Garroway sighed. “Very well.” His voice was resigned.
I wasn’t sure why the fuck he cared. He had already betrayed me once by putting me in the same room as the murderer of my master. Now he wanted to act like he was doing me a kindness by sparing me the indignities vampires engaged in nightly?
Skartovius crouched in front of the man and pulled out the gag. He slapped him lightly, silencing his whining. “Tell me what you know of the vampires who attacked me in my home.”
Genuined confusion twisted the man’s features. He sputtered a few times. “F-Fuck you, bloodsucker! I don’t know nothing ‘bout no Buvers. You’re all sick bastards!”
Skar remained unmoving—
Even when the man spat in his face.
Lord Ashfen didn’t react as the spittle dripped from his chin. He reached out calmly and stabbed a long fingernail into the man’s tunic. There was a quick splitting sound, a red splotch stained the dark green tunic near the man’s stomach.
The man gawked, writhing in pain. “Agh, fuck, it hurts!”
“It’ll be over soon if you answer me, cur. Your outfit,” Skartovius said. “What was the purpose of bringing so many stinking gutter-rats to my shadowgala, when only one of you was scheduled to fight in the pit?”
“I d-don’t know!” His face was drenched with sweat now, the red stain growing larger as Skartovius kept his finger pierced in the man’s belly.
Bile rose in the back of my throat. I refused to look away. Truth was, I wanted to know the answer to that question also.
“You h-have to ask Dimmon!”
“Your liege.”
“My what?”
Skartovius sighed. “Your boss.”
The man’s head bobbed profusely. “Or Bay, if y-you bloodsucker’s hadn’t killed him first.”
The vampire lord glanced up and over at Garroway, who simply shook his head and shrugged.
For once, I had an answer they didn’t have.
“The vampire’s didn’t kill Baylen,” I said from the back in a grim, clipped tone. “I did.”
All four pairs of eyes turned to me. The huge vampire looked indifferent, but Skartovius and Garroway seemed bemused. Their dinner just looked awestruck.
“Traitorous banshee bitch!” he cried out, more spittle flying past his short beard.
I crossed my arms under my chest. “Trust me, sir, you would have killed him too if you shared the same history with the Diplomats I do.”
He snarled when I fell silent. I would say nothing more on the matter—I owed this prisoner nothing.
He was growing rabid and red-faced. Skartovius unplugged his wound, making the man gasp and whimper while blood trickled down Lord Ashfen’s finger.
“We can’t learn anything from this swine,” Garroway said.
“You’re right,” Skartovius answered easily.
Without preamble or warning, the nobleblood dipped his chin and tilted his head. A cavernous sound left his mouth as he bit into the side of the man’s neck.
The man howled. He writhed, staring past Skartovius and the others to me. I grimaced, ready to turn away from the gruesome feeding frenzy, but I knew I had to keep watching and complete my oath to myself.
The man’s eyes began to roll wildly as, I suspected, he succumbed to the lustful sensation a victim felt while being drained by a vampire. Grotesquely, I noticed an erection beginning to build against the man’s pants.
Garroway kneeled on the other side of him and bit into an equidistant spot on his neck. Vallan watched for a moment before coming at him from the front, completely blocking my view of the Diplomat as he gasped and cried for his mother.
