Page 10 of Ravenous

“At last!” Lowell said, clapping his back. “The Accession is in full swing then? No one wanted this more than you. Bloody fantastic!”

“Nay.” Thane straightened once more as understanding settled over him. “Nay, it’s no’.”

Lowell glanced up the slope, then back. His grin dimmed. “Right. At best, a witch. At worst, the demonic murderess.” He winced. “You said there are no problems, but…”

“But this is a verra big problem.” Thane turned to his side and lost his fight with the whiskey.

Chapter 5Shieldchief Arctos

Ravinelun, the Queendom of Berserkers

“What news, incubus?” Arctos’s voice rumbled low in the cave.

“What coin, bear?” Inkletter lounged against the stone, cleaning his claws with a blade.

“Depends on the information. And before you say that depends on the pay, remember I’ve only so much time and a bear’s impatience.”

The abandoned cave, one of thousands within the twisty Berserker lands, stank of iron and secrets. Perfect for espionage.

“Very well.” Inkletter lowered his voice. “I’ve developed a contact in Crypt Castle…” He was notorious for hiscontactsacross the Lore. Besotted females believed this male loved them and told him all their secrets. Yet Ink loved only his library. Spying for gold enabled him to acquire rare editions. “Word is the vampires are planning a power move this Accession, setting you up for extinction in the next.”

“Excellent,” Arctos growled. “Then I’ve got much coin for such news.”

Inkletter smiled, flashing his demonic fangs. “King Neculain is sealing his daughter Emilia in the Blood Crypt for a century with a stable of males. To breed her.”

Arctos didn’t blink. Typical, accursed leeches. “She must possess some unusual gift. Did a witch foremother taint her line?”

“Unknown. But Neculain wants ‘enhanced’ offspring—vampires fit to end every other species in the Skein.”

“Can she trace?” Arctos had heard that Neculain could, but none of his offspring had mastered teleportation. Few in the kingdom could.Thank Wóden.

“My source says not an inch. Emilia Vladescu must possess some other talent.” Maybe she could turn to mist like the royal vampires of old.

Arctos’s Berserkerage simmered just beneath the surface. Memories lived there too. He saw his family again—his mother shoving him into a bear den, her screams echoing, vampires laughing as they fed.

They’d decapitated his drained father and brother with a sword, but they’d beheaded her through bites alone.

In his nightmares…always that laughter.

He rubbed the scar that cut from his forehead to his jaw. His first fight, his first loss. Yet the pain of his injuries and lost eye was nothing compared to his grief and guilt.

Inkletter followed the movement of Arctos’s hand, then said, “Such news could stir the queendom to war with Bloodreach. Perhaps you’ll get the battles you need, Shieldchief.”

Arctos needed them desperately.

Just eight kills stood between him and ohalla—immortality forged from two hundred valiant kills. Ten years ago, he’d stalled because of Queen Yrsa’s edict: no offense, only defense.

And no one dared to attack them when the clan hungered for ohalla.

Only one future was certain for Arctos. Aging.Forty winters pressed on his bones. Every night when he looked in the mirror at his scarred face, he was reminded that he would soon be a burden to his people. No longer a warrior but a liability.

I’ll die first.

Arctos tossed him a bag of gold berkoin. “Dig deeper. I want a timeline.”

Inkletter’s brown eyes flashed Ubus green, a sign of sharp emotion. “Bedding this source is a punishment. I’d rather fuck a basilisk.”

Arctos could imagine little worse than intercourse with a vampire.