Thrall of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 4) by Bella Klaus (namjoon book recommendations txt) 📗

nerves like pitchforks. I turned to the window and stared out at the clouds.

“King of Lies, thank you,” he said.

“Get out, or I’ll go back to sleep and ignore you forever.” Out of the corner of my eye, the mist drifted over the bed. My jaw clenched. “I didn’t invite you to get cozy.”

The cloud that was formerly the Demon King retreated to the footboard, hovering outside the bed like unwanted flatulence. “Very well.” He sounded offended, but I no longer gave two shits. “Kresnik reduced my physical form into ash—”

“Why don’t you go back to Hell and get a new one?” I asked.

“Judging by the lackluster performance I witnessed earlier in the week, I’m not surprised you need an explanation on how physical bodies are made. Was that your first time?”

Prickly heat burned my cheeks, and I clamped my lips shut. My chest heaved from rapid breaths. This was another form of gaslighting. Just because I didn’t blow sparks out of my ass or turn somersaults like the demon women he was accustomed to, that didn’t mean I was crap in bed. Valentine had never uttered a complaint—not even as a rude, domineering, drugging-me-senseless-with-his-thrall preternatural.

“Good night.” I closed my eyes.

“Wait,” he said.

I inhaled a deep breath, pushing every ounce of irritation down to my diaphragm. Valentine couldn’t keep me like this forever. Eventually, he would work out that I needed to eat, and I’d be free of this pest. A yawn tore from my lips, and I slipped further down the bed. Hades, or whatever he wanted to call himself, could go to hell.

“Alright,” he snarled. “When Kresnik destroyed my body, he separated my ashes into five jars. One of them is hidden in this room.”

I exhaled. This was interesting, but none of my concern.

“Are you awake?” he asked.

“Vaguely,” I murmured.

“I need you to collect my ashes into a single pile so I can resurrect.”

“Why would I do that?”

He spluttered. “What did you say?”

I cracked an eye open. “The last time we met, you were ranting about tearing out my soul. You also wanted to drag my friends into Hell.” He took a deep breath, presumably to utter a denial, but I raised a finger. “Actually, the last time I saw you, Valentine was kicking your ass.”

Hades snarled, which was an effort considering his cloud of mist was only a seventh of his bodily remains and had no throat. “I will make it worth your while.”

My eyes narrowed. “How?”

“There’s a certain object you want,” he said in a voice as slippery as massage oil. “An organ that goes pitter-patter being held in a jar?”

A breath caught in the back of my throat, and hope filled my chest, but I smoothed all traces of excitement from my features. The last thing I wanted was for the Demon King to know how much I needed that heart.

“I know its location. I will also help you hold down King Valentine as you reunite him with his heart and burn him into ashes.”

My throat thickened, and my chest tightened with a tight band of desperation that squeezed all the air from my lungs. “What do you want in return?”

“All I ask is that you reunite my ashes.”

“And you’ll return with even more demons and drag everyone in the Flame to Hell?”

“I would be gracious enough to save you and your closest companions,” he said, sounding like he was doing me a favor.

“No.

“What?”

I clenched my teeth. One of the jars must have cracked early on, giving him enough time to travel throughout the Flame as a disembodied spirit, analyzing Kresnik’s manpower, soaking in his strategies, and examining the wards. If I returned Hades to his former self, he would bugger off with that information and return with a legion of warriors to overpower everyone and claim their souls.

Kresnik might be an evil bastard that needed culling, but the people who followed him didn’t deserve an eternity in Hell just for being born with the wrong kind of magic. I wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone, not even Jonathan.

“Miss Griffin?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Give me time. I don’t like you and I trust you even less.”

“Hurry up,” he hissed. “It’s only a matter of time before Kresnik manages to—”

A knock sounded on the door, making my heart leapfrog into the back of my throat before falling into my chest with a hard splat.

“Who’s there?” I asked.

“Our Lord is concerned about your continued absence from training,” said the voice of Aurora.

My lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ve been a little tied up.”

Hades snickered, and I flicked my head to the side, indicating for him to hide before Aurora barged in. He got the hint and returned beneath the bed like a bogeyman.

The older woman didn’t say anything for several moments. I couldn’t tell if it was because she thought I was using a figure of speech or because she was scandalized at the bondage talk.

“Come to the door,” she said.

My eyes narrowed. What was she, a preternatural needing an invitation? “I literally can’t get off this bed.”

The door opened, and Aurora poked her head through the gap. Her gaze wandered to the fabric tied around my wrists, and her mouth fell open.

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. Nothing Valentine and I could do could ever match what she did with Father Jude and Kresnik. “What is it?”

“Our Lord wishes you to participate in an urgent mission.”

Chapter Eight

I glowered at Aurora, who froze at the door, still wearing that scandalized expression of wide eyes and a slack mouth. With the thrall still affecting my vision, I couldn’t tell if her lips were moving, but the distant rasps of her breaths told me she was trying to process all fifty shades of what was taking place in Valentine’s bed.

Raising my chin, I stared back at her with blazing defiance. If Aunt Arianna had seen me like this, I’d probably crumble into a flurry of explanations, saying that Valentine had never tied