The guy is smart. It hasn’t taken him long to realize that I am the power in this room who can save him.
Perhaps, I can even turn this to my advantage and get him to make a deal.
“In the name of the Shadow Devils,” Nebet is breathing hard, trying to control her rage, “what do you think you are doing, fae? How can you fight like that?”
“I was a member of the featherglass,” I reply. “Sin knows that.”
“Does the King know that his sweet pet attacks High Priestesses?” Nebet hisses, prowling closer.
I back up.
Barnabas’ chest is pressed against my wings, as he is crushed against the wall. He still rests his hand reassuringly on my shoulder.
Nebet leans to grip my chin. I glare fiercely back.
“Does your King know that his High Priestess beats his sweet Omega Blood Lovers?” I retort.
Nebet tightens her hold on my chin. “An Unseelie protecting someone else without getting anything out of it. How surprising.”
“I just don’t like bullies.”
Nebet lets go of me with a contemptuous sneer, before taking a shuddering step back. “Stop that nosebleed, Hart. Don’t waste what belongs to your gods.”
I glance over my shoulder at Barnabas, before giving him a wicked grin.
He returns it, before wiping the blood off his nose and then deliberately licking it. “The only one who drinks my blood isme.”
My grin widens.
I turn back to Nebet, in case she attacks again.
Instead, she laughs. “Be defiant then. I am pairing you together, as the two troublemakers. Then you can’t infect any of the other precious Blood Lovers with your heresy. Maybe you can help each other survive.”
My brow furrows. “Survive singing, dancing, and learning to look sexy, aye? Because I already have those covered.”
Nebet bares her long fangs. “Survive the Hunt. I assure you that tomorrow night, your bloodwillbe drunk by the Shadow Vampire who claims you. Call us gods or devils, our fangs will sink into your throats just the same. Good night, my Harts.”
I clench my hands, as she sweeps out of the room.
I barely hear the door slam shut.
Hunt.
Nice and ominous sounding.
Hurriedly, I step forward and turn around to catch Barnabas, who collapses into my arms.
“Fuck that fanged hag.” Barnabas groans, as I lower him to the straw.
“Now, now, is that any way to talk about a god?” I dance out of the way with a laugh, as Barnabas weakly bats at me.
Then I settle on my side next to him, as he tenderly massages his antlers with a grimace. His tail hangs limply between his legs.
“This Hunt, aye?” I fiddle with a piece of straw. “I’m guessing that we’re the prey.”
Barnabas’ shoulders slump. “We’re the Hinds and Harts; the Bloods are the predators. We’re taught that it’s in both our natures to be that way. I tried to convince my kingdom that we weren’t born to be no more than…” He rubs at the smeared blood on his nose. “I failed with all but my small band, and they…”
He swallows.
