His lips chase mine, but I run my nose along his jaw, till I press my lips to his ear. “But do not cast judgment on me when I do the same,” I warn him, pressing my feet flat and standing firm. Fighting for control when it comes to our safety will be our biggest obstacle.
He wraps a hand behind my back, jerking my hips to his, kissing me with brutal force only a warrior can wield. I melt—flesh and bone—I am no more.
Only in his hold do I resemble something again. A newer, stronger version of myself.
Longing and desire drift down my throat. My hands reach up, clawing Titus’s chest. Wait, why do I feel skin where his armor should be? Was he hurt?
My eyes open. Titus’s lips trail down my jaw, a seamstress to the tears my doubts tore open.
I smile when I spot the mate mark exposed. Galen died knowing I was never his.
“Later,” Titus promises as he nips at my neck. His sharp fangs tease my sensitive skin, but do not pierce it.
Adrian enters the room, arms crossed, eyes sharp as daggers, glaring at me. Tristen whimpers, and embarrassment burns my cheeks. We got lost in each other. I wish we could have stayed, but that is not our path.
Titus rushes to Tristen’s side but keeps hold of my hand. His thigh is covered in blood. Gently, I search for a wound. “It’s healed,” he clarifies.
Was that the only wound Galen inflicted? I know Galen; his specialty was his mouth.
“What happened?” Titus spots the IVs filled with blood, and his eyes narrow with worry.
I tell him everything, how Elderan altered the Vitalis, appeared to be a god but claimed he was something more. Elderan was able to make one last alteration, selecting Tristen to become a new creature, capable of defending the people against the world’s evils and wielding new magic, like rune drawing, siring others, and having a long life.
Titus’s hand trembles as he pushes back Tristen’s hair. “A new creature,” he repeats. He hugs Tristen’s hand to his chest and shakes his head.
I step forward. What do I say? My feet dance back as I pull at the silk sleeves of my shirt.
“The blade in the Vitalis.” Titus glances back at me. Fear dilates his eyes. Knowing a single weapon we must encountercan kill his brother. “And he wanted me to be… made into… what Tris will be?”Titus asks.
“That is what he said.” I stay back, weighed down with guilt. “I don’t want you to change,” I selfishly whisper.
Adrian’s eyes dig into me. “You should have obeyed my orders and gone to your room,” he hisses under his breath.
“I…” I lick my lips. Where has my voice gone? “I fucked up. I should have demanded that Tristen take me to my room. I… we both were pissed you lied.”
“That does not give you an excuse to disobey orders,” Adrian bellows.
Titus presses on his temple in exasperation. “There is nothing to forgive. This castle is not your cage. You can roam as you wish. We need to focus on what we have gained.”
He looks utterly depleted. I want to rush forward and alleviate his aches.
But I don’t. I’m a hypocrite. I haven’t forgiven him for lying to me. That’s going to take time.
Darkness eclipses me. Looking over my shoulder, I see a man who wears a mask of beauty and fury. Silver-blond hair, eyes as intense and consuming as a cave of amethyst. His lips remain pressed together, feet unmoving. “I’m Ryker,” he announces.
Ryker observes me, says nothing more, and then joins Titus but positions himself on the other side so I’m in his sights.
I continue stepping away towards the balcony, taking in the fresh air. I feel like I'm intruding upon a moment meant for brothers.
“Hey, I’m here,”Ryker whispers into Tristen’s ear. He looks at Adrian. “The castle is secure. Only two nobles left of their own accord; a dozen were slain, and the rest said they would bend a knee. Your commander has them under surveillance.”
He pauses when a new sensation prickles the air. Hitting me first since I’m the closest to it.
We all sense it. I glance to my side as the air on my balcony shifts. My gaze follows the curves of the skeleton frame that surrounds my tower. Galen cultivated it. I stood by his side and watched it grow. It was a wedding present. Then he had a vampire who had the magic of turning things into stone, transforming them into this solid state.
I’ve scaled those vines many times when I’d sneak out for nocturnal adventures. Galen never looked, nor cared, because he was fucking others.
My eyes narrow as I consider the opposite, that someone might have climbed these walls, so they had the memory of my room, a recollection used to open a portal if needed.
