CLARE – POV
"Where is Blaze?"
The deep, graveled voice cut through the silence like a knife through soft flesh.
The vampire at the head of the blood-drenched table—Blaze's father, the dark reflection of the only creature who'd ever protected me—didn't raise his voice, but the question coiled in the air like a noose.
There was no warmth in the question. Just that same sharp coldness in his tone, the kind that left frost behind when it touched you. His eyes didn't shift from me as he spoke, like I was some strange, unwanted blemish staining his perfectly crafted world.
It was Lucas who answered.
Of course it was.
With a twisted grin, the blond psychopath slithered beside me, fingers clamping around my arm like a vice. He yanked me away from Thelia—like I was his toy now—and dragged me close to his side. His hand was ice-cold and heavy with sadism. My skin crawled under his touch.
Lucas laughed. Actually laughed.
