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This is Sloane & Bastian’s first feeding from his POV. Happy reading!



Months of searching for the monster ripping through the city, and what do we get? A child. A bleeding child. Sloane Cabot couldn’t be older than twenty-three at a push, and she’d cut through most of Ascension, killing rogues left, right, and center. The bounty on her head was more than I’d seen in six months, and Emrys just wanted to give it away?


Our fearless leader wanted to have that little albatross stay.


With us.


On the team.


So she could what? Kill more and get all our heads on the chopping block? So she could endanger the only people I’d called family in centuries? So she could get Simon in even more trouble than he was in already?

Not on my bleeding watch.


Racing up the stairs, I drew slightly on the time magic that made me so much faster in a fight. The only way I’d get to her first was if I was somehow quicker on the draw than an ancient druid and an even older vampire. Pulling on the electricity that flowed under my skin, I formed a ball of magic in my palm and blew the door to Emrys’ office wide.


In a flash, Emrys stood from her chair, her glowing palm batting away my magic so fast it was as if I were the child, the scent of ozone and spent magic high on the air.


Her eyes narrowed on me, her jaw set, her Irish accent rattling inside my head and ears. “You called it, Thomas. It looks like we have a volunteer.”




“Volunteer for what?” I growled at the same time Sloane squeaked out a startled “What?”


She shook her head as she clamped her fingers onto the arms of the chair, her purple eyes glowing in the low light. 


“Get him out of here,” she growled, her fangs lengthening as she licked her lips. “I’ll kill him. Please.”


Tears gathered in her eyes before she squeezed them closed.  


“I’ll kill him,” she whispered, begging now, but I was still stuck on the way she held herself still, the way she fought everything in herself to stay in that chair. And if I were honest with myself, I’d admit that finding her was nothing like I’d thought. She’d been kind to Dahlia. She’d been almost like a…




And if I wanted to really be honest, I’d…


No. She’s a killer. She’s…


Fucking beautiful. Fierce. Like a dangerous flower or a jungle cat. So beautiful and so deadly all at the same time.


Thomas knelt at her knees, his face soft for a second before his usual mask of indifference fell into place. “You won’t kill him. I’ll be here to teach you. I can’t have one of my line murdering arcaners left and right, now can I? If you look like you’re taking too much, I’ll stop you.”


Then reality clicked into place. “You want to let her feed on me? What the fuck, Emrys?”


Emrys shot me a look of censure so bald it was hard not to feel about ten years old. “It’s your penance for attacking her in the holding area, not to mention your insipid tantrum in my office not a moment ago. I gave you a job to do, and you failed. Miserably. You deliberately went against my orders down there and continue to do so with every single bumbling, rage-filled misstep since I brought her here.”


I rocked back on my heels like I’d been slapped. Emrys knew what I’d given up to keep Simon safe. How much I’d sacrificed to make sure he stayed alive. And she wanted to bring a stone-cold murderer into the house?


She was a threat to my brother, the last bit of family I had. She was a threat to Dahlia and Harper. It didn’t matter how awful her story was or how beautiful she was. Sloane Cabot was dangerous. 


“She shouldn’t be here. She doesn’t belong with us.”


“Yes, because everyone in this house has such a sparkling reputation?” Thomas scoffed, the whites of his sclera veining red as he let his fangs descend. 


“I’m not—” I began, but Thomas cut me off.


“Do not lie. She is no different than any of us. Even you. And she needs to know how to feed so she is not a danger to you or your brother or anyone else in this house. Shall I ask Simon to volunteer instead?”


I stepped toward him before thinking better of it. It didn’t matter how much power I had under my skin, Thomas could beat me in a fair fight—or an unfair one as it was prone to be. Stealing myself, I dropped my gaze to the predator fighting the urge to rip my throat wide. 


“I do this, you stay away from my brother.”


“No,” Emrys whispered, the single word like a threat. “She will be a member of our house. She will dine with us—she will fight with us. You and your fears will not stand in the way of that.”


I couldn’t keep her away from Simon, and he couldn’t leave. I’d have to bargain for something else. “Fine. If I do this, she cannot feed from anyone else. Not Simon, not Dahlia, or Harper. Just me. Deal?” 


It was a shite deal, but one I would make for Simon a million times over.


“Excellent,” Thomas purred, his smile one that would haunt my nightmares—if I even lived to have any after this. “Come here, then. I have a feeling if she gets out of this chair, she’ll rip your throat out.”


Sloane winced, gritting her teeth like the thought brought her pain, and that had my steps faltering as I got closer and knelt at her feet. When she didn’t move, I smacked the side of her thigh with the back of my hand. 


Swallowing hard, she widened her legs, and I fit myself between them. Thomas’ iron grip landed on her shoulders, and I forced myself not to think about what being in between her thighs might mean.


She’s a killer.


Thomas went on a spiel about how he wanted her to feed, but I just watched the breaths heave in her chest and her eyes train themselves on my neck and…


She’s a killer.


“I’ll do my best,” she whispered, unable to let her gaze stray too far from my throat.


“Comforting,” I muttered, moving closer as I latched my hands over her forearms, pinning them to the seat. She was dead, right? Then why was she so warm? Why did her heat filter through her clothes into me like she was a tiny little sun? Why…


She’s a killer.


“Bite around the jugular, not through it. Yes?” Thomas advised, and she gave him a cursory sort of nod, her eyes glowing bright as her fangs lengthened in her mouth.


And then she struck so fast she caught me by surprise, her razor-sharp fangs cutting through my throat with the efficiency of a trained assassin. And that heat that had filtered through me before was now a five-alarm fire in my veins, stoking something in me that wanted her closer, that wanted her naked.


She swallowed once, and my cock kicked at my zipper. Right then, it didn’t matter if she was a killer or not. It didn’t matter that her mouth was bleeding me dry. I wanted inside of her. I wanted her naked and under me and moaning into my mouth as she came over and over again.


She swallowed again, and I couldn’t stop myself from grabbing hold of her as the pleasure flowed through me. I needed her right the fuck now. I needed her so bad I couldn’t think straight. 


“It’s time to stop, Sloane,” Thomas murmured, the fucking bastard. He needed to leave. I…


Sloane pulled her fangs back, but somehow my brain was still scrambled. Maybe it was her hand in my hair or the way she gripped my shirt or how fucking good her ass felt in my hand. 


I couldn’t move. If I moved, I’d do something completely daft. Like kiss her or fuck her on the floor of Emrys’ office. The best I could do was rest my head on her chest and try to calm myself down a bit. 


“Lick the wounds,” Thomas instructed, and she stiffened in my hold. “I’m serious. It will help the blood clot faster.” 


Fuck. If she licked me right now…


Then she flicked her tongue at the blood dripping down my neck, and I couldn’t stop myself from clutching her to me, gripping her tighter as a shudder racking my whole body. 


She’s a killer.


Eventually, I released her, gathering myself enough to stand. But I couldn’t leave her—not until she looked at me. Not until I knew what I was feeling was mutual. 


Reluctantly, she glanced up, an almost wince on her face as she waited for whatever insult or threat to come out of my mouth. And why wouldn’t she? That was all I’d done so far. 

She’s a killer.


Doesn’t fucking matter, now does it? You want her, killer or not.


I’d have to come to terms with that at some point, but right then, I knew one thing for certain. Sloane Cabot was mine. She was mine in every way she could be. My blood ran in her veins. My blood sustained her. 


My blood and no one else’s.


She’s a killer.


So are we all.


Her skin had lost its sallow coloring, her cheeks less sharp. I had done that. Me. Blanking my face, I gave her my demand, my reminder, a promise I wanted but probably wouldn’t get.


“No one else,” I growled into the quiet room, relishing the goose bumps that shimmered over her skin as her breath caught. “Only me.”


And the look on her face told me all I needed to know. 


Sloane Cabot was mine. 


She just didn’t know it yet.

Want more in the Soul Reader world?

Next up is Death Watch and all the crazy shenanigans that is to come. I hope you’re buckled in to see Sloane contend with her undeniable bond with Bastian and the mysterious X.

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