Someone to the left of me clears their throat and I freeze. Quinn is to my right. Aamon is on the throne ahead of me. The only thing to the left should be the closed door and the hallway beyond. I crane my head to the side to peek out through the strands of my disheveled waves.
My eyes meet two glowing silver moons. Aamon hums his approval. The register of his words dip somehow even lower than it had before, dripping with wicked amusement. “Nice of you to finally join us, Sterling.”
Iwatch helplessly as Sterling shuts the door behind him, moving forward into the room. His eyes dart between me and Aamon, unsure of who to keep in his field of vision.
“Why are you here?” Aamon asks in a smug voice, still rubbing his fingers against the outline of his jaw.
“I, uh . . .” Sterling looks back over his shoulder to find my eyes. “I want . . .”
“I know what you want, Sterling. What I asked is why you're here.” Silence rings through the air. Sterling’s scared, that much I can see. But he’s wound tight with need, and his eyes devour the sight of me like this. I lick my lips, feeling just as desperate for him.
“If you cannot relay your desires better than this, then perhaps you should turn around and leave.This isn’t the space nor the time for uncertainty.” Aamon gestures towards the door, turning his gaze away from Sterling.
The action has me feeling suddenly rather protective of Sterling. I grimace, wanting to chastise Aamon for his tone. Wanting to remind him that while Quinn and Aamon may be comfortable, he's torn, having just walked away from whatever was transpiring between him and Zeke to be here with us.
But before I can act on my impulse, Quinn tugs on the rope once more, tightening his hold on me and forcing my view of the two males to be obstructed by a mess of my hair and the sheets my face is now pressed against.
The sight must be all the push Sterling needs, because he steps between me and Aamon, chest puffed out and shoulders strong.
“I’m here for this. For her. Whatever you’ve started here with Quinn and Evangeline, I want to be a part of it.”
There’s a pause in the air, a moment that feels like an eternity. My breath hitches, my neck strains, and my hands pull hard on my restraints. I want to run to him, want to tell him how badly I want that too, but all I can do is kneel and wait.
“Do you understand what you're asking for, Sterling?” Aamon finally responds, tone turning deathly serious.
I hear Sterling swallow before answering.
“Yes.”
Just one word, but my eyes prick with tears at the sound of it.
I hear the creak of the throne as Aamon shifts forward. “You’re not just asking her to be bound to you,” he explains. “I won’t have her tied to anyone that is not also tied to me.”
“I understand.” Sterling responds almost immediately. My eyes go wide, a mixture of hope and nerves squeezing my heart so hard I fear it will pop.
“A bloodbond is no light matter.” Aamon is on his feet now. I can hear the slow, steady tap of his boots as he moves forward and begins circling Sterling. I shake my head, trying to brush my hair from my eyes and crane my neck ever further than I already have to watch them, but I’m only able to manage a distorted view of their lower halves as they dance around each other.
“I’m well aware,” Sterling replies, a bit more bite in his voice. I know how seriously Aamon takes these decisions. He doesn’t make light of something like this, and what Sterling is asking—even I know it’s a lot.
“And yet, you still request this of me?” Aamon stops just behind Sterling, both males facing forward.
“Please.” I barely hear the whispered exchange. Every muscle in my body goes tense as I await Aamon’s reply.
He inhales deeply, letting a moment pass as he taps his foot against the concrete floor. I fear I’m going to crack, words crawling up my throat and threatening to break past my lips—a whole speech prepared to explain to Aamon why weneed this, why we needhim. But he finally moves, leaning in slightly and resting a hand upon Sterling’s shoulder.
“Then get on your knees and beg for my blood.”
My jaw falls slack and I whip my head up in one swift motion. To my surprise, I find slack in the rope and I cut my gaze over to Quinn. He nods subtly, silently directing my attention back to Aamon and Sterling.
I watch with bated breath as the hand on Sterling’s shoulder urges him down. Sterling doesn’t fight it. Not even a little bit. He sinks to his knees, and I breathe a sigh of relief to see more of him. The silhouette of his face is tight, his shoulders rigid as he follows Aamon’s orders and bows before him.
Aamon huffs out a breath of air, something akin to a laugh, as he makes his way back to his dais. It falls silent in the red room once more as Aamon situates himself upon the throne. He leans forward, elbows on his knees as he watches Sterling carefully. “Proceed,” he orders at last.
“Please, Aamon. You don’t understand how badly I need this.”
“On the contrary, I am well aware of the aura Evangeline possesses. The way she makes you feel like you’ll die if you don’t get a touch.” His masked face jerks up to meet mine, and despite not being able to see his eyes, I know they're searing into me. “A taste.”
He lingers on me for a moment, before turning his attention back to Sterling on the floor. “But that’s not whatI asked of you, Sterling. I told you to beg forme, formyblood.” Aamon grits his teeth as he speaks, his rough, threatening tone slipping through the air. “And once you’ve convinced me you are worthy enough to be bound to me, you can take your chances with Evangeline. It’s her decision to be bloodbound to you, not mine. And before I will even deign to let you ask such a question, I will make you surrender yourself to me.”
