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My pride tells me to deny him the satisfaction of seeing me accept anything from his hands, but pride won’t help me find Sable.

Kylian watches me, his expression unreadable. Does he enjoy this? This moment of struggle, of seeing me war with myself over something as simple as accepting food? Perhaps this is entertainment for him, the internal battle of a trapped human laid bare for his amusement.

I take a step toward the table, then another. My reflection stares back at me from the polished silver, distorted and strange. I hesitate, guilt making my hands too heavy to lift.

Kylian stands nearby, watching with an unsettling stillness. He doesn’t seem to breathe unless he’s speaking, that much I’ve noticed. It’s like being in a room with a beautiful statue, one that might reach out and snap your neck.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, watching me curiously when I don’t move to pry off the lid. His voice is deceptively gentle, like he cares about the answer.

I shake my head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing my thoughts. Besides, feeling guilty won’t put food in Sable’s belly, nor can I find her if I’m weak with starvation.

My hand shakes as I lift the lid slowly, revealing a bowl of soup with vegetables floating in what smells like chicken broth. Beside it sits a slice of bread and a small bowl of berries and apple slices.

The first spoonful is heaven. Warmth spreads through my chest, thawing something frozen inside me. I force myself to eat slowly, though every instinct screams at me to devour it all before it can be taken away. A lifetime of scarcity has taught me that food, like everything else, is temporary.

“You’re still not eating?” I ask, watching him from the corner of my eye as I take another spoonful.

“I’m not hungry,” he replies, the words hanging between us with unspoken meaning.

I pause, the spoon halfway to my mouth. My stomach tightens with understanding. “For . . . food?” I clarify, though I already know the answer.

“No.”

“But vampires eat,” I state, remembering the table at the castle covered in different dishes and goblets full of wine.

One shoulder lifts in a casual shrug. “We don’t require food like humans, which is why I forgot to bring you something earlier. If you’re hungry, you may need to remind me.”

The spoon trembles slightly in my hand. How easily he admits to forgetting something so essential to my survival. How casually he reminds me that, to him, I’m an afterthought, a pet to be fed if he remembers.

When the bowl is empty, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, ignoring the napkin folded neatly beside the plate.

“Thank you,” I say, the words bitter on my tongue. Gratitude to my captor, Sable would be disgusted. What would Arlo say? Guilt smashes into me as he flits through my mind, knowing the Vampire King has touched me in the most intimate ways in the last two days while Arlo has been suffering in a cage somewhere, whipped raw and bloody for trying to protect me and our sisters.

The bread and fruit remain untouched, but I can’t bring myself to eat more. Not with him watching. Not with thoughts of Sable going hungry, churning my stomach into knots.

“You should eat the rest,” he says, nodding toward the food. “You’ll need your strength.”

“Why can’t I leave this room?”

He studies me for a long moment, those inhuman eyes revealing nothing. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. A meal? A burden? A means to an end?

“It’s for your protection,” he finally says.

“Protection from what? The crew?”

Something flashes across his face, but it’s gone too quickly to tell. “Yes,” he admits. “The crew would drain you dry, and I don’t trust Zander’s men around you, but they know better than to enter my room.” His gaze drops to my neck for a moment before returning to my eyes.

The food feels heavy in my stomach now, and I regret accepting anything from his hands, but it’s too late. The only path to Sable leads straight through him.

He turns, moving to the windows, his steps silent against the wooden floor. His shoulders are broad beneath his dark shirt, his posture unnaturally perfect as he checks the heavy curtains I was peeking through earlier.

“I thought I told you not to touch the curtains?” he snaps, tugging them back into place where a sliver of light shines through. His jaw is tight, tension radiating from him.

“I was just trying to see outside. I’ve never been on a ship before, which is why I’d love to get out of this room.”

He turns to face me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he just stares with those unnatural eyes. “I took you from the Lycan King as my prisoner,” he finally says. “They believe I’ve taken you as a feeder.”

My stomach twists, appetite curdling instantly. Feeder. The word itself is dirty, tainted with shame and degradation. Feeders are humans kept by vampires for their blood, used and discarded when their veins collapse, when their blood turns sour from too many bites, or when they simply die.