“Well, if you’d shut the fuck up, I could find out, no?”
Killian grumbles his disapproval, and I feel the rumble of his chest seep into my back.
“We should consume the Cistanchea now,” Celine says, raising the vial to her lips.
A puff of hot steam flows from K’haram’s direction as he commands,“No. I don’t want them listening to our conversation, Omri. You can translate for them.”
I shake my head at Celine.
“Don’t. He wants to speak only to me.”
“Absolutely the fuck not, Aimee,” Killian interjects, his voice frantic as he squeezes the vial in his hand.
The look etched into his onyx eyes, crinkled in worry and fear, is something I never expected to see in the Vampire King’s gaze.
“Killian, please trust me,” I whisper as I gingerly grab the vial from his fingers and let it fall to the ground together with mine. They shatter into a million shards, the golden liquid spilling on the ground. I intertwine my fingers with his, squeezing gently. “I’m right here, Killian. But I’m not asking for your permission to talk to K’haram. I need to understand what’s going on.”
He sighs, the sound carrying the weight of the realm, before letting me go with a nod.
I return my gaze to the beast before us. He emerges from the shadows, the faint flicker of light from the antechamber gliding against his obsidian scales that look like they’re made from sharpened glass. He’s a creature of surreal predatory beauty, drenched in dangerous darkness. Yet, his jade stare is gentle and intelligent, and I catch a glimmer of longing in the depths of his eyes.
He lowers his head to my level, revealing a crown of bluish-black horns that circle his skull, blending with the ferocious blade-like scales that go down his neck and spine, resembling a broken silhouette of deadly knives that reaches the tip of his tail. His wings are tucked in at his sides, gleaming with shades of aquamarine and teal. He’s truly an embodiment of dominion and ruination, yet I can’t help finding a sense of peace and belonging in his terrible appeal.
He’s a magnificent weapon of mass destruction, but as I extend my hand and caress the soft scales on the side of his powerful jaw, I don’t feel an ounce of fear in my body. Instead, a possessive thought takes shape in my brain.
Mine.
K’haram nuzzles his giant head against my palm, purring like a well-fed cat. The intimate gesture tugs at my heartstrings, my mind begging to remember a distant time when we might have shared such moments.
But nothing comes to me.
“Speak,” I urge him softly. “How do you know me? Why can I understand you when the others cannot?”
“Omri,”the dragon rumbles sorrowfully.“A soul bond can never be broken. It withstands the darkest magic, the sands of time, life and death itself.”
“So you were soul-bonded to one of my ancestors?” I ask, trying to make sense of his words.
“Your ancestors,”he repeats in a hollow tone. Pain swims in his emerald eyes before he blinks it away.“I guess you could say that, yes.”
“Who?” I ask in awe. I studied my family lineage in my formative years, as all noble Fae offspring do, even the disgraced ones, but I encountered no mention of a predecessor that shared such a powerful connection with a mythical creature. Yet again, dragons were just a fairytale to put children to sleep until yesterday.
“I’m afraid I’m not the one who can grant you the answers you seek, Omri,”K’haram answers cryptically.
“Why not? I don’t understand. You clearly know more.”
Anxiety prickles at the edges of my brain as I force myself to remain calm. I’m so fucking tired of being kept in the dark.
Killian senses my distress and takes a step closer, resting his hand on the curve of my back. I welcome his fortifying touch, although there’s a part of me that hates how I still find solace in him after everything.
“There’s a blood oath between us, Omri, one I didn’t condone but couldn’t refuse, that forbids me to shed light on what remains buried. Only she can unravel the past.”
Trepidation grips my insides in a chokehold.
“Who are you talking about?” I ask, knowing his next answer is the key to a puzzle I’ve been trying to decipher to no avail for a while now. I half expect him to speak in riddles once again.
“Ereshkygall.”
Blood rushes to my head all at once as hidden memories reveal themselves in a cacophony of broken images and sounds. I grip the sides of my head, whimpering in pain as I fall to my knees. Fractured pieces of a vision dance violently behind my eyelids, and I can’t control the full-blown panic attack that engulfs my senses.
