Sloane Briallen

One of the absolute biggest TWs I can ever put in my books.  Graphic rape scene.  If you cannot handle this, please skip to the highlighted sentence below. 

He yanked me toward the dining room table. I screamed as loud as I could.  The walls here were thin, maybe someone would hear.

He slapped me so hard across the face that I tasted blood, my teeth cutting into my cheek.  “Shut up, cunt,” he hissed in my ear, clamping his hand down on my mouth and pushing me face first over the table.  His cologne, something like cherries and leather, filled my nose, choking me.  “You’re going to learn to respect me if it’s the last thing you do.”

My forehead cracked against the surface, and I saw stars.  I heard unzipping, and I shook my head, trying to clear it.  I knew what was coming.  I’d heard enough stories and seen enough bruises and scars. 

I screamed again, but he slapped me across the back of my head.  My teeth hit the table, and blood filled my mouth.  My vision swam, and my head hurt everywhere—my mouth, my forehead, my chin.

Before I knew what had happened, he had my jeans down.

He had one arm around my side and the other against my back.

All the strength, cunning, and expertise I’d thought I’d gotten since my mom died failed me in that instant; nothing I did could stop him from ripping my underwear away.  I couldn’t fight him.

Then there was pain. 

My abdomen exploded, and I screamed again.  I felt something rip, and tears poured down my face.  The pain paralyzed me, and he thrust into me harder and harder.

“This is what you wanted when you disobeyed me, right?” he panted into my ear, his breath a ragged puff of hot, damp air against my skin.  “Because, if you hadn’t disrespected me, this wouldn’t be happening.  Think of it as a lesson.”

I bucked against him but that only made it worse.  The pain was so bad that it was the only thing I could feel below my stomach.  That, and the wetness.

I could see into the kitchen from where I was.  I could see the dripping faucet of the kitchen sink.  The water dripped in time with his grunts.

A fresh wave of tears flowed, blurring out the chrome of the kitchen sink into dishwater grey.  All I wanted was to be home.  I wanted to sit on the couch and play checkers with Mira or go outside and play soccer in the yard with Mikko, Genie, and Frankie.  I wanted to go back to where I was loved and safe.

But I wouldn’t be able to.

He’d been so nice.  It had been wonderful the first few weeks.

And then, I didn’t do exactly what he said after dinner that night.  And he had lost it.

Why was this happening to me?  I’d trusted him.  I’d been searching so hard for someone who cared about me.  I wanted someone who loved me unconditionally.  I’d been so set on it that I’d been completely blind to the monster I let take me away.

Maybe I deserve this.

I woke up clawing for breath, choking on a scream.  I was on my feet before I even knew what I was doing, spinning around, ready to attack him.  As I moved, I heard the squealing of metal.

There was no one there.

I was in a small, cream-colored room.  A single light bulb hung from the ceiling.

I listened as hard as I could, but there was only silence.

I turned slowly, looking around me.  There was a bed in the corner—a thin mattress on a wire frame.  The metal frame was collapsed from me kicking off of it to get to my feet.  The mattress was crumpled but holding firm.

One wall had a door in it, a single metal door with a large window to look out.  The bottom had a small door like you would see in a prison or something.  For food, I guess.

The silence around me was eerie.  I couldn’t hear a single thing.

The pain from my nightmare had subsided, but I still looked down to double check.

I was in one piece.  My jeans were on—still a bit soaked from the snow—and my sweater was in place.  My boots were fine.  Scuffed, but they had always been like that.  Everything was intact.

I reached for my neck, but I didn’t feel anything there except for my necklace.  My mouth tasted metallic, and my muscles ached.

They had used dead man’s blood.  The aftereffects were unmistakable.

But, despite that, I was okay.  I felt okay, and there wasn’t a scratch on me.  My clothes were in one piece and other than being stuck in this room—I checked the handle on the door to make sure—I was pretty comfortable?  My clothes were damp, but warm enough to mean I had been here for a while.  The bed was destroyed, but there had been a bed to begin with.

Where was I?

I didn’t have much time to contemplate it before the adrenaline crashed, and fear crept into its place. 

I pulled the mattress off the destroyed bed frame with shaking hands and set it on the floor, against the wall opposite the bed.  I sat down on the mattress and pulled my knees to my chest, hugging them tightly.

I was knocked out with dead man’s blood.  And then had a nightmare from the night I was . . . hurt.  I reached for the necklace at my throat and gripped it so tight, it cut into my fingers.  It didn’t bend in my hand like normal silver would.

Why was I okay?  Were they waiting for something?  I had to be in the living vampire castle.  It was the only thing that had made sense.  Those vampires had all but accused me of bringing the original vampires down on them.  And I knew they were living vampires.  The mother-of-pearl eyes and black claws in their vampire forms were a dead giveaway.  The quintessential living vampire—their vampire forms were fucking weird and extra.

I needed to ask for Aoife when they came down.  Aoife would make sure I was okay.  She wouldn’t let Mira down like that.  I wasn’t under the living vampires’ protection, but they had to know what would happen to their contract with Mira if they hurt me.  Their queen wouldn’t risk it.

I pulled my knees in tighter to my chest, my gaze on the twisted metal frame of the bed.  Shiny metal.  Like the view of the kitchen sink from when I had been . . .

I squeezed my eyes shut.  I couldn’t let the intrusive thoughts in.  I needed to focus on my current situation, not on my—

“Rape.”

I needed to say it out loud.  If I didn’t acknowledge it, if I didn’t say something out loud about it, it would consume me.  I had learned that years ago in therapy.  It helped me to call it what it was.  Because it hadn’t been my fault.  I hadn’t deserved it.

Everything had been such a mess in the past few months that I had honestly almost forgotten what time of year it was.  It was almost the anniversary of the rape.  I hadn’t been having any nightmares or flashbacks.  In fact . . .

This was the first time I’d had nightmares since I had become a vampire.  Even the previous year, I had been so preoccupied with my grief over Mickey and Bell and with turning into an entire vampire that I hadn’t had a chance to have nightmares.  All of the normal triggers were gone—scents and the time of the year.  Living in Minnesota was a very different experience for me.  It got too cold and dry to remind me of the weather in Phoenix or Port Orchard.

But getting hit by dead man’s blood had brought everything back.  Trauma was cumulative, and I was suffering from it.

I wished Mira was here.  She had spent years listening to my bullshit.  She had let me cry on her for months after I was raped.  She had listened to the memories directly out of my head.  She knew what I had been through.  And while I wished she hadn’t had to experience that, it had helped.  She had given me a level of understanding I didn’t think I could get from anyone else.

I heard the slamming of a gate outside of my door.  It sounded far away, like it was down a hallway.  I didn’t hear footsteps, but if I was truly in the heart of the living vampire castle, I didn’t expect to.  Vampires took pride in how quietly they moved.

I squeezed my legs with my arms one last time before standing up.  I wasn’t going to be found sitting down, a traumatized mess.

Just as a straightened, I saw a dark figure in the window of my door.  I couldn’t make it out, but then the door opened.

The same elderly vampire that I had met in the woods stood there.  Two people stood next to him.  The first was the woman from the woods.  The second was a taller man, but I didn’t catch a look at his face before he turned away and left.

That left me, the old guy, and the woman.

The older vampire glanced in the direction the man had left.  “Aimirgin?” he said, confusion coloring his words.

There was no answer.

Why did that name sound familiar?

“He probably forgot he left the armory unlocked or something,” the woman shook her head.  “Don’t even know why he came down.”

The man shrugged before turning his gaze on me.  “What is your name, child?”

The use of “child” flipped the switch in an instant.

Gloomy, mopey Sloane was gone.  Traumatized, tired Sloane was gone.  In her place was a pissed-off Sloane that bristled at the condescension of some man she didn’t even know calling her “child”.

I stood up straighter.  “Who the fuck are you?”

“Now, you will treat her highness with respect,” the man said.  He didn’t say it angrily, but there was a firmness to his tone that brokered no argument.  “However, you are right.  You have no reason to trust us.”  He smiled.  “My name is Stroud.”

I didn’t like his smile.  It wasn’t particularly malicious, but there was a detachment behind it.  I knew when someone was trying to force trust.  “And what do you do?”

His smile didn’t waver.  “I’m an advisor.”

“To Hazel and Matadi?”

The smile turned slyer.  “You know where you are.”  It wasn’t a question.

“You made it pretty apparent when you asked why I was in the middle of the Rockies.”  I leveled a glare at him.  “If you’re really their advisor, or if she”—I nodded towards her highness—“is really the princess, then tell the queen that you are currently holding one of the White Psychic’s family members in your weird dungeon thing.”

The smile disappeared altogether.  At first, I thought that meant that I had won.  Aoife had been the one to give Mira her title—she said that mythologizing a human with that much power would be one more layer of protection for Mira.  People always had big ideas about myths and legends.  And usually assumed said myths and legends were men. 

Stroud’s smile turned into a thoughtful frown.  “A family member of the White Psychic?  Tell me their name then.”

On a hunch, I said, “Why don’t you tell me the White Psychic’s real name?  We can see if we’re even playing on the same level.”

The good nature cracked ever so slightly.  “I don’t need to prove myself to you.”  His words were icy and made me want to take a step back.

“And I don’t need to prove myself to you.  Either get me Aoife, tell Hazel that I’m down here, or leave.” 

The façade disappeared entirely.  “You call her, ‘her Majesty’.  You are not on a first name basis with our queen.”

“She ain’t my fuckin’ queen,” I snapped back.  “I’m a human vampire.  You have fuck all on jurisdiction.  Why the fuck am I even in here?”  I was finally thinking clearly enough that I was getting angrier and angrier that I was being held against my will.  “Now fucking go upstairs, or wherever the fuck you need to go, and tell some fucking higher up that I am down here, and I should not be.”

“I still don’t know your name,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Sloane.”  I had told “her highness” here, but it didn’t appear to have made its way to him.

There was no flicker of recognition—not that I really expected it.  I only knew Aoife.  I’d never even met Queen Hazel or King Matadi, I just knew of them by reputation and through Aoife and Mira.  I didn’t even know the name of the supposed princess standing in front of me.

“What were you doing in the woods, Sloane?”  I could see he was trying to put his gentle mask back on, but it was gone.  It wasn’t coming back.

“For the last fucking time—I was going home.  Look, if you want to fucking verify me, go talk to Aoife, or talk to the queen, or—Jesus Christ, my sire is Karhi Fucking Emelyn.”  I pointed at the princess.  “I know she doesn’t believe me, but I’m sure you have the resources to verify me.  I fucking killed Ilona Emelyn, Hazel’s sister.  I should be a goddamned household name for you.”

They both stared at me for a moment before bursting out into laughter.

“Killed Ilona Emelyn?” the princess howled, wiping a tear from her eye.  “A fledgling?”

Stroud had a patronizing smile on his face.  “You really had me doubting myself.”  He shook his head, still laughing.  “Absolutely ridiculous.”

I waited until they were done laughing before saying, in the most even voice I could muster, “If it’s really that ridiculous, then it should be fairly easy to disprove.”

That sobered Stroud, and he glared at me. “I have other methods.”

“You could try.”

“Fine,” the princess said, slamming the door shut, leaving me alone in my cell.  Their shadows behind the window disappeared.

Fine?  What did that mean?

I was talking a big game, but I knew fuck all about how the House of Living Vampires conducted their business.  Did they torture prisoners?  I mean, they were an empire, I had to assume the answer was yes.

So, what were they doing?  Going to get someone to torture the answer out of me?

How fucking dare they.  After everything I had been through in the past few months.  I had faced down, and destroyed, Ilona Emelyn.  If they thought I was going down without a fight, then I would happily take them on.

I didn’t have much time to dwell on that thought before the door to my cell slammed open again.  The princess, Stroud, and a third vampire stood there.

The third vampire was a middle-aged woman with broad shoulders and a thin mouth.  She wore a rich light green sari patterned with dark green palm leaves.  It was draped over one shoulder and crossed around her back to hang off the other shoulder.

I tensed, ready to fight.

I didn’t even have the chance to lash out before my vision dipped, and I fell backward.

Memories flew into view, and I saw myself talking to Stroud and the princess just minutes before.  The memory played for a second before moving back suddenly.

It threw me back onto that dining room table staring at the faucet, back into hell.  Fear and helplessness overtook me like a hurricane, threatening to swallow me whole.

And then, realization.

Someone was going through my memories and forcing me to relive them.

Something snapped inside off me.

My vision returned, and I could see the room again, but this time, everything was tinted green.  Screams filled the air, and I looked up to see Stroud and the new vampire writhing on the ground.  Green flames consumed them, tearing away at skin and muscle. 

Behind them, I saw the princess, just outside of the line of fire, staring in horror inside the room.

I got to my feet, putting my hand to my neck and feeling the warmth of my necklace.  My soulsilver.

I held out a hand toward the princess, the fire wreathing my fingers.  Fury and terror pumped through me, and I struggled with whether to attack her or flee.  Her eyes were wide, the green flames flickering in their darkness.  She seemed frozen to move.

The screams died, leaving only bones and clothes where Stroud and the woman had stood.  A green sari pile, and a pair of pants and a shirt.

The flames disappeared from the bones and returned to me, harmlessly rejoining the rest of the fire that engulfed me.

I stayed where I was.  Some part of me thought that attacking the princess would probably put me in a bad spot.  Even worse than I already was.  But another part of me warned of staying still for long.  My mind was too jumbled to decide on a course of action.

But it didn’t matter for long because I heard a painfully familiar voice calling to me.

 “Sloane!”

I darted forward out of the cell.  The princess dodged, but I wasn’t after her anyway.

A hallway yawned before me, a flight of stairs opening up on one side into a larger atrium.  Beyond the stairs, a short, plump woman with a shock of fruit punch red hair ran full speed towards me.  A man ran just behind her, easily keeping pace.

The green haze disappeared from my vision as the fire extinguished around me.  I leapt forward and met Mira.  She closed her arms around me and squeezed as hard as she could.

Calm, soothing thoughts filled my head, and I felt my heart slow and my tension ease.   Mira’s embrace was warm, and she reached up to tangle her hand in my hair, pulling me as close to her as she could.

“Wh-what are you d-doing here?” I whispered.  As I spoke, I realized I was crying.

“Long story, tall stuff.  But I’m here, and you’re safe.”  She nuzzled her face into my neck, and it made me feel like cotton—soft and light.

“What are we doing here?”

The question was asked in the quietest, most even tone—and it brought back all the tension and fear.  I looked up, and Mira let me, but she kept an arm around my waist, holding me tight.

The question-asker was a new person.  I hadn’t seen her arrive, but she wasn’t looking at me.  She was looking past me and Mira.  The man that had accompanied Mira stood against a wall, bowed slightly to the newcomer.

She was beautiful.  And it terrified me.  Flowing, red hair and sharp, bright eyes in a heart shaped face—she looked just like Ilona.

I itched to run, but Mira’s grip on me was like iron.  I couldn’t move without hurting her.  And she was working on pumping as much calm into me as she could.  It was working.

The woman stepped past us, not even looking at Mira or me.  She went straight for the princess, who scrambled to get down and kneel in front of her.

“I had not realized you were already back in the country, Princess Cailean,” the woman said.  Her tone was icy.  “What made you think to join the patrol around the castle?”

“Mother—I was just trying to help with—”

“With what?  Were you aware that your father has asked for full reports, every morning, on anyone that was captured within our kingdom.  Why did you make the decision to bring the interrogators first?”

“Mother, I didn’t think that you would want a report without substantiation or more information first.”

“You have not been here, my daughter.  Did it not occur to you that people brought in here might be stronger than you are?  These dungeons are secure against magic, when the magic is pulled from the surrounding environment.”  She motioned into what had been my cell.  “You killed Stroud and Binita with your carelessness.  Soulsilver magic does not require external magic.”  She motioned to me.  “And on top of this—you have abused Sloane Emelyn Briallen, who is an invited guest in my home.”

Cailean didn’t have a good explanation, and I could see it in the almost imperceptible way her shoulders shook.  “I apologize, your Majesty.  I do not have an excuse.”  Ooh, she isn’t even saying ‘Mother’ anymore, a disconnected part of my brain thought.

“You don’t,” she replied.  “But I am not the only one to whom you need apologize.”  She looked at me.  “You must apologize to Sloane.”

She glanced up at me.  I saw the anger and regret in her eyes.  But she bit it back.  “I apologize, Sloane Emelyn Briallen.”

“Should have believed me when I first said who I was.”  I glanced at Mira.  “We’re not exactly working with a brain trust here.”  I could only barely get the words out without my voice breaking. 

Mira smirked, but I felt a harder push of calm.  Things were bad if my snark was coming with tears.  Mira’s calm helped ease my tension again, but it was still high.  The new woman still had her gaze on me.

“Sloane,” she said.  “Please tell me what fate you wish on my daughter, and I will—”

“Nope,” I said.  “Nope, nope, nope.  Not fucking doing that.  Not getting into anyone else’s family shit.  You fucking punish her and leave me alone.”

Cailean gasped at my cursing, but she didn’t move from her spot.

I felt a bubble of laughter in my head and then Mira said, She wants to defend Hazel’s honor and demand you apologize to her, but also knows that it won’t go over well with Hazel.  She done fucked up bad.

I found myself smiling a little.  Hearing Mira’s voice in my head was a welcome comfort that I hadn’t realized I needed.

“Very well,” the queen said.  “I will decide on her punishment.”  She looked away from us, back to the man who had accompanied them.

For the first time, I finally saw him.  Average height, shorter than me, with killer green eyes and a missing arm.  When he caught my eye, he gave me a wicked grin.  Suddenly I knew why the name Aimirgin has sounded familiar.

“Sevilen,” I murmured.

He bowed to me.  “Sloane, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Sevilen saw you and immediately came to report to us,” Mira explained.

I could have kissed him, but I didn’t.  Aoife probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Sevilen, please bring my daughter back to her quarters and make sure she’s under surveillance.”  She looked at Cailean.  “You are dismissed.  You will remain in your quarters until I have determined your punishment.”

The princess bowed her head.  “Yes, my queen.”  She stood up and, keeping her head down, left with Sevilen.

When they had disappeared down the hallway, the woman turned to me, and I tensed.  She looked so much like Ilona.  Bright eyes, short and curvy—even the delicate curve of her shoulders was the same.  If I had seen her from behind, I would have thought she was Ilona.

But then she smiled, and it broke all illusion of Ilona.  This woman was warm.

“Hello, Sloane.  I am Queen Hazel Ruaidhrí of the House of Living Vampires.”