It was rare for broodstock to be turned—they typically stayed human to pump out half-born dhampir babies. This transformation with Helget showed how much her lovers enjoyed her. Her two tall vampire mates released her arms, and Helget hopped into the arena, her hip-hugging emerald gown fluttering.
Peltos’ eyes couldn’t get any wider as recognition dawned in them. “Oh.Fuck.”
He tried to turn and run.
“Vallan?” I quipped.
The towering vampire grunted and barred Peltos’ path, arms crossed over his oak-tree chest.
Peltos spun the other way, trying to find an exit, all while Helget sashayed toward him.
Skartovius blocked his next path, kicking the discarded table leg away when Peltos moved for it.
Garroway moved to intersect his last option.
Peltos was crying now, begging for mercy from anyone who would hear it. He stumbled over Dimmon’s corpse, spinning to face Helg before she could get to him.
Garroway slid behind Peltos and wrapped Dimmon’s neck chain—dangling in his hand—around Peltos’ throat. He squeezed and Peltos writhed, his face turning purple from the pressure. He couldn’t move from Garroway’s iron grip, his forearm barring his throat.
Helget wore her nails long. We had been taught in the Firehold not to have long nails because they would hurt like the devil if they bent backward during a fight.
But the girls hadn’t been taught that lesson. They didn’t fight in the Firehold. Helget bucked standards and had inch-long daggers on her hands. Ten of them.
She used those nails to rake down Peltos’ tunic. He whimpered as his shirt ripped to shreds like a knife through warm butter. Garroway loosened his chokehold so Peltos wouldn’t pass out before his just deserts.
Helget smiled, so different than when she’d been a flush-faced human girl seeking exhilaration. Now she was vile like the rest of the vampires. It showed in her eyes. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on Peltos’ cheek. “Thank you for making me the woman I am, dear Peltos.”
Her hand became a spear and she thrust that spear nails-first into Peltos’ chest. A ragged sound of ripping flesh rang out, then the squishing, squelching of her hand digging around in his chest cavity.
Peltos gawked and seized. A second later, Helget’s hand came out holding Peltos’ still-beating heart. It pumped a slow rhythm, spurting blood. The vampiress clutched her free handbehind Peltos’ neck and tilted his wobbling head forward, forcing him to look at his heart in her palm.
When she crushed the bloody organ into a pulp, Peltos dropped to his knees and collapsed.
Helget bit into the dead man’s heart, tossing the remnants onto the floor with a wetplopand walking away without a backward glance.
Vampire noblebloods on the fringes licked their lips and charged into the fray to rip into Peltos—the perfume and sweet nectar of fresh human blood too juicy and aromatic to ignore.
I watched Helget’s two taller escorts guide her out of the ballroom, her arms looped into theirs. Then I spun away, looking past Skartovius’ wicked smirk—
Finding Rirth and Antones.
“Rirth,” I breathed, as the sound of licking lips and chewing flesh filled the space. “I’m so sorry for Cul—”
Rirth gazed at me in horror, like a stranger—a phantom banshee of nightmares. “How does it feel to play goddess, Sephania?” he snarled, even as Antones tried to pull him back.
Ant said, “Rirth, that’s enough, lad. We’d best be off before Lord Ashfen rescinds his—”
“Get the fuck off me, old man,” Rirth growled at Ant, shoving him. Sheer hatred shone in his eyes as he thrust a finger toward me. “You toyed with our lives to meet your goals. How does it feel? Answer me!”
I could not.
Vall, Skar, and Garro were directly behind me, imposing and brooding, but Rirth—the shortest fighter I’d ever known—was not scared of them.
“You’re no better than the monsters at your side,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “No,” he scoffed, turning at Antones’ urging. “You’reworse, Sephania . . . because youchoseto become this villainess.”
Chapter 53
I tailed Antones and Rirth to the courtyard of the manor, with my trio hovering like moths behind me.
