They had sharedeverythingin life, even their mother’s womb. Why would glory—or death, for that matter—be any different?
* * *
Savagely,I was torn from the dream…and it felt like a piece of my soul had been torn away with it.
I gasped, drawing in breath desperately, likeI’dbeen crushed underneath theungiraand not…Davik.
My eyes flew to the horde king, who had me pinned underneath him, who was glaring down at me with his red and glowing gaze, his hand poised at my throat.
“Who are you really?” he growled.
“W-what?” I asked, scared, confused. My head was throbbing, like I’d used my gift. But I knew that I hadn’t. I’d been asleep! I’d been…
Dreaming.
His memories?
Impossible. It had never happened before.
Yet, everything had felt soreal. Theungira’scold flesh, its coiled body, its crushing bulk. The shrill fear in Devina’s voice, her relief so palpable I had felt tears well in my throat. The ground underneath me—no, not me.Him. The warm blood that had bloomed under my—his—tunic.
I was losing my mind.
“How do you know that name?” the horde king growled, his tone furious.
My hand came up to rest on his thick wrist, my fingers brushing the warm gold of his cuffs. HisVorakkarcuffs, ones I’d never seen him without.
His hand at my throat wasn’t squeezing me. It was more to keep me in place, keep me still as he interrogated me.
“Your name?” I whispered, staring up at him. My giftwasevolving, I realized. Changing.
Or…was it because I’d entered his mind too many times? Changed his emotions once too many? Had I unknowingly absorbed some of his memories in the process? From his past, of his sister, of his childhood on the plains of Dakkar?
My question made him more enraged. I could sense his restlessness, crawling underneath his skin. He was disturbed.
Iwas disturbed.
Davik had been young in the dream—no, thememory—no older than ten. And his sister…
He had a sister.
One he loved desperately. I hadfelthis affection for her, his pride in keeping her safe. Where was she now?
“Is it your name?” I asked, suddenly scared at what he might answer. Because if it was…if I’d just dreamed his memories…
I didn’t know what it meant. I didn’t know if I couldstopit.
“Please,” I pleaded with him softly, looking up at him with tears in my eyes, my temples pounding, making the world go fuzzy.
The Mad Horde King stared down at me. He was naked above me. I’d kicked off the furs during the dream. His thighs kept my hips pinned and his hand felt like a claim of possession on my throat, like heownedme, like he could do whatever he wished with me…
Andgods, I didn’t think I’d stop him.
“Say it,” he rasped.
HisVorakkarcommand. One I couldn’t help but obey. That voice, dark and sinful, threaded up my spine, made my nipples tighten.
“I want to hear it from your lips,” he growled.
