Lilith's threads tightened around the vampire's throat, drawing a thin line of crimson that beaded against pale skin. The vampire's eyes fixed on the spider with cold contempt.
"Sneaky monster." The vampire's voice was low, venomous. "Using such underhanded tactics. How lowborn."
Lilith's smile didn't waver. Her fingers curled around the threads, feeling the tension, the pulse of the struggling creature caught in her web.
"Say what you will." Her voice was light, almost dismissive. "This is my victory."
Then the door burst open.
Boots. Dozens of them. The torchlight that flooded the storehouse was blinding after the dim, blood-soaked darkness, and for a moment, Lilith's crimson eyes narrowed against the glare.
Serris stood at the front of the gathered soldiers, his sword already drawn, his pale grey eyes sweeping the carnage—the bodies, the blood, the three women frozen in their deadly tableau.
