Page 8 of Claimed

‘Stop hitting the damn door,’ I shout, voice ragged. ‘Every time you do, he reacts.’

The impacts cease immediately.

Then Malachi, low and murderous. ‘If he commanded us not to harm you, it means he believed we had reason.’

I laugh again, because if I don’t laugh, I may start screaming and never stop. ‘Or maybe your boss knows you’re all emotionally constipated murder gargoyles with impulse control issues.’

Luca’s voice breaks in for the first time, rough and openly furious. ‘Fuck, I like her.’

‘Shut the fuck up,’ Malachi snarls.

‘Just saying.’

The absurdity of it steadies me for exactly one second. Then Valentin whispers in my head again.

Blood.

I whirl back to him.

One hand is pressed to his chest, claws digging near the mark, not into it but around it, as though he’s trying to tear the thing out of himself in his sleep. Sweat glistens at his temples.

Vampires sweat?

Why not? Let’s add it to the list of horrible discoveries.

I move back to him. ‘Don’t,’ I say, gripping his wrist before he can gouge deeper. ‘Don’t do that.’

The contact snaps something open and I’m in his head again. But this time it’s worse.

A city burning under a moonless sky. Then I hear a woman’s voice, amused and furious and deeply eerie in an unsexy way.

My sons, my kings, my beautiful monsters.

I see Valentin’s hands covered in blood as the mark blooms on his chest for the first time. Pain like a crown of broken glass. Then me under him, my throat open, my blood on his tongue.

The vision twists. Lyra’s face tries to form but my face forms instead. Dark hair, then ash-blonde. Terror, then fury. My old name wrapped around my new one like a noose.

His mind lunges towards me. Rabid with need.

I slam back into my own body with a gasp as the room spins.

‘Eira Cross,’ Aaron says through the door, voice now very precise. ‘Step away from him.’

That tone raises every hair on my arms. ‘Why?’

‘Because the seal is weakening. And we might not be able to control ourselves if we find you’ve done him harm.’

I look at the door. The pulsing light around the frame is flickering.

Oh. Fantastic. ‘Define weakening.’

Malachi answers, tone fat with vicious, deadly anticipation. ‘We can enter soon.’

‘And then what? You storm in, see me naked and bloody next to your unconscious sire, and everyone behaves rationally?’

No one answers. ‘Exactly.’

The lock flickers again, and I gasp as Valentin’s hand closes around my wrist.