House of Hunger

by Alexis Henderson

“I’ll let you in on a little secret that will serve you well in the North: The whole world runs on blood. Who has good blood. Who has bad blood. Whose blood is shed and whose isn’t. That’s what it all comes down to in the end. And you southerners like to pretend that isn’t true, but you’re just as bloodthirsty as the rest. Blood is everything in the South. It’s everything everywhere.”

“Because we’re little more than livestock by law,” said Evie, flicking at the fat vein at the juncture of her elbow, which was already quite bruised from bloodletting. “They can’t marry us any more than we could marry a dairy cow.” “That’s not true,” said Irene, with surprising sharpness. “And it’s in poor form to liken our plight, a plight we chose, to that of those with no liberty to make that decision themselves.”

Someone finally said it in a vampire book. Thank you.

Marion raised a shaking hand to Lisavet’s pale cheek and angled close enough to feel the heat of her mouth. “Kiss me again,” she said, and as the young Countess drew Marion into her arms, she swore she heard the sound of nails on stone, scratching.

Bruh, this is like everything I've ever wanted ina sapphic gothic horror. I'm LIVING for this. The kiss? The horror? The obsession? Unreal, unmatched, undone.