Some part of me was fundamentally broken.
I’d given up on the idea of perfect acquiescence. I no longer wished to be an obedient human. But I couldn’t figure out when or how that had happened, the deciding memory a loose strand in my mind without a proper end.
However, defiance felt right.
Powerful.
Freeing.
“I’m Ryder,” he murmured after several long beats of silence. He didn’t so much sound displeased as he did amused. “As to your earlier inquiry about how you got here—you stumbled onto my property and attacked me and my lieutenant. Well, I suppose he’s a sovereign now.”
“Your sovereign?” I repeated, the title meaning something deadly inside my brain. Only royal vampires have sovereigns.
“Yes. A recent change that occurred while you napped on the floor.” He lifted a shoulder. “I needed someone I could rely on to handle a few affairs down in San José, and he’s the only one I could trust.”
“San José?” I felt like a parrot repeating words, but this location was one I didn’t recognize. Where am I? I wondered, not for the first time since waking up. However, now I no longer wanted to know so much as needed to know.
“Ah, yes, you wouldn’t know it, would you?” He sighed, the sound distinctly underlined in annoyance. “I’ve never enjoyed the whole region renaming, but I suppose I’ll need to remove the current title, won’t I? Can’t have the vampires of this region thinking Silvano is still in charge since Kylan killed him and all.”
Kylan.
Silvano.
Two vampire royals.
And if Kylan killed Silvano, that meant there’d been a change in the regime. And if this male was talking about sovereigns and renaming regions… then… “You’re a royal vampire,” I breathed. Which I’d already deduced a few minutes ago, only his name hadn’t registered as familiar, so the full thought hadn’t connected.
Until now.
“Apparently,” he muttered. “It’s not a job I ever desired to obtain, but here we are.” His gaze returned to mine, a calculating gleam radiating from his depths. “Which means, sweet pet, that I need to decide what to do with you.”
I shivered, the bars at my back suddenly colder than before.
Twenty-two years of training just to become a breeding doll. And now this.
No, thanks.
I was done with this bullshit life. If he didn’t kill me outright, then I’d just have to fight—
“Are you hungry?” he asked, interrupting my thoughts.
Am I hungry? Is that some sort of vampire joke?
Rather than reply, I just stared at him.
He studied me back in kind, his inquisitive gaze unnerving. It was the kind of look a monster gave his food before playing with it.
“You’re still hopped up on my blood, so perhaps you don’t feel it yet. But with all that physical activity, in addition to healing several fatal wounds over the last three days, you should be famished.” He slid his hand into his pocket to pull out a key. “So how about we discuss your fate over a meal?”
This had to be a trick.
Some cruel game.
What royal vampire asked to dine with his food unless he intended to make her the meal?
The door clinked as he swung it open. “Come, pet. Let’s find you something to eat.” He turned as if he didn’t have a care in the world, which, I supposed, he didn’t. I was a human. A mortal. The bottom of the food chain in his eyes.
But what he misunderstood was the fact that I had nothing to lose.
If he didn’t plan to return me to that breeding prison, then he intended to dine on my blood. Neither option appealed to me.
However, I wasn’t going to turn down his invitation to leave my cell. I just had no intention of following him to the dining room.
The cement floor was cold beneath my feet as I trailed after him, my eyes scanning for anything I could use to incapacitate him. It all depended on my ability to catch him off guard, which wouldn’t be hard since he’d given me his back.
He thought I was a meek little human.
A broken doll to fuck with.
Oh, he couldn’t be more wrong.
I was fueled by hate and vengeance. A will to kill. To slaughter. To survive. I would take him down and escape, or die trying.
There, my brain supplied as we turned a corner toward a staircase. Just along the wall before it was a table littered with various tools, the metal glimmering enticingly in the low light.
Take me.
Use me.
Hurt him.
That was what those items told me. I grabbed one as we passed, my fingers wrapping around the wooden handle that led to a blunt top. A hammer. Perfect.
I raised the item in the air, angled it right for his head, and swung downward.
Only to have him spin around in a flash, his hand catching my wrist and halting my movement midway. His opposite hand snagged my hip, forcing me to turn with him as he slammed me up against the wall across from the table.
“Drop it.” Two words uttered like a command one might give a dog.
I didn’t have a choice, his strength superior to mine in every way. I released the hammer, and it fell to the floor with a loud clatter.
“Good girl,” he said, pressing me into the wall with his thighs against mine. He released my wrist and grabbed my throat, giving it a squeeze. “Hmm, tell me your name.” His irises captured and held mine, daring me to lie to him.
I knew better than to try.
Mortal identities were all meticulously cataloged, and I’d undergone countless classifications at the university, each one requiring blood donations and fingerprinting for identification purposes.
“Seven hundred and one of year one hundred and seventeen,” I replied formally, my hands lying limply at my sides. During my university days, the term prospect would have been added to the beginning. But I was no longer a prospect. I was assigned.
He blinked at me. “I asked for a name, not a bunch of fucking numbers. What do people call you?”
“Seven hundred and one of year—”
His palm tightened around my throat, restricting my airway and effectively silencing my voice. “No. What did the other humans call you at the university?” He didn’t release me, his gaze narrowing. “If you give me another damn number, I may not allow you to breathe again. Nod so I know you understand.”
I tried to swallow but couldn’t, his grip so tight I was starting to see spots.
So I bobbed my head, hoping that would convince him to release my throat.
He didn’t.
Instead, he said, “Mouth a name for me.”
Tears stung my eyes, my inner fight battling the urge to just succumb to his strangulation. I was so conflicted that I couldn’t even seem to lift my hands to claw at his grip. It wouldn’t change anything. He’d just hold on, perhaps even tighten his grasp and snap my neck.
Wouldn’t it be so much easier if I just ceased to exist? But then I would have fought all these years for nothing.
Which was exactly how I felt when they put me in that breeding camp.
Yet my abhorrence still felt fuzzy, as if it had all been from a nightmare, not reality. However, I knew the world didn’t work that way. Everything was real. Including the hand squeezing my throat, threatening to kill me if I didn’t give this royal vampire a name.