“I’llneverlet her go,” I growl, then fall forward, digging my hands into the dirt, pouring every single fucking drop of that heat into the ground. Givingherto the soil and the trees and the seeds and the stone, when all I really want is to keep her tucked beneath my ribs.
Safe.
A mighty rumble breaks apart the silence, and a flock of krah scatter as the ground begins to shake. As trees snap and fall, crumbling a hole in the canopy.
The ground splits, the same sensation spurring through the tips of my fingers as a ring of massive obsidian sabers erupts in a burst of soil and stone, spearing upward. The grass takes on a richer shade of green. Silver vines crawl up the black stones, budding, flushing with argent blooms that slant their faces toward the sky.
There is nothing silent about the way I curse the Gods, planting this refuge in the soil. A permanent safety ring for anyone who might be stumbling through the shadows, hunted and hungry.
I will not fall silently into their fate.
Neither will she.
My spine arches, skin itching, fingers threading so deep I lose sight of them entirely. I pour until not adropof her lustrous warmth is trapped inside my chest. Nothing but the seed—silently pulsing.
And for a single precious moment, I can almost will myself to believe she’s free of me.
Of this.
Just …free.
Men, women, and children scuttle into the corners, looking at me through wide, bulging eyes as I stride past cell after cell. Like they believe they’re seeing Kvath in the flesh, hunting the next soul he wishes to snatch.
Despite the way those stares grate at me, this powerful sensation surges through my veins, making me feel bigger.
Stronger.
Down here,Ipull the strings. Weave whatever the fuck I want.
I’min control.
I’ll be feeding into this desire soon—so close to taking the seat of power in Ocruth. Takinghisfamily home. Flattening it to the ground.
A big, finalfuck you.
It’ll be even sweeter with Orlaith at my side. I’ll wait until she’s in heat, then fuck her in the rubble. Fill her womb. Make her mine in every way.
After tonight, I’ll be surprised if she ever thinks of him again. I plan on keeping her locked away in the coupling chamber until she’s sospent—so smothered in my cum and scent—that the only word she remembers how to say ismy name.
Mine.
I exit the hall to find Father coiled on the ground at the edge of his feeding arena, his chains pushed to their limits, stressing the twisted, crumpled skin at his wrists. His head is tucked beneath his arms, hands threaded together and resting over the back of it like a shield.
He’s trembling, crouched in his own puddle of piss, blood dribbling down his back—a sure sign he’s been moving around, stretching his limbs, the glass bolts’ tapered tips shredding through his muscle and flesh.
I look at the woman slung across the ground with her throat torn open, her hair a spill of strawberry wine. Her wide, unseeing eyes glisten like amber gemstones in the beam of evening light spearing from above.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Dammit,” I mutter with a shake of my head, screwing my eyes shut.
The last thing I feel like doing before my coupling is digging a fucking hole, but I can’t leave the body here. If I don’t remove them fast enough, he becomes possessive, clinging to them like some sort of pet—hauling them about, chatting to them.
Telling them he loves them.
I think of the time he clung to one so long it began falling apart, forcing me to remove it in bits.
“I went too far.”
My eyes snap open at Father’s gnarled, rusty voice, gaze narrowing on him. His head is lifted, inky pools cast on me, but there’s …somethingabout them that makes him look more animated than he usually is.
