Beast of the Damned #2

*Chapter Twenty-Six*

~ TRISTAN ~

Cherry. Red. Crimson. Scarlet. Rose. Maroon. Ruby. The list goes on, decorating the walls, the ceiling, and the stone floors of Valderanna. It trickles and pools, sprays and splats, and glistens like the drenched steel at my side scraping along the ground, waiting for the next victim to cross our path. It doesn't matter. Slave or vampirie. Elder or fledgling. The Beast of the Damned is coming, blood-soaked and satogenicly pissed off.

When I enter the room, The Council doesn't stay seated. The pool of blood that preceded me interrupting what may be the last seconds of their life as it flowed beneath the door like a river of prophecy they'd do well to heed.

A howling yelp like that of a yowler demon pierced beneath the arm reverberates off the sleek walls, my sword sticking through an elder council member from the Kazimier bloodline's foot. The youngest Zoric member has the displeasure of meeting the corrupted blade I've already baptized in the blood of our kind.

Splat goes the rodent who tries to scurry away.

"It seems you left out imperative details during our last discussion." I leave my sword in Vaden Kazimier's foot, stepping out of the pool of blood that has caught up to me. "Until a resolution is reached, no one is leaving. Unless they'd like to fill in the missing tones. I do believe the walls are missing some of the more ancient shades of red."

"You can't barge in here doused in the blood of our own and demand an audience." The chair Kalista sits in screeches against the floor. "You chose to leave while the Prince was speaking. Have you no—"

"I said, sit!"

Kalista's objection to my blatant lack of respect for vamperial hierarchy is met with an energy burst from my sword that has Vaden Kazimier spraying the room. Nothing left of him but burgundy vampire shrapnel, a fate he and Lucian shared.

Kalista sits, not wiping off the speckles of blood splatter dotting her otherwise pristine face. She keeps her palms on the very table she slammed them against in her attempt to try and put me in my place.

This starving mutt has more bite than she bargained for.

"What details did I leave out that warrants this gory entrance?" The Dark Prince saunters up the steps over to his throne, leaving The Council, the commanders, and his mates at the discussion table. "Have I not given you everything you asked for?" He sits, legs spread wide as he slouches comfortably. "You asked for Kinley's freedom, and I named Cora and Adalynn as the next massarra. What more could you want? I can't make Kinley love such a monstrous soul as yours."

"How long have you known?" Venom thickens my words, the smell of the slain clinging to my casual armor rancid. Vampire flesh rots fast once our lives have been cut. The older the vampire, the more odious end.

"Known what?" The Prince of Darkness's attention diverts from me to my mother as Thron helps her up the steps and over to the throne on his right side.

"That Kinley is the vessel."

"Vessel of what?" The Prince rests his chin on the back of his hand, appearing bored as he returns his attention to me. "Your unclaimed desires? My son's endless infatuation? The winged-bitch that resides in her? Kinley is a vessel of many things."

"Our Maker's vessel." My back teeth threaten to crack amid the pressure of my fury.

"Oh, that." His mouth curves into the faintest smile as his eyes gleam.

The best way to calm an enraged vampire is to give them the opposite of what they seek. No reaction. It's in grained in us to feed off the emotions of others, but here he can't help himself.