Somewhere throughout the ages he’d heard about a species of bird that mated for life. If one of the pair was killed and their body left to rot, the other bird would inevitably come to it, day after day, trying to revive its mate.
He was that idiot bird. Not knowing when to quit. Not believing he could.
Andre’s eyes flashed. He might be that stupid bird, but he was also a vampire; he could revive her. But her injuries …
Don’t think about it.
His eyes moved to the dagger still in her heart. He grasped the hilt and pulled it out, grimacing at the sucking noise the flesh made as it released the weapon. Déjà vu washed over him. He’d done the same thing only months before, when another dagger had missed Gabrielle’s heart and embedded itself into her shoulder.
She’d recover like last time. She must. He had to believe this, or else he wouldn’t survive this night.
He bit his wrist and held it to her lips. Only a couple drops of blood dripped into her parted lips before the wound stitched itself back together. That wouldn’t do.
Someone stepped away from the huddled group. Andre gave the figure a sparing glance and growled low in his throat. The individual was shaking their head, their lips moving.
“They come any closer, you shoot them, Oliver,” Andre said, nodding to the being. He couldn’t see or hear the fairy’s reaction, so he could only hope Oliver didn’t choke up.
Andre still held the ceremonial dagger in his hand. The weapon meant to kill Gabrielle would now coax her back to life. He slashed the knife down his forearm. Blood gushed out from his wound, and he tilted is arm so that the rivulet of blood dripped into her mouth.
The cloaked figure blurred, and then they stood right before Andre. His lips drew back and he bared his fangs and growled low.
This filthy murderer dared to interrupt him?
Over the music, he heard the sound of a gunshot. The being in front of Andre didn’t flinch, but someone in the clustered group staggered and then fell.
At least the fairy had hit something.
The being in front of Andre grabbed his wrist and yanked him away from Gabrielle. He stumbled from the force of their strength, and he howled in outrage.
The ground beneath them shook as Andre’s closed fist snapped out and connected with flesh. The figure’s hold on him loosened.
Save your soulmate, his instinct screamed at him
Andre threw another punch—one powerful enough to snap a person’s neck—and jerked his arm from the being’s grasp.
He ran back to the altar, dust and dirt sprinkling him from above. At the back of the room, another cloaked figure was inching forward. If they tried to escape, more would follow.
Not acceptable.
In one fluid movement Andre pulled a throwing knife from its sheath, aimed, and released it. He didn’t have to look to know it sliced open the individual’s throat. They’d bleed to death in a matter of minutes and join the other bodies scattered around them.
Turning his attention to Gabrielle, Andre grabbed the ceremonial knife once more. He opened another vein and let his blood trickle across Gabrielle’s lips. Need to revive her.
And again that same annoying being yanked him away from Gabrielle too soon. He roared his rage. Around him the ground shook violently and the walls lurched. Some of the remaining cloaked figures grabbed for the wall while others fell.
Slowly Andre turned to face the cloaked figure, his hair beginning to lift. Never had he encountered a being that could deter him whilst he was on the edge of that mindless rage, and he could only think of one supernatural capable of that show of strength.
A deity.
“Ah, here we are.” The devil gestured to a grand dining hall. He tugged on my hand, the action unsettlingly gentle.
Morta’s words ran through my head again. I wondered if my perception had changed his behavior, or if his behavior was changing my perception. I rubbed my head.
“The dead don’t get headaches in hell, consort.”
When I dropped my hand, the devil gazed at me with open curiosity.
Stop being so nice to me. It was on the tip of my tongue, but I refrained from saying the words because I knew that in response he’d say, okay, and then proceed to beat the living daylights out of me. Even if he was trying a different angle with me, he was still the devil.
The devil raised an eyebrow at me, as though he’d listened in on my thoughts, and a sly smile blossomed along his face.
I ignored him and glanced around me. “My wedding present is … the dining room?”
The grin on his face grew. “Not quite.” He released my hand and approached the dining room table. On it was a single object, a chalice made of gold and decorated with precious jewels. Something about it had me stepping forward.
My nostrils flared as I gazed at it, and absently I rubbed the area over my heart.
“This,” the devil said, lifting the goblet into his hands, “is yours.”
My eyes were riveted to it. The smell was heavenly. Whatever lay inside drew me in like a moth to flame, and I took several more steps towards the chalice.
“Why wouldn’t I accept this gift?” I asked, wonder filling my voice. I couldn’t look away from it to spare a glance at the devil.
“None at all. Here,” he said, when I reached him, “it is yours, consort.”
He handed me the golden cup, and I got my first good look at what lay inside it.
Blood.
Chapter 28
Andre kicked the cloaked figure, throwing all his unearthly fury into the hit. The kick blasted the being across the room. Their body slammed into the far wall, the impact shaking the castle. Dirt, dust, and chunks of stone rained down from the ceiling.