Imogen didn’t speak. She never had to me. She couldn’t, so I had no memory of her voice. I wished I could have heard it before I died. In my dreams, it was like silk across my torn flesh, music to deaf ears, a kiss from feather-soft lips.
Pain.
My veins stretched, searching for any blood left in my body, but the well had run dry. I’d die here in a tomb of my own making, desiccated, without my brother near and without a final goodbye to her. It was such a silly thing to dream of someone who didn’t know the depths to which they owned you. A silly thing indeed.
MY SKIN STUNG, trying to wake me, alerting me to a presence. I came awake, snapping my eyes open. It wasn’t a phantom here to tease me with what I couldn’t have, but something worse.
Samkiel.
He leaned against the frame of the open cell door, wearing loose-fitting gray and black clothes. His arms were folded across his powerful chest, and his silver eyes blazed. He smelled of storm clouds, sex, andher.My fangs scraped against my chapped, dried lips as a failed hiss left me. I blamed Samkiel and Dianna for Kaden’s death. I blamed them all, and the second I was free, I’d spill enough blood to drown the world.
“You’re conscious,” Samkiel said. “It’s been a while since you have been. I am unsure how desiccation works on Ig’Morruthens. Perhaps you are not too far gone yet.”
My blood had dried in puddles and feathery rivulets on the floor around me. On my knees like I was, the chains pulled my hands above my head. My arms were beyond numb, and my shoulders no longer screamed in agony unless I moved. Needles ran through my veins, every bit of me desperate for merely a drop of blood.
Samkiel stepped into my prison, and every cell in my body went on alert. My eyes widened, but not because of him. I was focused on the tiny glass he carried. The swirling red liquid had me on my feet, jaws snapping with the desire to empty it. Metal cuffs pulled against my worn and battered wrists, scraping against bone, but I did not care. My hunger was all-consuming. I craved that thick red liquid.
He stopped inches from me without an ounce of fear. “Be still,” he commanded. My pride had long since died, and I listened. I ached to unburden him of his arrogance. “I have questions, and you cannot answer as a worn husk.”
I stayed perfectly still, not moving until he reached out, offering me the cup. My hand whipped out so fast that some of the blood splattered across it. I was so desperate for every precious drop that I licked my palm clean after I drained the cup. It wasn’t enough to even allow my power to raise its head, but my veins did stop burning for a second.
Samkiel crouched just out of reach. He may not fear me, but he did not get closer than he needed to be.
I sat back on my heels, wiping my mouth against my biceps. “Not mortal,” I said.
He shrugged. “There are small pygmy mammals here. That’s all you get.”
A soft huff left me. “Aren’t you afraid it will tarnish your precious image when people find out? How will they toss their panties at your feet when they know you slaughter small animals?”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I didn’t kill it. There was no need. I’m not like you or Kaden.”
A low growl left my throat when Kaden’s name fell from his lips. He did not care.
“I believe in balance. He may be a little sleepy, but he’ll eat and thrive. I do not kill unless I have to and never innocents.”
I scoffed, leaning back on my haunches. “How noble of you.”
“I have questions that need answers. If you cooperate, perhaps you’ll be fed later tonight. If you do not, I will drain what I just gave you from your throat,” he said calmly. “Understand?”
My body ached in places I never knew I had, but the hunger was the worst. It formed a hollow pit of burning acid in my gut and sent that acid flowing through my veins. My skin had turned a deep, ashen gray, my body on the verge of desiccation. The Ig’Morruthen in me was consuming every last resource I had to remain awake and keep me alive. What he gave me was like a drop of rain in a rolling desert.
“You know,” I said, my body aching for the promise of more blood. “Your palace is haunted.”
Samkiel stood up, his eyes widening and an expression I couldn’t define flickering across his face.
“I saw Veruka a few nights ago. Or perhaps that was just my twisted mind conjuring beings.”
His shoulders slumped as if that was not the answer he wished to hear.
“Maybe it was guilt,” I added.
Samkiel cocked his head ever so slightly. “Do monsters feel guilt?”
“You tell me.” I tried to force a smile, but it was simply too much effort.
“How many known allies does Nismera have? Royals and Otherworldly?”
“Why?” I asked, but then it hit me. “Did you try to visit them? Offer trades of allegiance?”
