I ran my tongue over the sharp points of my fangs.
How many times had I thought about blood?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
KAGE
Imelted back against the wall as Val stepped into the hallway. The small bit of bravery I’d found in his bedroom had vanished the moment his fangs flashed. For ten minutes, I’d tried to go back into his room but couldn’t bring myself to do it.
The look in his eyes when I mentioned blood was something I never wanted to see again. Right along with his fangs.
“I know you’re here.” Val didn’t look in my direction. “Stay close.”
His words sent a tremor through me. How had he known? I should have asked him if he could smell my magic over the faint nut smell that remained, but there were too many guards and servants in the hallway.
I swallowed hard and followed at a distance, my feet making no sound on the polished floor.
Val walked with a slight unsteadiness, one hand occasionally bracing himself against the wall. The poison still affected him, but he maintained a rigid posture that suggested he wasn’t about to let anyone see his weakness.
Especially not his father.
Once downstairs, the dining room doors loomed ahead of us, massive slabs of the strongest wood carved with the Sangre family crest—a rose dripping blood into a goblet. Val paused before them, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath.
I hovered behind him, anxiety crawling up my spine like spiders. The nut paste Nico had given me was fading. I could feel my protection thinning, my scent probably becoming detectable to anyone with strong enough senses.
Would Val’s father notice? Would he smell me the moment we entered?
I pressed myself into a small alcove as a servant passed, holding my breath until they disappeared around a corner.
Val hadn’t moved.
“No matter what happens in there, don’t reveal yourself,” he whispered so softly I almost missed it.
If Val thought I’d be detectable, he wouldn’t let me go in, would he?
My throat had closed up entirely.
He pushed open the doors, and I slipped in behind him before they swung shut. Valentino sat at the head of an absurdly long table, only two place settings laid out despite the capacity for twenty. The distance between father and son stretched symbolically across the polished wood.
“It took you long enough.” Valentino was already eating.
“Forgive me, Father. Near-death experiences slow one down.” Val took his seat, the chair scraping against the floor.
My hands wouldn’t stop trembling. I tucked them under my arms and pressed myself against a nearby wall.
A servant appeared, silent and expressionless, pouring a thick, dark liquid into two crystal goblets. It was too thick to be wine.
Blood.
My stomach lurched, and I bit down hard on my lip to keep from making a sound.
Valentino’s eyes traveled over his son with cool assessment before gesturing to the goblet in front of Val. “A special blend for tonight. Squirrel, wolf, and fire mage. Quite a rare combination.”
Val’s attention hadn’t left the goblet since it had been poured, and something hungry flashed across his face before he suppressed it. He moved his hand to the goblet’s stem but didn’t lift it. “You’ve outdone yourself. How many guards had to hold them down as you forcefully took it?”
“Always so dramatic.” Valentino laughed. “I wish the panther hadn’t lost so much blood. He would have been a nice addition to the blend.”
Val’s fingers tightened around the stem of the goblet. “Tell me of your plans, Father.” Val’s voice remained steady, but his shoulders and neck were tense. “How many vacants does it take to seize a throne?”
