Page 13 of Given to the Black King

I can smell that too now. Not only her skin. The sharp green change in her scent when Callas speaks to her. The warmth that rose between her legs when she saw my claws.

I close my eyes.

Bad choice.

I see her at the black line, chin lifted, pulse beating hard beneath pale skin.

My mouth floods.

Ghenn’s voice comes carefully. “You know distance does not end it.”

“I know.”

“The bite is the only relief.”

“I know.”

“And she has to offer.”

I look at him.

He stops.

I saw what force makes of the bond once.

I was young enough that my horns had not finished growing. My grandsire brought an oath-breaker into this same armory. The lord had bitten the woman chosen for him while she fought.

She followed him without chains. She did not look at anyone. She did not speak. When he told her to smile, she smiled.

My grandsire killed him before sunset. His horns are over the gate. The woman lived for another year. Nothing in her returned.

I tie the linen hard enough to stop the bleeding.

“I will not do that to her.”

Ghenn nods once. No joke now.

“If she never offers,” I say, “I never bite.”

The words settle between us. My claws retract. One by one. Ghenn looks at the ruined sleeve. “You may need more shirts.”

“I need the treaty schedules.”

“Of course you do.”

He stands. “First session tomorrow?”

“Morning.”

“You usually make envoys wait.”

“I usually want them frightened.”

“And this one?”

I think of the heat in her scent when she watched me in the yard.

“She is frightened.”