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Her cheeks flare a harsher red. She looks away, jaw clenched so hard I worry she’ll break a tooth. “You definitely enjoyed my fingers in that tight little pussy at the blood bank.”
The smell of her arousal is almost as intoxicating as her blood. She swallows, eyes dropping to the bed. Shame flickers there, and something ugly twists in my chest.
“And how did that work out for you?”
“The bond snapped into place, and when I became overwhelmed, your power erupted.” My words don’t seem to register behind those pretty blue eyes. “The curse comes with a price. I’ve paid it twice now.”
Her head snaps up at that, fear replacing shame instantly. “I don’t—”
“Don’t insult my intelligence, little mortal.” I cut her off. “I sensed your magic when I met you. I tasted it in your blood.”
Color drains from her face. “Are you going to kill me?” she asks, her voice steady despite the fear radiating from her.
The question shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. Does she truly believe I would go to such lengths to capture her only to kill her now? The idea is so absurd I almost laugh, but the genuine terror in her eyes stops me.
“If I wanted you dead,” I say quietly, “I would have let King Zander kill you.”
She processes this, her gaze never leaving mine. I can almost see the thoughts racing behind those ice-blue eyes. “Then what do you want from me?”
A dangerous question. What I want from her could fill books. Her blood. Her magic. Her body. Her submission. I want her to acknowledge the bond that ties us together, to embrace her role as my bond, and to surrender to the destiny that brought her to me. I want her to look at me without fear, to say my name like a prayer instead of a curse.
But those truths are too much, too soon.
“For now,” I say, choosing my words carefully, “I want to help you find your sister.”
She studies me for a long moment, wariness evident in every line of her body. “And after, when we reach your kingdom?”
“That depends on you.” It’s not entirely a lie, though it’s far from the whole truth. I hold her gaze, feeling the bond stir beneath my skin, unseen and unacknowledged by her. How can she not feel it when it pulses between us like an invisible thread, drawing me toward her despite my efforts to maintain distance.
It would be so easy to tell her exactly what a bond is and how it ties her to me in ways that could destroy us both. To end her fear of me when she realizes I would never intentionally harm her, that the bond would also punish and destroy me if I tried. To claim what fate has already written.
I don’t.
The truth would terrify her more than the uncertainty. The knowledge that she’s bound to me for eternity, that she carries the key to my salvation in her veins. That fate has marked her as mine—she’s not ready for those revelations. Not when she still trembles at my approach. She didn’t seem to notice that I mentioned our bond, or perhaps she doesn’t understand the term.
“But you won’t hurt my sister or me?” she asks carefully.
“Your sister never, that I can promise. And I won’t allow harm to come to you by any of my people or anyone on this ship.”
I watch her dissecting my statement, examining it for loopholes and hidden meanings.
“No harm from you or your men?” she presses, zeroing in on the precise ambiguity I’d left in my promise.
I allow a small smile to curve my lips, appreciating her perception. “My men, of course.”
Her fingers tighten on the blanket, knuckles whitening with the force of her grip. “And you?”
“I can’t promise not to hurt you. But I will try not to.”
The honesty seems to surprise her, though she masks it quickly. Most humans expect lies from creatures like me, pretty words to lull them into false security. My candor throws her off-balance, and I watch as she adjusts her approach.
“So in other words, you don’t plan to break my bones or hurt me like King Zander or Madam Dahlia would have, but you plan to feed on me, right?”
Little does she know, I need her permission. Although, being locked in this room with her for days on end, her scent alone could drive me mad if she denies me.
“I have no intention of forcing you. But you must understand, I am a slave to my instincts and the bond,” I answer, giving my back to her now, afraid of her reaction.
“I don’t understand.” There’s genuine confusion in her voice now, mingled with the ever-present fear.
