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Eagan sighs heavily. “Perhaps we should question the fae we saw working there. Maybe the Elven King is up to his tricks. We’ve heard whispers about how close he is with King Zander.”

I move toward Eagan. Does he need me to spell it out for him? Knowing King Zander’s mutts are listening in, the last thing I need is to scream what she is. Gripping him by the front of his shirt, I jerk him closer. He seems shocked by the action. Eagan may be my guard, but he is also my best friend.

“It wasn’t fae magic . . .” I let those words sink in, and he pulls his face back, looking at me with an odd expression. “This was different, it was power . . . generational.” I shove him away.

He watches me carefully, arms folding as he moves toward me.

“Power? As in elemental or—”

“She was mine,” I snarl, losing my temper, knowing I just let her slip through my fucking fingers.

“Here? Are you sure?” He knows what this means.

“I’m sure. She wasn’t poisonous to them. Only to me,” I answer.

I’d fed on her like a beast and nearly killed her. She shouldn’t exist. The Arcanum said our curses would die with us, that no mate would ever surface to break them. Yet she’s here.

Mine.

Her blood woke it. The bond snapped into place the second I fed from her, and now I know what she is.

My bond. My curse. My key.

If I hold her, I hold the power to end this damnation. The others will hunt their own, but I found mine first. And I’ll burn this world to ash before I let anyone take her from me.

Eagan goes to say something just as the door opens.

Lycan King Zander steps inside, gravel-eyed and broad-shouldered, reeking of dominance and pride like all lycan shifters. His court robes are unbuttoned, but his sword is still belted at the hip. I roll my eyes. The man is stuck in the dark ages. We all are in some ways, but he’s foolish to believe a sword would intimidate me. What’s next? Will he throw fucking garlic at me?

“You caused quite the stir, King Kylian,” he says flatly. “The blood bank said you passed out. Healers found you unconscious. I thought you vampires were better at controlling your urges. Instead, you come here and get blood drunk.”

“Must’ve been the local vintage,” I say.

He raises a brow. “Are you saying you were poisoned?”

“Yes and robbed.”

His eyes narrow. “And robbed?” He sounds almost amused as I hold his stare. “You let a human rob you?” he snickers, but I don’t share his amusement.

“I want the name of the feeder girl,” I add. “And access to her. I’ll handle the rest.”

“No,” he says. “You’re here under my rule, vampire. You don’t get to throw accusations, play judge, and then demand things from me.”

“Then I expect compensation,” I say coolly. “And cooperation. If your feeders are tainted, your reputation won’t survive the fallout, nor will your trading routes.”

He bristles. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m offering a favor. Let me clean up your mess before word spreads you’ve got dirty blood running through the mainland while under your rule.”

A long silence follows my words as he thinks. “If I have dirty blood here, that only affects your kingdom, Kylian. I fail to see why the other kingdoms would care.”

“Not if it’s seen as an act of war. The treaties rely on cooperation. If word were to get out that the Vampire King came for negotiations and nearly ended up dead by your hand, what would the other kingdoms have to say? Your two years are nearly up on the mainland, so they might believe you’re claiming the largest remaining island for yourself.”

King Zander growls, but he knows I’m right. Zander’s time is nearly up, and if something happens to me, the other kingdoms may see it as an act of war to claim this island.

“Fine, you’ll have twenty-four hours. My men will accompany yours. If she’s guilty, I expect proof. And then her head.”

He’ll get neither. Still, I incline my head. “We’ll negotiate once I find her. ”