“Perfect.” Marius rose to his feet and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Then we should talk about who I’m bringing with me…”
Ravenwood Dungeon
Being imprisoned not once but twice in the span of a month had been extraordinarily low on Vivienne's list of things she envisioned for herself when she accepted the position as the prince's bodyguard.
In fact, she might argue that this was the worst possible outcome that could’ve happened to her, save death itself. And while she was grateful King Sebastian had spared her life, she was all too aware that he could order her killed at any moment.
The stones of Ravenwood Dungeon were at her back, frost crept along the floor, and the air was cold, even for a vampire. Her cell was windowless, and the faint glimmer of violet light from down the corridor was the only source of illumination in this dark place.
She wasn’t sure how long had passed since she’d first been thrown in here. Other than the guards who sporadically made their rounds through the prison, no one spoke or looked at her. They’d left the prohiberis collar around her neck, and it matched the bars of her cell.
Resting her head against the stone wall, she stared at her cold fingersthrough hooded eyes. Her nails were broken, and her fingertips were turning blue. She didn’t even know that could happen to vampires.
A mouse scurried over Vivienne’s feet, the small brown rodent darting into a hole in the nearby wall.
She didn’t bother screaming. What was the point? She was alone.
Instead, she sighed, letting the prison’s morbid symphony wash over her. Moans rose through the air, intermingling with screams and cries.
Vivienne didn’t join in.
She was in too much pain.
Her fangs were burning flames in her gums, and her stomach was a hollow pit. At first, it had cramped and gurgled, begging for even a drop of blood, but now it had fallen into a heavy silence that was louder than any sound could’ve been.
Some vampires could survive weeks or months without food, but Vivienne was still relatively young and needed blood.
That incessant need to satiate the dark monster in her soul was worsening by the hour. It was all she could think about, all she could feel.
She probably should’ve been worried about other things, like her dwindling odds of survival or the feral vampire that had escaped Hoarfrost Hollow, but they all paled when compared to her desire for blood.
Vivienne would do or say anything for a single crimson drop. Even when she’d been a Fledgling, her hunger hadn’t been so all-consuming.
Her eyes slipped shut, and she drifted between waking and sleeping. Time passed, but she didn’t bother keeping track of it. What good were minutes or hours when her hunger was worsening?
She couldn’t help but think about the Firsts entombed in their stone coffins. Was this how they felt, slowly starving as the centuries dragged on? She couldn’t imagine living for an eternity with this kind of crippling pain. Death would surely be better.
Vivienne was dreaming of sinking her fangs into a neck—any neck, atthis point, she wasn’t picky—when footsteps whispered on the stone floor outside her cell.
It was probably a guard.
She kept her eyes closed, content to remain in this dark place that was her mind. The guards would move on. They always did. Hunger was her only constant companion.
“Viv,” someone whispered outside her cell.
That voice.
Was she losing her mind? Maybe she was so hungry that she’d started hallucinating. It made sense that she would eventually lose the ability to think straight, although she’d hoped she would last longer than this.
But maybe not.
Maybe this was the end.
“Viv,” the voice said, louder this time.
It sounded real. Could it be real?
She opened her eyes slowly, unsure what she’d find. Her vision adjusted to the darkness, and she gasped.