“You are.” Maximinus forces the robe over me. I can feel the soft material and the flutter of ribbons, which he adjusts fussily. “There. A pretty sacrifice. How could any vampire not want to feed from you now?”
My heart rate spikes, but I shrug my shoulders. “I am bitable.”
“I just need one final detail to the letter to ensure that Lanlin will have no choice but to give up everything to agree to this peace deal.” Maximinus sounds too smug for my liking. I strain to see through the shadows that surround me, as something whispers through the air. “A Shadow Vampire’s sense of smell is better than that of any other race.”
Unexpectedly, I sense the tingle of cursed magic surrounding my damaged wrist. I suck in a sharp breath, just before metal slices into my skin.
I hiss at the shallow cut.
I try to pull back but I sniff in shock, both smelling andfeelingmy blood magically snaking from me.
It’s invasive.
Horrific.
A violation worse than the iron inside me.
“Stop it, bastard.” I wrap my wing around my cut wrist, knowing that the blood must be staining my white feathers red.
“There,” Maximinus says, sounding satisfied, “sealed with your blood. It’s meant to smell and taste like nectar to those parasites.”
Creepy.
Weakened, my knees buckle.
Unsteady, I stumble to the side. I crash into the wall of shelves. The scrolls, which are carefully gathered there, fall around me like snow.
“Careful,” Maximinus snarls, “those scrolls are more valuable than you are.”
“So sweet-tongued.” I deliberately crush a scroll under my foot. “You’ve poisoned my blood, stolen it, and now intend to feed it to a monster. Anything else you want to do with it? Mix it with your Flaver wine, along with saffron and honey?”
“I’ll leave that to the vampires. You know, your idea with the disguise is a good one. Otherwise, they would have likely killed you on sight. Now that Aurelius and you have both created this opportunity, I may as well seize it. With you playing the innocent pet, we have a better chance to capture a king. Catch.”
I smirk when I actually do catch the item that he hurls at me, rather than it hitting me in the face like he expected.
My reflexes are better than his or any dragons’.
“Shackles.” I frown. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Silver ones. And for once, not for you. At least, not for your wrists. Hold them on your palms,” Maximinus commands.
Warily, I allow the shackles and the snake-like chains between them to rest on my palms.
I shudder at the cursed magic that courses through them.
I have never trapped anyone before.
It wrecked me when War locked the iron shackles around my wrists, suppressing my magic and ability to fly.
Will I be able to ruin another king in the same way? Strip him of his crown?
How do I save my Omega, while saving this new Alpha from my own fate?
“Now, don’t drop them.” Maximinus’ pheromones become stronger.
Suddenly, the prickling magic intensifies around the shackles, sparking across my skin. To my shock, they change shape.
I trace over the new object in unwilling fascination.
