But if I can find a way to kill him, I will gladly give my life for that. I doubt I’ll find a way to escape this place alive. This vow will give me time to find a silver weapon. It will help me learn his movements and powers. At worst I will sacrifice my life to take his. At best, I will be ready the moment the curse is broken.
“I swear to not harm you or any loyal to you while I am working to break the curse.”
His eyes flash. He knows my intent. He knows that as I stand here, making vows to him of protection and fidelity, I am plotting his death. He might be able to prevent me from acting on these wants, but he can’t stop me from thinking them, and that’s how I know my mind is still my own. The chalice quivers between us as we both clutch it tightly. Holding onto our secret hopes and plots with all the desperation we can muster.
“I accept your vow,” he says, finally. The vampire lord wrenches the cup from my grasp and brings it to his lips. He drinks deeply.
Ruvan’s flesh fills out, muscles straining against his clothes where they previously hung limp. His skin turns from lifeless to luminescent. It is radiant underneath the moonlight streaming through the massive circular window over the statue. The darkness falls from his eyes as inky tears. He blinks the impurities away, revealing whites, as any normal human would have. His irises are still yellow, but they take on a deep, swirling, golden hue. Hair that was previously greasy and matted now shines as though it has been freshly washed and relaxed, white framing a suddenly ethereal face.
He has gone from the monster of my worst nightmare to a man straight from a daydream. Death made beautiful is somehow far worse, far more sinister, than his original form.
The vampire lord looks down on me as if to say, Behold, look upon me in all my glory. I wonder whose face it is…perhaps it was one he stole long ago. I had thought vampires could only steal the faces of the hosts freshly consumed, but that could be as wrong as so many other things are turning out to be. But it doesn’t matter, for I have seen his true form. And I know underneath that suddenly achingly handsome exterior is the truth of the monster he is. Black mist follows his movements like angry, sentient power as he holds the cup toward me.
“Now, you drink.”
“I accept your vow,” I echo his words and take the goblet with both hands. I meet his molten gaze as, for the second time, I brace myself and drink an unexpected, magic draught thrust upon me, forcing myself not to gag. And like the Hunter’s Elixir that Drew gave me, this one burns the entire way down. I let out a gasp and clutch my chest as my heart pounds louder than a hammer and faster than a hummingbird’s wings. My breathing is suddenly noisy. I have never been more aware of the sounds air makes as it passes through me. I can hear the blood rushing in my veins and my tendons groan as they strain between bone and tightening muscle.
I slam my hand on the altar. Golden coins and daggers rattle against other gilded chalices. I keep my eyes locked with his, teeth clenched. I will not give this monster the satisfaction of seeing me on my knees.
The well of my throat burns as if a white-hot dagger is being thrust through my neck. The invisible weapon curves and drops to my chest. Without warning, my heart stops. It might only be a second, but time exists in the hollow of my chest where a beat should be. Beat, I will it.
My breath hitches.
The world spins a full revolution and comes to a screeching halt.
“Remember to breathe,” he says softly.
Inhale. Exhale. The burning within begins to subside. As it fades, it is replaced with a surge of raw power. The weakness in my muscles vanishes. I stare at the back of my forearm, watching with fascination as my skin knits back into place. My strength has returned, and then some.
This is the power of the Hunter’s Elixir…but deeper. Richer. More profound and complete. I glare up at the vampire lord. A crescent smile cuts his lips at my displeasure, his teeth as pale as the moonlight that outlines his shoulders. Of course he would choose the most painfully beautiful face to wear out of all he’s stolen. But if he thinks it will make me any less inclined to loathe him—to kill him—he is sorely mistaken.
He leans forward but does not touch me. His breath moves the strands of hair by my ear and sends chills down the back of my neck.
“My power is intoxicating, isn’t it?” he whispers. “Do you want more? Break the curse on my people, dear hunter, and I can keep you drunk on my power until your body can no longer handle me.” He eases away, hair falling into his eyes, shadowing them with the evil I know is real, for he has imprinted it on my soul.
It’s hard not to throttle him. But my body revolts at the mere thought of doing so. I push the notion from my mind, unable to handle the dizzying, nauseous feeling just thinking of harming him suddenly fills me with. My earlier fear returns: What have I done?
“Now, come along… I will show you to your quarters and then the real work can begin.”
