Primal Kill (The Order of Vampires #5)

Then, his physical presence pierced the timeline like an ice pick.

“Get up, girl.”

That merciless voice sent shivers down Juniper’s spine as she recognized his evil. Adriel’s remembered fear added to her own as she watched the memory unfold. She’d been rightfully nervous but for all the wrong reasons. The young girl believed he was good and would love and protect her.

The hope and relief she experienced when he awoke her in her childhood bed contrasted harshly with the cruel reality that followed. Ripped from her home and plunged into the cold, dark night, he took her without a single show of affection. He denied her the chance to say goodbye to her family, and when she cried, her tears were met with harsh censure and threats.

Then came the truth of who he was, how he was, and the bottomless brutality that defined all he would ever be. Her innocence was shattered in every way possible and Juniper suffered through the memories as she searched for more traces of him. But Adriel’s disappointment was the most unbearable of all, far worse than the memory of the pain.

She’d been so pure and full of hope. The little girl in her dreamed of bein a good partner, deserving of her mate’s love. She’d done everything she could to please him, but all of her kindness was met with brutal cruelty and he slowly broke her down until the last of her hope fell away.

He truly was incapable of love. Love didn’t lash out. Love didn’t hit. Love didn’t lie. Love didn’t manipulate or harm.

He was a monster.

The mental lashes kept mounting, and the beatings never waned. The years they spent together were bleak. A barren wasteland of servitude and inescapable abuse. It wore on Juniper more than the actual use of magick did, and she wished she could pull out of the nightmare, but there seemed to be no escape in sight.

Speeding ahead, Juniper waited for the suffering to end, but it went on and on. Adriel’s loss. Her infinite grief. It was incomprehensible how anyone could be so cold and cruel to someone so innocent.

Juniper couldn’t stomach the full extent of his abuse, so she skimmed as much as possible. These were ugly little secrets, and Adriel deserved privacy. The physical abuses were gutting, but they were nothing compared to the mental scars.

Young Adriel tried to fight him, tried to stand up to him, but he taught her an unforgettable lesson about the cost of courage. The fucker went back and killed her siblings, bringing hertrinkets of them for proof. She accepted defeat the day he gifted her with her youngest brother’s severed head. After that, she lived a life of barren resignation and pain.

The fucker broke her every which way a female could be broken, leaving nothing but cold, hollow fear. Adriel existed in a state of crippling tension, never knowing what would trigger his fury.

Her needs meant nothing to him. He used her body like a slave in every possible way. He owned her so profoundly that she lost sight of herself.

And when her cycle was late and she learned a baby lived inside of her, she feared she’d done something wrong. She worried he’d cut it out of her or, worse, let it grow and fill her arms so he had one more thing to rip away.

Her protectiveness for her son sparked a willingness to survive. She hid her body and never told him she was with child. It was during that time that she met an accidental friend.

The Bishop. Juniper recognized him right away. Immortals were handy like that, other than their clothes and style of dress, they never changed.

Eleazar tried to help Adriel, but when Cerberus discovered another immortal male’s presence in her life, he punished her dearly. The second time the Bishop tried to help her, he was better prepared.

As she said, she’d been badly injured and barely conscious. Only little glimpses of herrescue lived in her mind. The sounds of Cerberus’s screams. The smashing of wood and shattering of glass. The feel of gentle arms scooping her off the ground and the startling sensation of safety after an eternity of vicious cruelty. She struggled, afraid and distrustful for good reason. But then she was on a boat in a bed, making a long voyage to a new world.

Juniper hardly recognized the undeveloped land as the farm The Order chose but saw the memories of barns and houses being built as they settled. Adriel’s loneliness grew as her waistline expanded. The males of The Order rescued her, but they also condemned her.

Mates were locked at the soul. For her to anger Cerberus to such a degree… They all believed Cerberus’s abuse was somehow caused by her actions, which it had never been.

When Christian was born, she pushed for him to have a seat on the council and as soon as he came of age, the Bishop took him under his wing. Then, she was left alone—for centuries.

Juniper’s heart broke. How could anyone survive such endless isolation?

The despair was too much. The hopeless acceptance that this was all she deserved made Juniper want to hold her and convince her she was owed so much more.

When she reached the presence, she found only traces of Cerberus in her mind, but he was not there now. She looked again and again, but only found traces of pain in his wake. He existedin the scars. Her memories draped like torn lace and wilted cobwebs all throughout her mind, casting shadows like permanent tattoos that she would probably always wear.

Juniper lowered her hands, fighting hard not to shed a single tear.

Adriel’s eyes opened, and she looked up at her with the same familiar innocence she had as a girl. “Is he gone?”

Feeling like a failure, she looked away. “I couldn’t find him.”

“Well, that’s good, right?”

“I don’t know.” Unlike the fatigue she usually felt from magick, she now only felt discouraged, drained to the point of emotional bankruptcy. Depleted.