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I flinched before I could catch the reflex. Father smiled.

Clenching my teeth, I grabbed the lapels of my jacket and tugged them down, straightening my posture and glaring back at him. “I didn’t ask to undermine you. I asked to be acknowledged. That is all.”

His jaw rolled, but Mother’s head tipped and her expression grew sharp.

As slowly as I dared, I turned on my heel and started for the door, heart pounding, but rage simmering in my chest as well.

I didn’t blow out the breath I’d been holding until I was storming down the corridor outside, frustrated and fighting fear.

I couldn’t let them take Cali! They had to see that I was old enough, and strong enough, to hold my own.

But I should have known that I could trust my mother to make a way.

That evening, my father appeared in my chambers, his expression odd. His jaw was tight as if he were angry, but there was a light in his eyes. Anticipation. Delight.

“Your seat at the table will be declared on the night of the hunt,” he muttered.

I blinked, stifling the childish urge to leap at him and thank him. “I…”

“Make no mistake, Vane. You carry not only your own power, but ours with you. There will be protest. And if you fail, it will weaken all of us.”

“I won’t fail!”

He smiled a cold smile. “I don’t believe you will, either.” His confidence felt strange. When he leaned in, I expected a threat. But his smile grew broader. “I can’t wait to watch you muddle your way through, son.” He clapped a hand to my neck, patted twice, then chuckled. “I plowed the field that seeded you. And it’s my blood that runs in your veins. When you’re unsure, watch me. I’ll show you the way.”

He clapped my shoulder once, then turned to leave. I didn’t know why I was so unsettled by his light mood. As he reached the door, I cleared my throat to keep my voice low when I spoke.

“She’s not a slut. She’s… she’s my Pair. I’ll claim her. This time. And next time. Every time, until she’s mine.”

Father hesitated with his hand on the doorknob, then looked at me over his shoulder, still smiling. “I have absolutely no doubt that you will, Vane.”

Then he left.

But the uneasy weight in my chest wouldn’t shift.

Grace stared at me like I’d proposed murder. Which, sadly, wasn’t far from the truth.

“The hunt is a ritual,” I explained in a breath. “A sick parody of hunting animals. Except, the prey are people, and the terms of success are determined by agreement beforehand. The Cruors use it to gain power through blood magik, or to increase their rank by beating another to the prey.”

“A hunt?” Grace breathed, blinking rapidly. “The same as our… That is, the way we sometimes… unite?”

I swallowed hard. This was part of why I’d been reluctant to tell her this story. Because I knew she’d draw the parallel. And I couldn’t deny the connection. I was determined to make her see the difference, but in her innocence, could she even comprehend?

Coward that I was, I held her face, keeping her eyes on me, and reached for her through the link so there was no chance my voice would fail me.

‘The hunt ritual isn’t what I showed you, Grace. You have my word. Those hours we’ve shared, they’re precious. Intimate. An expression of my love and desire for you.’

She licked her lips. ‘Yet, you call it the hunt?’

I inhaled sharply and wanted to flinch. But she deserved the truth. ‘I do, and… there’s no doubt my appetites were molded in this. In those years.’ I felt her tense and rushed on. ‘But the experience is entirely different—what I seek in you, the way we delight in that pursuit… it’s a joy, Grace. I’m not bringing you this darkness. You have my word.’

Her brows pinched, her expression earnest, as if she wanted to believe me, but was uncertain. I took her hand and placed it at the center of my chest, pressing it hard, right next to my heart. ‘Feel me, Grace. Sense me. Ask the dragons—I have no bloodlust for you. No desire to harm, or hurt you. There is nothing dark in what we shared. When I seek you, it’s a thrill. An adventure. Something I would not share with others. And would cease in a moment if it hurt you.’

‘But you have? Done that, I mean. With others?’ There was no accusation in her tone—she sought clarity. But, just as her fingers pressed against my chest, seeking my heart, I sought hers, also.

She was afraid. Uneasy about the ways I’d been intimate with her. She wanted to understand. But she feared it, as well.

‘Yes,’ I admitted reluctantly. ‘But I never will again.’