“Stop,” Madoc said.
Petros stopped, controlled by Madoc’s command.
“What... what is this? Geoxus?” Petros’s gaze shot to Madoc. “You?”
Madoc thought of Cassia as a child, forming clay figurines with a swipe of her hand.
Begging him and Elias to bring her along to the river to play.
Laughing at something stupid Danon did, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes.
“Turn around,” Madoc told his father.
Petros did, twitching, fighting the pull of Madoc’s order.
“Stop this at once, Madoc!” Petros shouted, but his words were thin with fear.
Anathrasa moved closer to Madoc’s side. “Feed, my son.”
A tempest was building inside Madoc’s chest. Chills raced over his skin. Petros had hurt Cassia. Petros had tortured him. Elias’s father was dead because of this man. Raclin, Jann, so many lives ruined because of one person.
It ended now.
Madoc inhaled and felt a cool rush in his blood. It soothed his wounds. His muscles relaxed, infused with relief. His stare held Petros’s.
You’re done hurting people, he thought.You’ll never hurt anyone again.
“This isn’t right. This isn’t—Madoc!” Petros’s voice cracked as hefell to one knee and clutched his chest. “Anathrasa! My love, you can’t possibly...” His words gave way to hacking coughs. Panic contorted his features. Madoc tasted the hot bitterness of it and swallowed more.
“That’s it,” Anathrasa urged.
Petros fought through the pain and staggered toward him. The stones trembled around Madoc’s feet but didn’t rise. Hate lashed across the space between them, but Madoc took that too.
He grew stronger. Untouchable. He didn’t know how he’d survived so long without this. Now that he’d taken the edge off, he could feel how truly empty he was. This was only the start. He needed more. He needed to drink, and drink, until the pain was gone.
Petros’s strangled scream became a lullaby, calming Madoc’s last frayed nerve.
“Yes,” Anathrasa said, pride brightening her tone. “He deserves this.”
Deserves.The word pressed through the rush of blood in his ears. Madoc wasn’t just draining Petros—he was punishing him. The way Ash and Cassia had been punished by Anathrasa.
This wasn’t right.
Itfeltright.
“Stop,” he whispered.
He couldn’t. He didn’t want to.
“Stop,” he said louder, trying to get ahold of himself. “Stop.” He was taking too much, too fast. His anathreia was working against his will, swallowing gulps of soul energy on his behalf. He had to slow it down. There had to be a way to shut it off.
He was becoming just like those he most hated. If Ash saw him now, she would look at him the way she looked at Anathrasa. In fear. In disgust.
Ash.He held her name in the grip of his teeth. She was fighting him in the grand arena. Smiling at him in the temple. Touching his hand after he’d saved her from Elias’s wrath.
His outstretched hands jerked, severing his invisible hold on his father. Madoc staggered back, his heart kicking against his ribs. Before him, Petros lay motionless on the floor.
Trembling, Madoc crept closer. Panic warred with a heady pulse of power inside him, twisting his stomach. He reached for Petros with anathreia, searching for hate, for life.
