Dark Inferno (Children from Sacrifice Book 2) by Arleta Rae

Author:Arleta Rae [Rae, Arleta]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Arleta Rae
Published: 2023-04-24T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THEA

Sitting on my bed with extra candles to light the room, I take a sip from the blood bag and let the liquid calm my unease. The book I took from the library sits open in front of me, its words seemingly screaming into the stillness of the room. I’ve read the same page over and over, unable to understand anything helpful. The only thing I was able to comprehend is that the vampires took and adapted a tradition that was used in some witch cultures. A Necaut Necare. It means a fight to the death, typically for the power and title of leader. A swirl of fire emerges on my fingertip and slithers around my finger. If I could use my fire on the King, I wonder if I could overwhelm and devour him in it.

The storm has only gotten worse. A terrible wind started up, each gust rattling the panes of glass in every hallway I walk through. Even my slender window by the nightstand bends to the wind. The rain pours from the clouds in sheets, and I can only see about ten feet out.

I curse at myself for leaving those other books on the table in the library. But until Morwen is with me, I’m avoiding that room. As much as my bookworm-self hates the idea.

The scent of the lavender that Morwen got me wafts into my nose, further calming the nerves stirred from the library. With every dark corner of the castle, an unnerving presence lingers. At least my room is safe.

My hand mindlessly moves to the pillow next to my leg, aiming to stroke what would have been my cat’s fur if I were home. Helios was always my reading buddy. Any time he crosses my mind, I shove the thoughts away. My heart can’t handle being away from him and his raspy meows. My fingers crave the silkiness of his orange coat, and my ears miss the heavy vibrations of his purring.

Again, I reach for the pillow, my eyes staring blankly at the scribbles of words in the book. I close my hand in a fist and throw the pillow against the front wall. Anger sizzles in my chest, in my blood. Anger at the ache in my heart, at the absence of a life forgotten. A life where my biggest concern was selling my art and finding a place to set up camp.

I slam the book shut and push it off the bed. It lands on its spine on the cold floor with a thump, opening again just to spite me. I toss the wool throw blanket on top of it and lie down, staring at the ceiling.

Despite being empty, the blood bag’s aroma entices my senses. If it weren’t for not wanting to walk back down to the storage room, I would go get more. Instead, I shove the hunger away and close my eyes, listening to the raging storm outside.

A fist pounding at my door causes me to jump out of my skin, my heart thundering against my chest.

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