CHAPTER 4

Rune would never admit it aloud, but his existence was lonely. Leaning against the railing of the balcony, he glanced down at the masses who crowded the courtyard below him. The night garden was in full bloom, lending its sweet fragrance to the air. His gaze rose to the Hunter's Moon. It sang to a vampire's bloodlust, driving the desire to drink or for sex to a fever pitch.

Rune never experienced such a pull. Not once in over three thousand years. He dreamt of reaching his twentieth year in his youth, wanting to feel it. He heard stories of how blood tasted richer.

Vampires warned when he drank beneath the Hunter's Moon. It would ruin him, that he'd crave it until the following year when he could once again drink under the sway of the moon.

They described sex in the same way. That he should find an accommodating female vampire, so on edge, a brush of his fingers in the right place would bring her off.

"I brought you fresh blood since you're obviously not partaking," a woman said. But Rune knew that voice anywhere. Her scent of honey and citrus, covered with perfume deemed popular by the nobles for the time being, filled the space they stood in now.

"Ignoring your guests?"

The string quartet below played an eerie and sensuous melody. It was a hypnotic trance lulling its prey to dance. Rune turned around, his eyes narrowing at her perfect appearance, taking the offered glass. He didn't participate in the showy preening for the houses and courts established in wealth or nobility. Lyssa seemingly thrived on it, relishing the opportunity to lord her status above others. From her silvery satin gown, tailored for this occasion, to her rich brown hair painstakingly pinned and styled. Despite her outward perfection, Lyssa's emotions tasted as they always did.

A lusting want soured with fear. He tasted a variation of this on every woman he'd come across. Some men as well.

Rune secretly longed for a woman who didn't fear him. But after century upon century of disappointment and embarrassment, he ceased looking. He was a Pure Blood, separated from the dancing fools below him as the turned vampires were from their originating species. They were vampires, turned who transitioned in death with vampiric blood in their system.

Pure Bloods were gifted with many abilities: strength, speed, heightened senses, and the ability to taste the emotions of those around them. But cursed with true bloodlust, far greater than the shadowed urges the turned felt.

The Ra'Voshnik was an entity separate from himself yet existing within him. The balance for his dark gifts tied him in a shared existence with a volatile creature he kept subdued.

"I think half of my guests only attend to catch a glimpse of you." Lyssa glanced in his direction momentarily before returning her attention to the masses.

He found crowds to be exhausting and lived a secluded, private life. When he was forced to attend a public gathering, the Ra'Voshnik picked up the scent of fear, fixating on what it considered prey. Which subsequently moved Rune to mentally hold its murderous urges at bay.

"I believe they are here in hopes of catching the attention of a darker court." Rune spared Lyssa a passing glance before teasing, "Or perhaps they wish to taste your wares." He could feel her glaring at him but continued to watch the vampires below. A bell tolled behind them, carrying across the courtyard.

"I should cut out your insolent tongue."

Rune knew he was undoubtedly a curiosity rarely seen in the flesh, but their presence at Lyssa's ball had nothing to do with him. This was a chance to see and be seen by other dark established courts.

Courts were a means of protection, typically forming around and led by a woman. Lyssa's mother, Belind, decreed a single law during her rule as High Queen of Necromia. Rape was punishable by death. The sentence was carried out by the ruler of the realm. Any other dispute, including murder, was to be resolved between the courts. Belonging to a strong court meant protection. Safety. Power.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. "You like my tongue when I care to use it."

He half expected another barb or a possible knife between his ribs. Lyssa quieted, folding her hands on the railing. "Will you see me tonight?"

Rune's gaze lifted to the Hunter's Moon. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He'd been her consort once, over a dozen centuries ago. He tended to her now and again at her request, after he relinquished the title of consort.

More than a decade had passed since the last time he obliged her. She'd taken other lovers but always came back to him. His attempt to make light of their past prompted her to ask him to visit her bed.

"I think you should find a man who feels the same way toward you, that you feel toward him." He wasn't purposefully being unkind. This was for the best.

It didn't matter how well she masked her fear or schooled her expression. He could taste it on her. And with the taste of fear, his body refused to respond. The part of him she wanted most held no interest. He could service her with his hands and mouth, but she deserved more than that.

He deserved more than that.

"I am sorry." He brushed the back of his fingers over her arm.

"Thank you, Shadow Prince." She kept her eyes forward, standing tall. Regal. Dismissing him with his title.

Rune inclined his head. "High Queen."

Leaving the glass balanced on the railing, he phased away from Lyssa, materializing near the food station. This late in the evening, the blood whores would be engaged in—

Someone fell into him, elbowing him just under his ribs. His fangs lengthened with aggression as the Ra'Voshnik charged to the surface in a rush hungry for violence.

It bled through his eyes, coloring them a deep crimson as veined misted shadows crept from beneath his gaze, swaying over the tops of his cheekbones. A trait received when the original Pure Bloods drank the Darkness. It tore through their systems, transforming them.

Rune turned, seeing no one as a pair of footfalls retreated away from him. A scent carried to him, clean and subtle. A night breeze through plum blossoms. His fangs sharpened as an unfamiliar feeling settled over him.

Vsenia, the Ra'Voshnik purred deep in his mind.

His brow lowered in concern. Vsenia was High Tongue, loosely translated to cherished beloved. He'd grown used to the constant stream of aggression, the Ra'Voshnik whispering from the recesses of his mind he'd chained it to. Never in all his years had it behaved in this manner, thrashing wildly against his hold, urging him to find her. A loyal dog eager to get back to its master.

Rune leashed the Ra'Voshnik, cruelly tightening his hold until it fell silent. He listened, tracking the slowing footsteps until they stopped near the fountain he'd wager. He waited for the sight shields to drop, impatient for his first glance of the dark-blooded vampire who unwittingly brought the Ra'Voshnik's viciousness to heel.

He lifted his chin and inhaled as his lids slid shut. Her scent calmed his mind, sharpening his focus until she was all that remained. A long-forgotten feeling snaked through him. Rune opened his eyes, focusing on the place she stood, wrapped in a sight shield.

Movement caught his attention, and Rune cursed. Delilah stood within his line of sight, just beyond his true interest. She raised her glass at him and smiled coyly. The dark-haired queen made his skin crawl. She ruled over the Court of Lace and Bone, a ruthless court that had a reputation for their sadistic appetites when they warred and captured rival courts.

Rune ignored her invitation, uncaring if he offended her. She could send her court for him if she wished. He would send them back to her. In pieces.

He turned, heading to a quiet, darkened alcove and Lyssa's voice pulled him from his musings.

He looked toward the balcony as she used a spell to carry her voice over the courtyard. She held up the glass he left on the railing in salute, reciting pretty words Belind once used. The festivities concluded with a wish to the Darkness, a tradition honoring the creation of the Pure Bloods.

He'd been a fledgling eager for his first centuries of life the last time he participated in this ancient ritual. Rune bowed his head and closed his eyes, his mind descending within himself.

Possessing a soul shard tied the mind to a great psychic ravine, allowing individuals to turn inward and descend to the depths of their power, to a space beneath the physical world—a private intangible place within themselves where it was stored and drawn. Within the ravine that cradled the Darkness were a few shared spaces. Pure Blood's birthplace being one of them.

His shoes sank into the fine white sand as he materialized in the small cove. A steep cliffside rose out of sight to his back, and before him, the Darkness ascended in a towering wall.

It raged and coiled in on itself. Black, pulsating mist. The outer wisps and tendrils lined in a deep glowing purple. Rune listened to the low roar as it coiled onto itself and took the subtle mental shift to stand at the depth of his power.

I wish for an equal.

Rune mentally projected the words as he did each year during his first few centuries, hoping to be answered by a dark-blooded vampire who would match him in strength. He ran his hand over his mouth, feeling the accumulation of his many years.

He'd made a choice long ago during his first century. As he matured into what he was and the power he wielded, he saw two clearly defined paths before him: embrace the lessons and training that forged him into a terrifying weapon for his court's arsenal or squander his gift and strength to prove he wasn't a threat. Live as every other man, building a life with a partner he would trust and be devoted to.

He'd chosen the former, becoming the deadliest soul to walk the realms.

He thought of the life he had forsaken from time to time. Envied people who'd found their partners. Useless thoughts that pained him when he let his mind dwell. Knowing if he had to choose again, his choice would remain the same.

His mind wandered to his night breeze and he found himself full of questions. What had she wished for? What court did she belong to? Would his interest fade as the Hunter's Moon set? Rune couldn't decide if he wanted the feelings she stirred in him to stay or fade with the night.

He ascended, returning to his physical body, and opened his eyes.

The balcony was empty, and the night concluded. Guests would linger for another hour or so before returning to their courts and estates. Rune scented the air for his night breeze.

A mental sending struck his mind hard enough to make him flinch.

I can hear you, but you're no equal to me.