“Do it,” she whispers into his ear. “My love, my slave.” She kisses the back of his neck.
Dmitri’s hand trembles as he brings the knife down. He can feel Steven’s pulse without touching him, can hear his heartbeat echoing his own. The water, the water—it’s all he can sense, all he can taste. His throat burns with hunger, with need. He’d heard that higher-Sphere Howls could control their hunger, could remain sentient. Helena swore the runes she carved into him would make him like a Kin, would let him keep his mind, his emotions, his identity.
She lied.
The runes only make him more aware of what he does. Of the hunger he has no control over.
Steven struggles as Dmitri slowly lowers the blade. It feels like a blessing, like the most intimate of touches. It makes Dmitri’s bloodlust rise—that increase in pulse, the terrified patter of the boy’s heart. He barely hears the boy scream as the blade pierces through flesh, shallow first, then deep as the hunger takes over. Red fills Dmitri’s vision. Red fills his lips. His starving Sphere sings, and hunger becomes ecstasy.
Tenn jolted back, surfacing with a gasp. Dmitri pulled him closer. Tenn couldn’t have pulled away; he didn’t want to pull away. Water throbbed inside of him. Everything felt slower, drugged.
Dmitri brought Tenn’s hand to his cracked lips. Tenn didn’t flinch when the bloodling’s teeth sliced into his flesh. Water, Water, Water was all. Dmitri drank, and Tenn fell under the waves.
“Dmitri, please,” Helena whimpers.
“Dmitri is dead, you made sure of that,” he hisses. She struggles against the bonds holding her to the table, but the knots hold strong. She taught him those knots, and he was nothing if not a fast learner.
Everything rages inside of him. Every hurt and hate, every regret. Every hunger. Every guilty drop of blood. Her fault. All her fault. Make her pay for what she did.
“Don’t worry,” he says, leaning in close. “I’ve had practice. I can keep you alive forever if I like. Just like you showed me.”
He digs a finger into her forearm, his nail burrowing deep. Blood pools within the depression. She screams. Tears fall down her face as he leans in and licks up her blood. Her blood, like poison, like honey.
Her blood, like power.
“Stop,” Tenn whispered.
Water fluttered inside of him now, a thin stream siphoning through a tunnel. It didn’t hurt, that loss. He didn’t hurt. Nothing hurt, not even as Dmitri’s teeth dug into his wrist, warmth spilling across his skin. The numbness was a beautiful release. It was freedom.
Tenn slumped down on top of Dmitri. It felt like falling on bones.
“Quiet, kids, quiet now,” Dmitri says. But they won’t stop screaming. They won’t stop crying.
Blood everywhere. On hands and knees, cleaning every drop, licking every drop. But still hungry, so hungry. Not enough blood. Never enough blood. They’re crying blood. The water is never enough. Never enough.
“Shut up!” he yells. They sit in the corner, crying. He runs over to them, smashes in their skulls, but they’re still crying. He kicks their bones, scatters them like sticks, but they won’t stop. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”
He bangs on the door. Locked. Helena had locked it behind her. She’s in the corner, too, sitting by herself. She isn’t crying. She’s stuck with him. Forever. My love, my slave.
He crawls over to her. So hungry. She’d brought down the last of the students—those who were kept behind—ages ago. Weeks. Months. Years. She brought the last. And when that wasn’t enough, he took her.
“Speak up,” he hisses at her. He picks up her skull, stares into her empty eyes. “Speak up.”
Her mouth is open, skin taut, but she doesn’t say anything.
She’d stopped talking weeks ago.
But not the blood.
Her blood still screams, still sings in his bones. She is still with him.
She will never get away.
When he gets away, he will make them pay. He will devour—
Water stopped.
Tenn floated, warm, his arm tingling with pain and pleasure. Red. Warm and wet and red.
“Saving your ass grows tiresome,” Tomás whispered into his ear. A warm hand stroked his face, chilling the spilled blood to frost. Everything was red.
Red, red and black.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”
Dreya’s voice pulsed through the darkness, a wash against the red staining his inner eyelids. He wanted to float there, lost in emptiness, but there was a hand on his skin now, a tingle of magic that swept through his bones. The energy filled his insides with fire and ice. His eyes fluttered open as a shiver racked his body, a shiver that sent lances of pain through his arm.
It took a few moments for the scene to focus.
Dreya knelt by his side, one hand on his chest. Devon stood behind her like a sentinel. Both of them stared down at him, awash in pale white light that filtered from an orb hovering above Devon’s head. The room took even longer to come into view. First the floor, smeared with what looked like black oil, glinting in the light, then the sensation, the wetness, the softness beneath him. His arm gave another twinge. He looked back and nearly yelped.
Dmitri was there, slumped against the wall, his jaw gaping on broken hinges. Dmitri, looking so much more alive than when Tenn came down here. His flesh was full, his chin dripping Tenn’s blood. Much more alive, save for the butcher knife firmly embedded in his neck. Blood slowly dripped off the handle and onto Tenn’s shoulder. Pat, pat, pat. Tenn tried to jerk away.
“He’s dead,” Dreya said. She forced Tenn to stay still. “It’s okay.”
Water was a slow thrum in his gut. It ached, but the damned Sphere seemed to enjoy it. He remembered kneeling there, remembered placing his hand on the corpse’s skin...then the rest flooded back in a smear of pain. He had willingly knelt there and let Dmitri feed off him, all while...what? He relived Dmitri’s own painful past?
What the hell had Water done to him?
Perfect crescent moon gashes were etched deep into his flesh, his bones just visible through the mess of muscle. Before he could lose any more blood, he opened to Earth and sealed off the wounds. The scars welled up pink as flesh knitted itself together. Shivers racked through him the moment he closed off to the Sphere; somehow, he felt even weaker than before.
“You lost a lot of blood,” Dreya said. “You are lucky you did not bleed out.” Her magic flooded him, burning through his veins and spurring his marrow to produce more blood. He shivered uncontrollably, but he’d rather she did this than have to do it himself.
Earth might leave him weak, but there was no way he would trust Water. Not now. How was she able to use it without succumbing to the terrors of this place? How was she not seeing what he had seen?
Tenn looked back to Dmitri, to the knife embedded in his throat. The voice he heard before fainting filtered through his ears. Saving your ass grows tiresome. Tomás had been here. Tomás had saved his life.