Page 8 of The October Trials

No one here gets to taste her blood.

Only me.

Not if they like their tiny little balls still connected to their pelvis. I know the exact line to cut at.

“That tight body in the short black skirt? Sinful lace knee-highs? She had to know what she was doing. I should go back out there to fuck her raw before the first round even starts.” Nico means to taunt Parker, completely unaware of the monster he’s awakening right behind him.

I’m across the room before he can blink.

I pull my knife from the sheath at my belt, the blade catching the candlelight as I press it to his cheek and drag it slowly downward, slicing a clean line through his skin. Blood wells up instantly.

His eyes widen.

Bringing the knife to my lips, I draw my tongue across the blood-slick steel, savoring the taste of my best friend’s offering. Hm. It’s rather thin, not the coppery richness I’m used to. He needs more iron.

“Do you want to continue?” I provoke him.

He vehemently shakes his head. He has a blood condition—pushing further could kill him. And he knows once that line is crossed, once the beast inside me gets a proper taste, I won’t stop.

The taste of blood is my guilty pleasure.

“I thought so. You don’t fucking touch her. You don’t look at her. She’s mine tonight, Nico. Say it.” I press the flat of the blade against his throat, getting into his face. “Say it before I carve my name into your fucking head.”

He swallows against the steel, still grinning like the psychotic degenerate he is. A choked chuckle wheezes out of him, his face reddening, and the blood on his cheek starts to clot from his condition. “Damn… you really are a fucking sucker for a pretty scream. The second you heard it, I knew you were gone. Did you even make her give up the watch?”

I wedge my thumb straight into his Adam’s apple, feeling the racing pulse hammer beneath my fingers. “Say. It.”

“She’s yours, commander,” Nico forces out past a strangled breath.

I hold him there a moment longer, letting the threat sink deep, before I shove him away. Parker clears his throat behind us, and I snap my head to him.

“What?”

He looks like he’s about to piss himself. “P-P-Please don’t hurt her. I promised to protect her.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you brought her to the devil, initiate.”

“You told me we needed another contestant!” he protests, but I’m already walking out of the room, heading to prepare for the start of tonight’s games.

Lucky number seven has no idea what this place does to things that are still innocent.

She has no idea what I do to things that are still innocent.

And when I catch my little caged bird tonight, I won’t just break her.

I’ll make her sing again, then I’ll make her thank me for it after.

4

Blair

The moment I cross the threshold into the dining room, any warmth in the air dies instantly. My eyes go to the long table dominating the room, its dark oak scarred by time and stained by centuries of decay.

Sure enough, the seats are already filled. I spot the only empty seat left and sit, the cold wood biting into the backs of my legs. Jesus. It feels like it’s thirty-six degrees in this room.

This has to be on purpose.

To make us uncomfortable and throw us off.