Scarlett Draven bit her lip so hard it almost bled.
This scent—this blood—was a thousand times richer, thicker, and more intoxicating than anything she'd ever tasted, even compared to the weak drip she'd stolen from Parker before he had awakened. And that alone had been a hundred times sweeter than the best blood any human could offer. Her body screamed to move, to leap forward and devour the air around him, but before she could even twitch, a cold merciless grip tightened on her shoulder.
Lady Noctavine Vaelith Draven didn't even glance at her daughter.
With the sheer pressure of her will, she locked down every other Draven vampire in the room, freezing them in place like insects pinned under a celestial blade. Across the hall, the criminal vampire family—those pale imitations—fought like rats in a sinking ship, but Helena silenced them with a twitch of her finger, pressing them into the marble floor with a force that felt like gravity had tripled just for them.
