From Slave To Queen (Athena and Michael) novel Chapter 27

Chapter 27

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He begins to laugh as if it were the funniest thing he’s heard in years–maybe centuries. His laugh is beautiful, soft, and melodic. My head spins again and I’m certain that if I take another step, I’ll fall flat on the floor.

“Is this the famous addition to your feeders?” he turns his attention to me and gives my body a quick once–over. “I think you should treat her a little better and take better care of her–she looks like she’s bleeding out.”

His nostrils flare, probably picking up the scent of my blood. I look around and, though not all, many others have noticed too. I lower my gaze to my hand and realize the bleeding hasn’t stopped, and now it’s soaking through completely. The piece of fabric, originally white, is now a deep scarlet.

Cassian’s piercing eyes focus on me; he gives a quick glance at what I’ve just noticed myself and, with a rough yank, grabs my wrist to examine it.

“Why aren’t you healing?” he snaps. “My saliva should have sealed the wound and accelerated the healing.”

I try to speak, but the words don’t make it past my throat. He looks around, and by the way his face tightens and his jaw becomes sharper, he’s clearly not happy. The rest of the guests seem to notice too, because we don’t even have to push them aside–they part to give us space. We move quickly, causing me to stumble several times and earning an angry glare from him. Just when I’m thinking I’m not going to survive this night, a girl throws herself at him. She wraps her hands around his neck and the blush on her cheeks makes me think maybe she’s had too much wine.

“Lord Cassian…” Her lips get dangerously close to his face. “You’re so handsome and dashing…”

“Move.”

He nearly pushes her to the floor. She doesn’t give up though, as we’ve only taken a few steps before she gets in our way again, bothering an already furious Cassian. Her level of drunkenness prevents her from realizing the danger she’s in.

“Please, sir, consider me,” she pouts ridiculously. “I want to be beautiful forever like all of them.” She points to a group of vampires watching us with their goblets overflowing with thick liquid. “Bite me, I offer myself willingly.”

She throws herself to the floor, begging and creating a rather embarrassing situation, even for me. She ends up clinging to his legs, pleading for him to turn her.

“She’s not even pretty.”

It takes me a moment longer than it should to realize she’s talking about me.

“Turn me instead. Please, sir…”

The way Cassian’s chest expands with a deep breath is more than enough warning to know he’s reached his limit. That sinister look I’ve managed to glimpse many times before appears again. His hand grips my elbow tighter, and then what happens leaves me speechless and increases my trembling.

I don’t know if it’s the movement of his hand or something else I can’t see, but in a matter of seconds, the girl’s body collapses to the floor, as if she had lost all structure, as if her skeleton had been ripped out. A mass of skin and organs that couldn’t be contained now covers the ground. Bile rises up my throat, I bring my hand to my mouth, trying to avert my gaze from that pile of flesh that just moments ago was a beautiful girl.

I’m about to vomit when Cassian pulls me again, dragging us out faster than I thought possible to the outside. The carriage

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Chapter 27

is waiting, he pushes me in roughly and I’m not even seated when it starts moving. Ife runs his hands through his hair frantically and I can’t bring myself to look at him for more than two seconds.

He’s a monster, a complete monster.

“Let me see your wrist.”

He tries to reach for me; however, for once I’m faster and manage to press myself against the seat before he can grab my wrist.

“Don’t touch me.”

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My voice is tinged with panic and, realizing this, he does something unexpected. He laughs–heartily–and it shouldn’t seem like such a beautiful sound.

“I hope from now on you show a bit less defiance.”

His gaze locks on mine.

“I’ve been far more benevolent than you think, so next time I demand your blood, you’ll give it to me without objections. And now let me see why you’re not healing.”

I’m reluctant to obey, so, as has been the case all night, he ends up yanking my arm without any delicacy. He inspects the improvised bandage and rips it off, examining my wound that won’t stop bleeding. The gash across my wrist looks quite bad.

“There’s not a single sign that your tissues are trying to heal and regenerate.”

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