Swallow the Moon: A Bloodless Saga, #2

Chapter One

Garrus

I bided my time, counting the sobs of the others as the chilled tile soothed my flushed cheek. The Blessing had settled deep within my veins, leaving me with a ravenous fever and unbearable fatigue. I'd lost my ability to smell - a miracle of the divine, surely, as it had been days since I'd bathed or been able to properly dress my wounds. With teeth throbbing in my mouth and my skin aching for so much as a caress of air, I contemplated how I'd gotten here.

The image of his body, bloodied and limp, crossed my mind and made my jaw clench. I craved violence, but rage would only cloud my judgment. With a steadying breath, I turned my attention to my captors.

They'd been screeching at each other for a while now, speaking in foreign and ancient tongues that humans could no longer recall. I’d stopped trying to make sense of their words and the dead languages they used, focusing instead on their movements and mannerisms. Every so often, one of them would come forward to beat us or cart one of us off to who the fuck knows where.

Anything would be better than this, I thought as I rolled onto my back. The waiting is what sucked. It gave me time to think about this hasty plan, about the agony of my wounds, the feel of my bloody clothes drying on my body, and the reason I’d let these demons capture me in the first place.

To avenge my father.

I forced my thoughts from my dad and the rage that his death had stirred, observing the large room the vampires had housed us in instead. We huddled in the center of a great hall. About twenty of us were chained together as their livestock captives, with the majority too dazed and defeated to even notice where we were. High ceilings arched to meet pewter stone columns that supported them. A bone or two hung from wires that were attached to the ceiling at odd intervals. Even the walls were made of the same smooth stone. The acoustics of the room were incredible. Every scream and muffled cry of anguish echoed, creating a cacophony of despair. Broken glass cabinets and piles of abandoned belongings were strewn around the edges of the large space. Amidst the litter were the exsanguinated corpses of the people who’d been here before me. Fractured limbs, torn flesh, and vacant eyes.

Heels clicked rhythmically across the auction house floor to match the sway of her hips as she stalked toward us. I flinched. My imagination flashed the image of my father’s ruined face across my eyes. The vampire who trailed closer laughed, probably thinking it was fear that had me trembling uncontrollably. After mangling my father's body, they’d left his corpse to fester on the battlefield where they had murdered him. Anticipation tightened my fists and had my lungs pulling for air. I shut my eyes, an attempt to clear the bloodlust that stirred my thunderous heart into a frantic beat. They needed to think I was just another weak human afraid to die.

Her feet stopped at the edge of my vision. I rolled my eyes as she spoke gibberish over me. The others chained to me shirked away in fear, piquing my interest. This was the strongest display of terror yet from these poor souls. What was it about this woman that frightened them to the core? Her foot collided with my side, forcing a grunt through my clenched teeth.

She sneered at me. Her English was shaky and harsh as she said, You smell like shit.

You smell like the rotten flesh you eat, I shot back, internally chastising myself for the lack of control.

I have a plan and getting myself killed now would ruin everything.

She took a step back as we studied each other.

You, she shouted at a guard. Lift this, she ordered as she pointed at me.

The world shifted as hands grabbed at me, pulling me to my feet. The pain of my heels raked a growl from my throat.

Focus beyond it. They can't know I'm injured.

I took a steadying breath as their hands clamped around my arms. Fingers bruised my biceps as they pulled me to my feet. I shrugged off the hands that held me, but the chain latched around my throat choked me. It connected me to the others the vampires had caught and it was so short that I couldn't stand at my full height. Hunched over like a gremlin, I stood there while she scrutinized every inch of my revealed flesh. The queen likes to bed muscular men, which was the other half of my reasoning for being almost naked. Envisioning her touch had my stomach revolting. She pinched and prodded each limb, pulling at the scraps I wore and ripping new holes in them as she examined me far too closely.

It...it looks familiar. She stepped forward again, her nose scrunching as she crowded me.

I had a similar thought as I studied her. It dawned on me, she was their Queen. The pictures we had of her were from various time periods, making it hard to imagine what she looked like today. No one’s survived a meeting with her in the flesh.

I lunged. The suddenness of my attack surprised the room as guards scrambled to grab hold of me. The queen stood there with wide eyes and curled lips with my hand wrapped around her throat.

I was jerked away, my feet fluttering behind me as I shot backward to land on top of the rest of the captives. Scrambling, I tried to find my feet. There were definitely some with the shifter Blessing scattered amongst the prisoners. You could tell if you knew what to look for. It was usually obvious in the eyes. But the ears, skin, and tails could all contain clues as well. The last thing I needed was for a shifter to pick up my scent and spoil my plan. But apparently they were sick of my stink too, as the lot of them pushed and kicked at me until I tumbled from atop them and landed back at the queen's feet.

And a pair of black scuffed boots that hadn't been there before.

How the fuck? No one could sneak up on me, least of all one of these monsters. Her approach had been silent. I hadn't noticed her enter the room while the queen had held my focus.

Yet, there she stood. Pale skin that held the ghost of a smile. Her dark hair fell over her eyes as she scrutinized me from above. Obsidian hair wound into many small braids tied to the crest of her skull. Silver ornaments glimmered in her hair like stars in the sky. She was so pale, pale as the death she had become.

I’d know her anywhere.

Sigríð spoke in a deliberately low tone, I don't very much like the look in this one's eye, my lady.

She was a legend among legends; the vampire responsible for wiping out most of the human race. She worked directly for the king and queen, and led their siege of the country.

The most vicious killer the world had ever known stood at my fingertips.

My blood boiled as I stared into the pale mask of death, aching for a chance to kill the bloodthirsty creature. Her and her followers had fought my father that day and decimated the last of the human rebel army. She was the one who'd murdered my father before the men he led, eviscerating him before tearing off his limbs. The tales of his murder had been explicit enough to give me nightmares.

She snuffed out our hope. Every muscle in my body tensed as I glared furiously at her.

Sigríð considered the queen with a cool gaze, seemingly apathetic about my presence. Nostrils flared as she took a deep breath. Then she spoke, her words soft and only for me.

I can smell your anger, little one.

Fury guided my hands towards her, only to have the steel manacles hold me back as the unforgiving metal dug into my wrists. My eyes traced the chain from my throat to the booted foot she had placed atop it.

The queen sidled up beside Sigríð to scrutinize me. That's it. You are the General's son, yes?

Shit. I was hoping in their arrogance they wouldn't recognize me, at least not so soon. My neck cracked as I craned to study the murderous bitches who loomed over me. I clenched my jaw to suppress my grin as I made my intentions clear. I've come to repay you for what you've done to my father.

The queen's lips stretched over crooked teeth as she loomed over me, studying me as if I were a fresh meal. I should have recognized her from the exquisite silks she wore in the brightest colors.

She's unnaturally striking.

Fog flooded my mind as blood rushed south.

A sight to behold.

I shook my head, trying to clear it of her influence, focusing instead on the rough feel of my clothes scratching my skin. Looking anywhere but her eyes, I found myself staring at her skirt, admiring the deep colors that seemed to shift as the fabric folded and rippled with her movements.

Did she choose the fabrics to draw the eye away from her, to help hide the monster hidden under all of those layers?

With a clear mind, I glanced at her once more. She may have been beautiful once, but not anymore. The patches of hair left were kept cropped to her head, displaying a smattering of scabs and healing scratches. A sore oozed from her neck and her sharp yellowed teeth glistened in the dim candlelight of the room. I shook my head, dispelling the last of the illusion she'd pushed into my mind, and met her gaze once more.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust as she chewed on my words. Yet here you are, chained to the rest of the garbage where you belong.

The ragged pants I wore reeked. My bare chest shuddered as I tried to restrain the urge to kill them all now with my bare hands. Half the point of getting caught and striding in here half naked was to not look like I was the general's son. If I had known how quickly they would recognize me, I'd have worn my armor. I missed its weight, especially lying here with the enemy sneering in my face.

These monsters weren't beautiful with perfect white shiny fangs and glittering skin. No. They could hide it all they want, could use whatever charms they possessed, but in truth they were savage, bloodthirsty, hideous things. The nobility often had swollen, bulbous bodies with skin stretched as if ready to rupture and expel the copious amounts of blood they’d feasted upon. Special abilities, like the illusion the queen had used on me earlier, were few and far between. But when you crossed paths with one who had some inane talent, it always ended with a massacre. Sigríð’s power was exemplary, though no one knew exactly what it was or to what extent she could wield it.

Gritting my teeth, I pressed my skin down into the cool tile floor and tried to calm myself. The plan was to go with the queen. Our last ditch effort was this ridiculous idea of mine to get captured and taken by her. But Sigríð had murdered my father, and killing her would not only avenge him but save more lives in the long term. She was the monarchy's greatest soldier, the reason they'd conquered so much of the continent.

No. The plan was to kill the king and queen. I couldn’t risk everything for a shot at my fathers murderer. It was settled, I was going with the queen. I chose my prey with a grin.

Now to get her to take me with her.

I needed to live long enough for the Blessing to take hold, lending me the strength to destroy as many of these fuckers as I could. Now I only had to reel her in. Fear felt like the wrong emotion to entice her. Perhaps a challenge would sway her.

Unchain me and you'll see what I'm capable of, I growled as doubt wormed its way around my guts.

The violet gems of Sigríðs eyes held me enraptured.

It seems the General's baby is a tad upset about his father's death, the queen cackled.

Sigríð fixed her stoic expression on the queen as she spoke to me. I could send you to meet him, she offered before shifting her gaze to me. You'd like that, wouldn't you, little one?

I lunged, the chains biting into my wrists, as the cries of the other slaves tethered to me rang out. Sigríð's boot delivered a sharp kick to my side before it settled on the back of my neck and forced my body flush to the floor.

I will break you, Sigríð murmured. Like crushing an insect.

Come now, I was considering enjoying the boy. The queen sucked her teeth. He looks like good bed stock.

Bed stock. She spoke of rape and murder as a normal person would a game of chess. I failed to suppress the cold shudder that lanced down my spine. Dying was part of the plan, but the queen's eyes spoke of a fate that might be worse than death.

He's a bit scrawny, clipped a bored Sigríð. My Queen, he does not deserve the glory of your bed or your body.

Sigríð removed her boot from my neck only to press her heel into my hand. Let me show him the same kindness I showed his dear father.

My anger got the best of me as I fought to keep my focus on her. I struggled against the chains, the skin of my hand shredding under the weight of her foot before I gave up. Blood oozed out from beneath the chains and rolled down my arms as I twisted my body to meet the gaze of the monster.

It was Sigríð's blood I wanted most of all. If it hadn't been for her, we could have stood a chance against the vampires. She'd killed so many without so much as a thought.

And my father...

Finally releasing me from her gaze, she turned her head to study the queen with her sharp eyes and an otherwise empty expression as she waited for an answer. The queen seemed to contemplate Sigríð's words as I did my best not to react to the crunch of my bones under Sigríð's heel.

Either way, I'd be killing a monster and helping the last of humanity. But the thought of bleeding in the queen's bed brought my pulse to a deafening roar as a shudder traveled my spine. I was supposed to go with the queen, dammit, and survive long enough to kill her and the king. Lying there, I silently begged Sigríð to take me. The need to avenge my father drowned out every other thought in my skull as I waited for them to decide my fate.

You may have him, The queen decided with a hint of disappointment before stalking away, studying the line of slaves that were chained to me as she moved away from us. But do not kill him. Not yet. He may be fun to bed once broken.

A key was procured. I winced as Sigríð hoisted me up by the chain attached to my wrists and stifled a groan as metal bit into my already bloodied arms. On my knees, I watched as she fiddled with the lock. Some clinks and the chains fell away as her cold eyes met mine. She leaned into me, the smell of spearmint smothering the stink of the humans huddled beside me.

It isn't right. I scrunched my eyes tight, shaking my head before looking at her again. She shouldn't look this exquisite. Was It a trick? No matter how many times I blinked or looked away, her beauty remained. The lines of her face, the contrasting darkness and light, fueled the rage that simmered within me. She is the face of death.

Taking a fistful of my hair, she brought my mouth within inches of hers and I welcomed the smell of her. Gleaming teeth twisted into a grin as her lips neared mine and she spoke, Litli fíflið mitt. Her smile vanished, and she dropped my body, bones rattling as they connected with the tile floor once more. I bit back a cry, determined to hide all the agony I was in.

She moved impossibly fast, faster than my eyes could follow. Her foot flitted back. A flash of leather caught my eye before pain exploded from my temple throughout my skull. My vision wavered as darkness consumed me.

Chapter Two

Sigríð

He weighed nothing. I carried him through the decaying remains of the museum that the king and queen called home, skirting the mess and gore that littered the place while doing my best not to jostle my unconscious bundle. It'd been a stroke of luck to find the General's son, Garrus. Luckier still to save him from Ada. Bed stock. The term stirred my bile. I've seen what she does with her bed stock.

Picking up my pace, I rushed down the last hall. Olaf would be on his way any minute, determined to play his silly games. The large double doors that led to the street were in sight. All I needed to do was reach them.

Sigríð Stórráða!

My name had me stagger to a halt. I knew that voice. With a breath meant to calm me, I inhaled the stench of my latest rescue. Garrus's mouth opened, and murmured something. Blissfully unaware of the danger he was in, his skin was burning to the touch, and I knew he needed medical attention from the scent of the open wound that festered somewhere on his body.

Sigríð, you'd leave without visiting your King?

I ground my teeth as I placed Garrus in a lump on the cold tile floor. He whimpered before curling in on himself. I kicked him away, rougher than I meant to in my anger. No one can know of his importance. If anyone suspected his significance to me or my plan, then he'd be dead.

I spun from Garrus to meet the greedy gaze of the man who called himself king of the vampires. Olaf stood at the top of the steps, looking down at me with the gleaming eyes of a man who relished his power over others. Guards lined the staircase, watching me with suspicion as I made my way back toward them. Placing a boot atop the bottom step, I met the king's glare with the blank face they knew me for. It was my way of placing myself between him and Garrus, giving me enough room to fight them all if I had to.

Ada was easier to manipulate. The truth of who I had just bought at auction would only truly begin to sink in with the weeks to come. Jealousy and greed ruled Olaf. Which made him stupider, but less predictable and harder to push toward my goal. I opened myself, allowing my power to bubble over into the room so it could feed.

You should bow before your King, he commanded with a grin.

And here I thought we were beyond such frivolities.

It was the same bundle of emotions every time I saw Olaf. He wanted me as much as he hated me. Anything that caught my attention stirred his jealousy. The vampires who stood at attention were all starved and numb, with clenched fists and twitchy eyes. They craved bloodshed as much as the sweet release of oblivion.

Olaf took a step forward, planting his foot on a stair before stopping himself. You deny me. You deny me over and over again with everything I ask of you.

"You don't know how to ask, Olaf. Always taking. You've never asked for a thing in your considerable existence."

He took another step toward me, his grin falling away to show the flicker of something that was close to love stirring in his heart. I asked you for your hand once.

I swallowed the venom that sat on my tongue.

Another step closer to me. He paused to halt his guard, who mirrored his every move. You were my betrothed.

I nodded, the gesture giving me the moment I needed to calm the bloodthirst that raged within me. I was. But you chose your new God over our people, over me.

He lifted his arms. I never thought we'd end up together, here in this world.

"You dragged me into this world. Nothing changes with you. You've created your kingdom in the image of the very same world we used to oppose."

He clutched at the cross that hung from his neck. This world is better than the one we were born into. I have made it in my image. I have saved you from death, Sigríð.

Saved me? You stole me from my destiny. I turned from him and started my way toward the lump-shaped Garrus. You insult me, our gods, and our people, I called over my shoulder. Sweeping Garrus off of the floor, I hauled him up and over my shoulder before making my way toward the exit. I kicked open the double doors,