fits. “Can’t I? Look at her.” He gestures toward me with a showman’s pride. “She’s already mine.”
“You’re lying,” Max spits, but I can see the doubt creeping into his expression. He looks at me, searching for any confirmation or denial. “Seraph?”
I want to tell him everything: about my mother, my brother, the torture, the threats, the betrayal. About how I have nochoice. But the words lodge in my throat. If I speak or show any sign of resistance, what will happen to them? To him?
This is me sparing his life—the last kindness I can offer.
My silence speaks volumes. Max’s face falls, understanding dawning in his eyes. Cain claps his hands together, delighted. The vampires titter with laughter around us, enjoying the spectacle. I feel myself shrinking under their collective gaze, shame burning through me, a humiliation so raw it scalds.
“Captain Ventura,” Cain drawls with a smile so wicked it twists my anger into a storm I can’t summon fast enough. “Your contribution to this joyous occasion has been invaluable.”
“I serve my family,” she replies, her voice flat.
“Indeed.” He twirls a lock of her hair around his finger; she swats it away. “Blood before all else.”
A sudden hush falls over the crowd. The vampires part like a dark sea, creating a path through which two figures approach. Clementine walks with regal bearing, her bone-white hair swept up in a familiar way, adorned with jewels that catch the moonlight. The man beside her shares her Noble features, as well as the same sharp cheekbones as Cain.
“Mother, Father,” Cain announces, his voice swelling with pride. “May I present my bride.”
Clementine takes my hand in her cold grasp. “What a magnificent bride you are.”
“Took you long enough,” his father chides, his eyes raking over me in careful assessment.
This was never about just Cain’s twisted obsession. This was about bloodlines tainted by centuries of cruelty, sharpened into something deeply personal. And now, held in the icy grip of the woman who destroyed everything I loved, standing beside the man who orchestrated it all, I understand. Ruling the world is nothing compared to the power they hold over suffering.
“I told you love is poison,” Clementine purrs while leaning in close, her lips brushing my ear. “And now you get to drink every last drop.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms, the taste of blood in my mouth as I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from lashing out.
Cain inclines his head respectfully as they depart again, their interest already spent. Apparently, a few ominous words were all the occasion warranted. Not even their own son’s wretched union is worth lingering for. A strange flicker of pity suddenly stirs within me, but it burns out fast—snuffed out before it can settle.
Because I remember exactly all that he’s done and is still capable of.
As midnight approaches, the celebration reaches its peak. The full moon is directly overhead now, bathing the chamber in silver light.
Cain turns to me, his eyes glittering with anticipation. “It’s time for the final act.” He speaks loud enough for those nearby to hear, a ripple of excited murmurs passing through the crowd.
He guides me to a raised dais at the far end of the chamber, where a bed draped in crimson silk awaits. It’s veiled by a gossamer curtain that obscures the finer details, but it’s translucent nonetheless.
My steps falter as the reality of what’s about to happen crashes over me. This is no private consummation, but a ritual to be witnessed by all. “Please,” I whisper, clutching his arm. “Not like this.”
He doesn’t even flinch at my touch, as if my plea is nothing more than an insignificant utterance lost in the shadows. “Oh, darling,” he says, giving me a faint, wicked smile. “Exactly like this.”
His fingers tighten around my wrist, pulling me forward with an intractable force, making it clear that there is no escape from what’s to come.
My heart hammers so hard I wonder if it might burst from my chest.
Lucien approaches, grimoire once again in hand. He begins another incantation, this one making the air thick with magic, heavy against my skin like humid summer heat.
Cain leads me onto the bed, his movements benign but inexorable. I lie back against the silk, hoping for it to swallow me whole. He stands over me, unhurried as he removes his formal attire, piece by piece, revealing the pale, rugged body beneath.
I close my eyes, unable to watch as he joins me on the bed, his weight settling beside me. His hands find the fastenings of my dress, working them open with a flick of his fingers. The cool air bites my skin as the fabric falls away, leaving me completely exposed to his gaze and that of everyone watching.
“Open your eyes,” he commands. “I want you to see.”
A violent tremor rattles my entire body, my hands and legs quaking uncontrollably. But I obey, because it’s the only defense I have left.
Above me, Cain’s face is overtaken by glory and desire. Around us, Lucien’s chanting grows more intense, the words pulsing in time with my racing heart. As Cain lowers himself, his intentions unmistakable, I feel a strange detachment settle over me.
