MONTO

face and neck with an unused bucket and sponge, scrubbing the last vestiges of Annabella's humiliation off my skin. I had to swallow the last

ning mask. I slipped into the industrial basement. No way was

oiled Vita-Mix, stale mortal blood, and the disgusting, sticky-sweet vampiric pheromones. I fought the rising gorge, the synthetic blood-tea t

hrows were tossed into a sodden, putrid heap in the corner. Worst of all was the trail of used blood packs-the Cla

rate their

undry. My internal rage was a tight, cold knot: these vampires were so wasteful they n

n's medical lab and put them on. I started prying the used blood pack

e began to vibrate. Whispered

voice that was a constant mix of seduction and mort

ising, Sire. One mor

ow many Fledglings are in this cycle? Ho

reached the proper age would attempt their Ascension, the moment they claimed their full lineage powers. I

door, my heart hammering a c

was colder, more surgically brutal than the Sire's. "And t

sing the cycle; they were using my name. My

been monitoring. Her blood sc

iff. I didn't smell like the expensive Nightshade perfume purebloods f

n stone. "What in the Abyss are we going to do with her?" His v

d chilling: "We make her fight her

ng, rasping cough. "She has no true place here. That is

e-a sound of raw frustration. "We should hav

didn't recognize that voice, bu

er. "Even the dregs have a purpose in this world. We simply have to defin

barbaric torture, the ultimate erasure of a vampire's will

cension was meant to be a moment of glory, a claim to power. For me, it had been t

just survival; it was to use this Ascension week to become the weap