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But our bond was strengthening. I could turn in place and be more sure in which direction he lay.

I could feel his admiration—and determination—as he continued to think and plan while he walked.

And I could feel the hot spark of love and possession he felt toward me.

The pride.

Jealousy over others being near me.

But under it all, that tender sense of unity.

We were in this together. And I had no doubt that any man who laid a hand on me did so at his own peril. I just prayed God wouldn’t give him occasion to actually kill. I wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself.

And then, just before he passed out of range of our ability to send words to each other, I felt him hesitate.

His mind turned back to mine, as if he’d reached with a hand across the space between us and twined our fingers.

For a moment, there were no words, just a warm, sweet rush of love—with a question under it.

‘What is it?’ I urged him, pushing hard because he was almost out of range.

‘You’re incredible,’ he whispered through the bond, his tone awed.

‘No, Voski, I just love you.’

He struggled with something for a moment, wrestling once more, only this time with darkness, rather than a man. I was about to ask, when he finally sent the question he’d been asking himself.

‘How can you love a monster?’

I blew out a breath, shaking my head. ‘You aren’t a monster. Your mother is. And I’m just praying all of this will show you that, once and for all.’

The Old Blood

~ VOSKI ~

Two guards, one on either side of the door, both leaped for me when I shoved my way into my mother’s suite. The two maids who’d been dressing Mother’s hair startled, squeaking as they whirled, but every servant froze when they saw my furious face.

“All of you. Out,” I snapped as I strode toward her. The servants looked warily to my mother for a cue.

She didn’t react to my appearance, except to turn, unhurriedly, on her seat to face me.

One brow arched, she tipped her head as if she indulged me, but she flapped a hand to the servants to leave as I’d ordered.

I stood over her, waiting as, behind me, the footsteps of the last guard paused while the maids skittered out of the room.

Mother opened her mouth, but I beat her to it.

“Leave the room if you wish to keep the blood in your veins,” I promised darkly.

For those who’d seen real magik at work, my senses appeared to be a demonstration of supernatural power. I’d done nothing but hone my awareness of movement and sound. Yet, to a man, staring at my back, it seemed as if I had eyes in the back of my head.

Mother gave me a pointed look, but the shuffling footsteps meant the guard had taken me seriously.

“Bad dreams putting you in a foul mood, Vane?” she sighed as the door snicked closed.

The dig was petty. A reminder of the ways I’d been tormented as a child—and how my power had manifested by communicating my nightmares to others with no ability to guard their minds from the dark magik.

I wanted to take her by the throat and shake her. Instead I smiled, promising the ten-year-old inside me that she would die painfully.