Twisted Read Free

dead to reclaim his throne. Or rather, Vlad the Impaler was trying to reclaim the throne.
    Aden might be human—emphasis on might —but he was now the vampire king. He’d killed for the right to rule. So, he would be reclaiming the throne. Just as soon as he could wean himself from Victoria’s blood.
    His thoughts, he wondered, or the monster’s?
    His, he decided next. Had to be his. He wanted to be king as intently as he wanted to feed.
    You didn’t before. In fact, he’d been on the hunt for a replacement.
    That was before. Besides, there at the end, I had started to make plans for my people. His people?
    That was the adrenaline talking.
    Yeah? And this is me talking—shut up.
    The footsteps reverberated, closer…closer…
    Victoria ripped her fangs from his neck and hissed at the only entrance to the cavern. Normally, if she were lucid, she would simply compel visitors away before they could step inside. Her voice was powerful, and no one human could resist doing what she commanded. Except Aden. He must have built up an immunity to that voice, because she could no longer work her magic on him. She’d tried, here in the cave, every time the madness had come upon her. Tilt your head, offer your neck… Yet he’d done only what he wanted.
    â€œIf the human comes any closer, I will eat his liver and rip out his heart,” she snarled.
    A threat she wouldn’t see through, Aden didn’t think. These past few days—years?—she craved only Aden’s blood, as he craved only hers. He could always smell the hikers the moment they entered the winding maze of the caves, just as he knew Victoria could, but the thought of drinking from one of them, even to save his life, caused acid and bile to churn in his stomach. And yet, they were the reason he stayed in this location. If he or Victoria ever needed someone else’s blood, whether they wanted it or not, they could get it.
    Footsteps, closer and closer still, hurried now, determined. “Is someone back there?” The man’s voice was slightly accented. Spanish, perhaps. “I mean you noharm. I heard voices and thought you might need some help.”
    Victoria was off the dais, and a second later Aden was smashing face-first into the thin T-shirt she’d used as a cushion. A tall, lanky man with dark hair and skin, perhaps forty years old, stepped into their private sanctuary. Victoria latched onto the human’s shirt, moving so swiftly Aden saw only a blur. The guy’s backpack rattled against his canteen of water. With a flick of her wrist—see?—she flung him deeper inside.
    He landed with a hard thud, skidding backward until he hit the wall. Instinctively he rolled and sat up. Confusion and fear battled for supremacy in his expression.
    â€œWhat—” He held out his hands in a protective gesture.
    Another blur of motion, and Victoria was crouched in front of him, gripping his chin. Aden’s blood dripped from the corners of her mouth. That jet-black hair was a wild tangle around her head, and her fangs extended past her upper lip, cutting into the bottom one. She was a hauntingly lovely sight, as nightmarish as she was angelic.
    Little beads of sweat broke out over the man’s brow. His eyes widened, fear finally winning and glazinghis irises. His chest rose and fell quickly, shallowly, his breath wheezing from his nostrils.
    â€œI—I’m so sorry. Didn’t mean to…will leave…never tell…swear…just let me go…please, please .”
    Victoria continued to study him as if he were a rat in a wheel.
    â€œTell him to go away,” Aden said. “Tell him to forget.” She would despise herself if she hurt an innocent human. One day. Not today, probably not tomorrow, but one day, when their wits returned.
    If they returned.
    Silence. Her fingers tightened on the man. So much so, he grimaced in pain, bruises already branching along