He swallows with a pleased, strained sound. For a moment he seems almost human, and my breath catches in my throat.
And then he grunts. I open my eyes, unsure when I slammed them closed. A silver knife is stuck in Rorrik’s shoulder.
Tiernon.
He’s standing at the edge of the pulvinar, his eyes harder than I’ve ever seen them, chest rising and falling with his furious breaths. Theemperor looks on, his expression darkly satisfied as he pits his sons against each other.
And yet Tiernon doesn’t leave the pulvinar. He doesn’t take a single step.
Rorrik raises his head, and my blood trickles down my wrist. His wordless conversation with Tiernon is the distraction I need, and I wrench my other hand free, reaching for the knife.
Rorrik hisses out a breath when I rip it from his shoulder, but he’s gone before I can slam it into his heart.
We face each other, and I’m suddenly aware of the crowd once more. A hush falls over the spectators, and Rorrik nods at my dripping wrist.
“That will bleed until a vampire heals it,” he says conversationally.
“I don’t care.”
He shakes his head at me. “Always so stubborn.” He takes a single step forward as if he can’t help himself.“Grant me this indulgence.”
I snort, my gaze drifting toward Tiernon.
Rorrik lets out a strange sound.“If you let him do it, I’ll make you pay.”
Something clicks in the back of my mind.
Vampires have weaknesses too. They’re possessive and territorial over those they consider their prey. And that weakness can be manipulated.
I stare him down. “Beg.”
Rorrik throws back his head, and when he laughs, I have to look away. The emperor’s gaze clashes with mine.
He looks smug. He got the kind of show his people will be talking about for years. And he got to create another wedge between his sons.
“Be serious,” Rorrik croons.
I bow to the emperor, who nods, turning away as if bored. When I begin walking toward the arena exit, Rorrik appears several feet in front of me.
Slowly, he lowers himself to his knees.
The crowd goes silent.
“Allow me,” he murmurs, holding out his hand.
My mind spins with a million thoughts, and yet I can’t grasp any of them. I stare at him blankly. Blood drips onto the sand beneath us, and a muscle jumps in Rorrik’s jaw.
Someone in the crowd yells something I can’t catch. But it nudges me into life. This is what the spectators are watching. The emperor’s son on his knees for me.
No one would ever believe Rorrik is cowed. Not one person would doubt he could rip me apart and feast on me if he chose.
But what this signifies … I much prefer the thought of people leaving withthissight firmly in their minds. Not the sight of me trapped on my back, seconds from begging.
The thought makes fresh fury rise, and yet I anchor myself against my impulses.
Think, Arvelle.
Slowly, I walk toward Rorrik, putting a little swing in my step. His eyes heat with bloodlust.
