Page 48 of Dhampira

Grunting, Lorcan thrust the spear deeper, pinning the merman to the ground. Blood spurted from the wound and flowed over his chest. The merman grasped at the spear, his broken cry warring with the waterfall’s cadence.

I barely heard it. My senses narrowed to the rich, dark blood streaming down the merman’s ribs. It spread under him in a sparkling pool. The scent hit me, salt and sugar coating my throat and lungs.

My fangs shot down. I hurled myself onto the merman, pressing my body flat against his as I buried my fangs in his neck. Blood hit my throat.

Ambrosia. I’d never get enough. The world fell away, a dozen colors spinning behind my closed lids. Deep in my mind, the monster howled, its hunger finally, finally assuaged.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. With every surge of blood, the merman’s heartbeat pounded in my head. The pain in my hand disappeared, along with every other ache and inconvenience. My senses sharpened, new colors appearing in my head. Rich blues. Vibrant greens. Splashes of yellow like the sun. And over everything, an endless river of dark, dark red.

BOOM. I followed the drum, chasing the flowing river, because who knew when I’d get to taste it again? I’d been hungry for so long. The river flowed downward, spiraling into a vast sea teeming with life and hidden kingdoms. Sleek marine creatures with sharp teeth and round eyes. Colorful coral. Waving fronds tossed by the currents. The water grew darker. Went deeper.

But I couldn’t stop sinking. More, a silky voice whispered in my mind. Why not go deeper? Currents beckoned and I followed, chasing the bottom of the sea. Faces flitted through my mind. Old battles rose and fell. Sorrows and triumphs spun past my eyes. MORE, the voice roared.

BOOM…

The drum in my head stuttered. Darkness huddled at the edges of my mind and then smeared over the sea.

Pain exploded in my head. A second later, sunlight exploded in my face. Gasping, I flailed against Lorcan as he dragged me backward, his fingers digging into my jaw.

The merman sprawled on the riverbank with his arms flung wide. The spear protruded from his chest like a gruesome flagpole. His skin was white as chalk, his tattoos more prominent against the stark absence of color.

My back hit something hard and then Lorcan knelt in front of me, blocking my view of the merman.

“Get control,” Lorcan growled, digging his thumb into the back of my wrist. Pain shot to my elbow.

“Ow!” I tried to jerk away from his grip, but he continued digging, his gaze locked with mine. I tugged harder. “You’re hurting me!”

He dropped my hand. Slowly, awareness returned. The waterfall pounded behind him. I sat against a tree with my skirts spread around me. Lorcan braced his weight on one knee pressed into the riverbank’s sand. Water droplets clung to a lock of hair that had slipped its bond to spill over his shoulder.

“Better pain than death,” he said. “You followed him too far.”

The merman. Panic rising, I leaned around Lorcan.

“No,” he said, catching me by the shoulders. He forced me back, his grip uncompromising. “It’s too late.”

My heart stopped. For a second, I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t make my tongue form words I didn’t want to say. “He’s…Is he…?”

“Yes.” Lorcan lifted my hand. With deft fingers, he worked open the laces at my wrist and pushed my sleeve up. Faint tattoos spread up my forearm, the designs like rolling waves. Head bent, Lorcan ran a finger over the ghostly pattern. “But it appears you’re not a lost cause after all, Princess.”

My breath wheezed out. Murderer. I was a murderer. The tattoos weren’t mine. I’d stolen them, just as I’d stolen the merman’s life. The blood in my stomach curdled, threatening to come up. A fierce ache bloomed in my chest. As I struggled to catch my breath, heat climbed up my throat and turned to fire. Crying out, I slapped my hand against my neck and felt…something.

Warm air coasted over my fingers. With another cry, I yanked my hand down.

Lorcan grasped my chin and forced my head to the side.

“What is it?” I asked, beginning to shake. But I knew. As I drew a shuddering breath, a second breath gusted from my throat.

Gills. I’d stolen the merman’s gills.

Lorcan turned my stare back to his. “You called me a monster,” he murmured. Dark eyes gleaming, he brushed his fingertips over the slits in my neck. “Looks like you’re a monster, too.”

10

Rasimir’s private dining room was as impressive as the rest of the Drakhold. Lorcan and I dined alone with him, our chairs flanking his seat at the table’s head. Servants brought out the second course.

A wall of windows allowed evening light to flood the room, purple twilight spilling over the long, polished table and chairs covered in plush red velvet. A fire crackled in the hearth. An ornate carpet stretched in front of the blaze. More gold sparkled on the table—gold plates, gold cups, gold cutlery. Even the salt cellar was gold, Rasimir’s serpent wrapping around the base.

The table, large enough to seat fifty, groaned with food. Servants streamed in and out, exchanging soup bowls for platters of roasted meat, steaming pies with butter-glazed crusts, and bowls of vegetables spiced with saffron and ginger.