I hate that I trusted Aurelius to press his sheathed cursed dagger inside me because both Daire and I wanted to prove to him that the Golden Dragon prophecy wasn’t real.
That he would never hurt us.
Well, Daire and I are idiots.
Because Aurelius is hurting us now more than anyone else has.
Is this how the prophecy will be fulfilled?
Golden fated mates, an Omega and her Alpha Kings, destined to bleed…
Aurelius stalks through the rose scented steam toward me.
His expression is tight.
Aurelius is dressed immaculately in a golden tunic and tan breeches. A crimson cape is draped around his broad, tanned shoulders.
Amber sunlight from the high windows catches on his pale eyelashes and falls across his golden waves of hair, making him flame like the sun.
His hair tumbles under his elegant, golden crown, which is a single dragon with its wings outstretched, and around his sharp cheekbones to his strong jaw.
Every time that we are apart, I forget just how much taller he is than me.
How much taller than Daire…almost everyone.
Power…blood…shadowed death.
Let. Me. Out.
I shudder at the dark seductive whisper from Hadrian’s cursed dagger, which is sheathed at Aurelius’ waist.
My skin goosebumps.
I grit my teeth.
I stare at the glittering scales of the scabbard. The hilt is heavy, antique gold. It is molded into a snarling dragon’s head, trailing shadows like the sun’s rays behind it.
Yet I won’t be tempted a second time by the resurrected Emperor Hadrian who hides inside Aurelius. He didn’t come out to help me in the basilica.
Did he want to?
Is he as trapped as I am? Chained by Maximinus’ sorcerer ancestors, before they turned his own dagger on him and burned him to ash? Or is he simply a side to Aurelius who is back in charge right now?
“You’ve completed the purification ritual.” Aurelius’ voice is smoky but cold.
“I don’t need to bepurified.” I shake my hair like a dog.
I enjoy the way that the water droplets whip across Aurelius’ cheeks, and he can’t help flinching.
“Of course not, Little Spark.” He wipes his hand across his face, muttering, “Etiquette training may be helpful.”
I glance at Aurelius’ bruised wrists and realize that he has been freed from the enchanted chains.
I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.
I’m desperate to bury my hands in Aurelius’ tumble of golden hair and stroke over his glorious horns. But his eyes are emotionless.
Does he still love me?
