That my happiness—my mating bond with Arran—was the cause.
I missed the cold, scowling mask of the Brutal Prince. The pity in his eyes was so much worse. How many legions had Arran led into battle? Even in victory, there had surely been losses on the field.. Once, I would have scoffed at the notion of guilt. Arranwas a tool made for death and destruction. I understood because I was his counterpart.
But it was one thing to stab and kill and maim. It was something else entirely to contemplate sending the ones I loved into danger on my behalf.
Stab. Kill. Maim.
Maybe that would dull the edge of my agonizing guilt.
I drew my weapons once more.
Arran’s eyes flicked up at the movement, tracking it. I blinked, and his battle axe was in his hand.
“Can you get us into those cells?” he said, tucking the torch into a notch high above the reach of the succubus in their cells.
“Of course.” I flashed a wicked smile sharp as the blades in my hands. “It would be my pleasure.”
60
ARRAN
We arrived back in the bedchamber just as the bottom arc of the sun crested over the hill. My heart throbbed in my chest, my beast howling and clawing to be freed. Slaughtering the succubus had only whetted his appetite.
Veyka released my hand instantly, stalking to the window.
I could not even pretend to not watch her.
She dropped the weapons first.
Then the cinched linen shirt that highlighted the too-generous curve of her hips. I sucked in a breath and turned away when her fingers went to the laces of her bustier.
More fabric hit the floor as she reached for a wet cloth and began scrubbing away the remnants of our encounter with the succubus.
This was punishment for that bloody, feral possessiveness I’d shown in the dungeons. I told myself not to look. What had happened before… not a mistake. But rash. Driven by need rather than rational thought.
But rationality and strategy had failed me where Veyka was concerned. I had no memories to use as their basis. All I had was feeling and need.
And I needed her more than I needed my next breath.
A long, languorous groan filled the room, surging straight for my cock. My eyes were on her before I could stop myself, devouring every detail—every luscious curve silhouetted by the morning sun, every dip and dimple of her magnificent backside visible as she stretched her arms overhead.
Fuck it.
The duel would not take place until midday.
“Wake me in time for lunch,” Veyka said, shattering my delusion.
She threw herself into the bed without a backward glance in my direction. Wrapped bedsheets that still smelled of our sex tight around her. And did not even open an eye to taunt me with a wink.
Ancestors.
I was so truly fucked.
61
VEYKA
I woke with my fingers in my cunt and Arran’s name on my lips.
