Then he stilled.
My eyes flew open. Adrenaline flooded my veins, sharp as lightning. What had he found?
“Oh, Nienna.” A chuckle vibrated through him. “You sly whore.” His mouth returned, this time drawing hard.
Deep inside, something ignited. Not fear. Defiance. I belonged to Tallon, not Egath. A growl ripped from my throat. I slammed my shoulder into his face.
Agony tore through my back, white and blinding. I cried out, teeth clenched, but forced my body off the bed. The floor struck my palms. I crawled, breath ragged, each movement dragging fire across torn skin.
He propped himself on one elbow, gaze fixed on me, amusement curling his mouth. He licked his lips.
“And he wouldn’t know.” He shook his head, laughter edged with disbelief. “The foolish boy would never even realize!”
“Know what?” I demanded. My spine hit the dresser. Wood pressed cold against scalded flesh. “He knows everything!”
Egath raised a finger, asking for patience, then slid from the bed to crouch before me. The boards creaked under his weight. “No. He believes what we all did. That Kallias Sunspear is a dud. Seedless. But that’s not true, is it?” His laughter barked, then his tongue traced his teeth. “We have waited for you to cycle, never once thinking to cleanse you.”
Ice flooded my veins. My palm moved to my belly, instinct stronger than sense, shielding the small life within. Fabric rustled under my trembling hand.
His bright gaze followed the motion. The grin softened into something almost regretful. “I am sorry. Tallon was never eager to mount you, but they’ll notice soon. Deimos isn’t blind. He’ll cleanse you to hasten matters, never considering who rests in your womb.”
The room tilted. Tears blurred the edges of him. They burned down my cheeks, salt stinging split lips. The threat eclipsed every bruise, every wound. They’d give me a tonic. Or a tea. Something bitter and steaming that would purge my womb.
The last fragment of Kallias would be gone.
“Please—pleasedon’t tell him.” It was pitiful, begging a Velli to delay the inevitable. Pride had long since been stripped from me. All that remained was survival, thin and desperate.
He tilted his head and reached out. Fingers curved under my chin, lifting my face. His touch held a gentleness that mocked the rest of him. For a breath, I could pretend there was care in it.
“You won’t tell him I drank from you.” His thumb brushed my lower lip, lingering with intent. “I will guard your secret, Dragon’s Heart, if you guard mine.”
What was one more? More of my blood coursing through someone’s veins? Egath was an Ichor. He drew strength from what he stole, nothing more. He could not command me with it. Could he? Hope felt brittle, like wheat under a merciless sun, stalks bowing until they snapped.
My head tipped aside in surrender, baring my neck. Tallon had removed my collar, trusting Egath in his absence. The bastard prince seemed to forget that in Vellos, loyalty didn’t lie in familial ties. Trust was currency spent on greedy, common goals.
A low sound of satisfaction left him. He rose instead of biting, arms sliding beneath me. He gathered me close, lifting as though I weighed nothing. My cheek pressed against his chest. He cradled me as if I were precious.
I was leverage—a means to an end. Nothing more.
He set me on the bed with care. The sheets cooled my overheated skin. His arm circled my waist, firm but not crushing. Fingers traced idle patterns along my hip and ribs, avoiding the worst of the damage. He kept his chest a breath away from my back, mindful of torn flesh, his restraint a quiet reminder that mercy from him always carried a cost.
“Keep still.” His whisper ghosted over my spine, cool against overheated skin. The scrape of his teeth hovered at the curve of my neck. One shift, a single careless inhale, and he could tear through muscle and vein before I drew another breath.
“It is natural to bite.” His lips pressed to me, soft, coaxing. “To hold prey in place, to latch on like a wild hound. Move, and both our secrets spill into the open.”
Dread settled into a steady rhythm. Each heartbeat struck hard against my ribs, driving fear deeper, pulse after pulse.
What was I doing? Offering myself. Yielding flesh, yielding blood. Honor felt like a distant land I’d once visited and would never see again. No path led back to it.
Yet my head tilted, baring more of my throat.
A few more days. That was all I needed. Time to breathe, to come to terms with what I had become. Egath would stay silent. His own life balanced on that promise. Even Deimos measured his tone around Tallon, wary of what power that bastard held.
His mouth returned to the torn skin. Closed. A restrained kiss. One last opportunity for refusal.
I did not take it.
Tears blurred my vision when wet warmth enveloped the wound as he latched on, keeping his fangs behind his lips. He would spill his own blood before piercing my flesh.
