Betrayed by her Blood. Claimed by the Night.

LAVINIA QUISPE POV: Fury Awakened

Clothed only in moonlight, I tried to focus my will. The awkwardness, the vulnerability, the terrifying pressure of the whole Covenant watching—all of it congealed into a formless, heavy weight in my lungs. I was desperate for the awakening now. If I didn't awaken, I was forfeit to Zack’s cruelty.

I closed my eyes and willed my latent gifts to the surface. Nothing.

I looked up. My father and the Priestess watched, both wearing expressions of increasing confusion. For purebloods, this was supposed to be instantaneous.

“Go on, dear,” the Priestess urged, as if I hadn't already been trying with every fiber of my being.

My father, Lord Aron Quispe, cut in, his voice a low, fierce growl of impatience: “That’s enough playing around. Just Awaken your gifts.”

I snapped my head up, unable to hide the fierce irritation that flared through my terror. I hissed back, "You don't think that I am trying?"

He narrowed his eyes dangerously, but the Priestess intervened. “Lavinia, you are overthinking the process. Stop resisting the call.”

“I’m not resisting!” I protested, shaking my head. The whispers had started in the crowd—scandalized murmurs of a high-born noble failing the simple Rite.

Zilo stepped out of the shadows, naked, his powerful form radiating concern. Even he—my anchor—was starting to look unnerved.

"Lavinia refuses to Awaken her gifts," Father spat.

“I won’t refuse!” I exclaimed. “I just can’t.”

“Of course, you can,” Father growled, his voice laced with venomous disappointment. “You are Blooded. It is bred in your bones.”

Zilo’s warm, soft hand reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. It was impossible to hide how I melted under his touch, even in such a dire moment.

“It can be difficult, my Lady,” he said gently. “Try to focus on the earth beneath your feet. Feel the energy… the moonlight on your skin.”

I closed my eyes and tried to obey. The moonlight on my skin felt alarming, but it did tingle. I sensed something faint at the edge of my consciousness, a gentle, weak pressure—not the violent Telepathy I expected, but a hesitant something.

I opened my eyes, only to see the same look of baffling disappointment on Zilo's face as on everyone else’s.

A hopeless case.

"What the hell is going on here?" Zack demanded, stepping into the light. He was fully in his human form, naked and unmasked, radiating pure displeasure.

“I can’t Awaken my gifts,” I said, folding my arms tightly over my chest.

"Zack!" Zilo barked, his usual calm shattered.

"What?" Zack challenged, his voice rough. "It's the truth. Babying her is only going to make it worse."

“Coddling?” My control snapped. I turned on him, all exasperation and raw fury. “This is the most you’ve even spoken to me in years! Who the hell do you think you are to say something like that?”

My father’s gasp was loud enough to carry over the startled murmurs of the court. I had just publicly attacked one of my future consorts.

Zack’s eyes narrowed, the blue bleeding to a dangerous gold. For the first time all night, he was genuinely present, genuinely engaged—and terrifying.

“I am the one who is about to be shackled to a Dhampir incapable of even doing a simple Rite,” he spat, the words deadly low, dripping with contempt. “I am the one who will have to suffer the consequences of your incompetence.”

The viciousness—the unbridled cruelty—hit me like a physical blow, eclipsing the earlier shame. In its place, a consuming, blinding fury surged through me.

Before anyone could react, the weak tingle on my skin intensified into a scorching, unbearable fire. The agony was immediate. I felt the air around me compress, and the grass beneath my bare feet seemed to wither and recoil. My vision tunneled, but through the rage, I suddenly saw pathways of raw, aggressive energy coursing through the earth, the trees, and the massive, radiating forms of the vampires surrounding me.

It wasn't gentle Telepathy. It was an untamed, visceral force that exploded from my core. I was no longer Lavinia. I was Power.

I let out a desperate cry, and with it, I launched the feeling outward—the scorching heat, the frustration, the sheer, blinding rage—at the nearest, most deserving threat. Zack.

The surge slapped into him. He stumbled back, his powerful aura flickering violently, momentarily dimmed. A choked sound—a gasp of pain and surprise—tore out of him before he crashed backward onto the damp earth.

Klaus, who had emerged from the shadows, froze instantly, his obsidian aura congealing into terrifying stillness. Zilo spun around, his face a mask of shock, slowly replaced by dawning, terrible comprehension.

"It worked," the Priestess breathed, sounding awed and utterly stunned. "She has Ascended. And her gift... is potent."

I stood trembling, my anger receding, leaving me exhausted but humming with raw, vibrating energy. It was a shield and a weapon, humming with electric life. My eyes fixed on the world with a terrifying new focus.

Zack groaned, pushing himself up. His eyes blazed, not in apathy, but in a maelstrom of lust and challenge. He wiped a streak of blood from his lip, his face splitting into a predatory smile.

"You like to play rough, Lady," he grated out, his voice a promise of violence and pursuit. "Fine. The Hunt is on."

The Sanguine Circle below glowed a blinding, wicked red beneath the Blood Moon, and I knew exactly what my new, aggressive gift was. I needed a name for it.