Chapter 9 · Blood Price

The light hit hard enough to turn every phone camera in the ballroom into a tiny dead star.

People screamed. Not classy little gasps, either. Full-on screaming. Champagne hit marble. Somebody shoved past me and went down in a pile of black designer fabric.

Vera stood three feet away with her palm open and bleeding over the floor.

My ring burned.

Not warm. Not uncomfortable. It felt like somebody had shoved my hand into a furnace and locked the door.

I grabbed my wrist. Bad move.

The ring flashed again, white and silver, and pain shot up my arm so fast my knees buckled.

"Quinn." Ronan's voice came rough at my ear. "Don't touch it."

"Great advice," I choked out. "Little late."

Vera's blood kept falling.

One drop.

Two.

Each one hit the marble with a sharp little tick, and every time it did, the ring pulled at me.

Not physically. Worse than that.

My whole body leaned toward her before I told it not to.

Vera watched me through the glare. Her makeup was still perfect.