Page 104 of Tainted Souls
“Why don’t you adapt?” The incredulity in my tone isn’t feigned. “I can understand not having the need for technology, but what stops you from using weapons?”
I internally kick myself, hoping my curiosity hasn’t given him ideas.
His head cocks, almost avian. “We adapt, just not in ways that are easy to see.” The moonlight casts his profile in crisp detail, highlighting the hard line of his jaw. A slow exhale escapes him, the faintest sound in the quiet, and it draws me in despite myself. “Have you ever tried to clean blood from steel?” he asks, clearly rhetorically. “It seeps into every crevice, every joint. The scent lingers, even after the stain is gone.” His eyes find mine, unblinking. “Weapons are designed with one purpose: to spill blood. We exist with one primary need: to consume it. Every drop wasted is a meal lost. Every battlefield is a feast turned to poison.”
I hadn’t considered that—the practical contradiction of vampires wielding weapons that waste what they need most. It is a perspective that shifts something in my understanding, however slightly.
“You don’t fight alongside the Veltri, but you don’t fight against them either,” I say, watching his expression for any crack in the facade. “So, where does that put you?”
“Preparation.”
“For what?”
“You’ve only seen fragments of what’s to come.” He looks out over the water. “Cain’s a symptom, not the disease.”
I hate how cryptically he speaks, but he’s clearly implying the war will soon reach its breaking point. We all know it, even if we can’t quite imagine what it’s going to look like, or what will come after.
The night air grows cooler, a soft breeze rippling across the pond’s surface. I sit on the bench and wrap my arms around myself, suddenly aware of how exposed I feel in this elegant dress, surrounded by creatures who see the world completely different from me.
“We can find ways to live together,” I venture, glossing over the part where the burden of change would fall onthem, not us.
He sits beside me, maintaining a careful distance. “I’d love to see that world. Perhaps you’re the one to make it real.” He turns to look at me then. “You—with the ability to walk in daylight, hunt your own kind, and the potential to birth the next generation of Nobles—could tip the scales in either direction.” His hand lifts slightly, fingers parting as if weighing something invisible in the space between them. “Or hold them steady between us. Though, as it stands, our ideals are divided by too wide a gulf.”
My stomach twists as I digest the information. The pieces are finally starting to click into place, not in the way I want them to, but in the way they have to. I’ve spent my life straddling worlds. Vampire enough to pass, human enough to hunt. But now, with Cain seeking to exploit my blood and this man questioning my allegiance, the middle ground I’ve occupied seems to be crumbling beneath my feet.
I exhale slowly, trying to rid myself of the suffocating heat that’s rising in my chest. “What if I choose neither side?”
“Then you stand alone, against forces that will tear you apart.” He leans in, his arm resting behind me on the stone bench, his proximity almost unbearable. The moonlight reflects the silver in his eyes, turning them glassy, as if lit from within by something not entirely alive. “And that would be a waste.”
As quickly as he got close, he turns away and rises, signaling the end of our conversation. Without breaking his stride, he heads back toward the mansion, not sparing a single glance back in my direction.
For a moment, I stay where I’m at, rooted to the spot.
I wait for him to turn around, to give me some sign that he’s not as indifferent and unreadable as he seems, some indication that he’s someone I could understand. But he doesn’t.
With each step he takes, my options slip further away.
My mind screams at me to find an escape, to seize this chance before it’s too late, but my body won’t listen. It refuses to move. The message is clear: I’m meant to follow. There’s no questioning it. No alternative available. It’s not a choice, but an expectation, and my instincts tell me that defying it would be a mistake.
A mistake I’m terrified to make.
Slowly, I stand and begin to trail after him, the stone path feeling like a tether. He still hasn’t looked back, but I’m not surprised.
He doesn’t need to. He knows I’m behind him. And part of me, the part I wish I didn’t have to give in to, is already resigned to it.
When he reaches the mansion’s entrance, he pauses at the threshold, one hand resting on the heavy brassbound door. His body blocks the passage inside, forcing me to stop just before reaching him.
For an excruciating moment, we just stand there, caught in a silent power struggle—me waiting for him to move, him refusing to yield without making his point.
Before I can finish contemplating punching him or forcing my way through somehow, he pulls the door open with a fluid grace that belies the weight of the ancient metal.
He doesn’t step aside immediately, instead fixing me with a look that cuts through pretense.
“Remember, you may think yourself a victim of circumstance, but you are as much a player in this game as any of us.” His eyes flick to the horizon for a moment, as if to remind me that there’s a world beyond the mansion where everything is connected. Where no one is innocent,trulyinnocent, and no one escapes the consequences of their actions. “Choose your moves carefully, Seraph.”
Before I can respond, a familiar figure appears in the doorway. It’s Sophia, her caramel hair now cascading freely down her shoulders, the top buttons of her blouse undone.
She lowers herself into a graceful curtsy. “My lord, you mentioned a promise. I trust that the time has come to fulfill it.” She twirls a lock of her hair between her fingers, her posture poised and chest outward, as if presenting herself without touching him.
