She didn’t know what his blood had done.
And she sure as hell didn’t know what it meant to be bound to something like him.
The fire popped, a spark cracking through the room as another fever chill shook her body.
Rhen took one step toward the bed.
Then stopped.
The medic had already regulated the room, covered her, and done everything the transition allowed. There was nothing his hands could add except another complication.
A low, tortured sound broke past her lips.
The transition wanted more of his blood.
The tether demanded proximity.
He hated both.
Veya was not salvation.
She was not redemption.
She was an unknown human carrying hostile magic and enough of his blood to make her his responsibility.
Nothing more.
Rhen downed the rest of the bourbon in a brutal swallow, the burn trailing fire through his throat. It settled heavily in his gut, bitter as regret.
It was going to be a long night.
And it was only the beginning.
Chapter 5
In the luxury of the east wing, the cold, ancient bones of the fortress seemed a world away.
Here, warmth reigned.
An enormous bed of dark wood dominated the room, its frame carved with ancestral symbols and its posts wrapped in silken drapes that shimmered like liquid gold. Yet nothing in the room compared to her.
Leena sat beside the hearth with one hand resting gently upon the curve of her swollen belly, the firelight painting her skin in soft amber. With the prophecy-laced pregnancy at full term, she looked almost ethereal.
The child within her was the clan’s hope. The promised heir. The future.
Her dark hair spilled over one shoulder in a cascade of soft waves, and her eyes held the kind of quiet strength capable of silencing rooms. Sule stood across from her, half in shadow, watching.
She still took his breath away.
Even now.
Especially now.
Leena traced slow, soothing circles over the curve of her belly, a soft smile playing upon her lips. She had not asked for this destiny, but in Sule, she had found something she had not even known she needed: love, safety, and a bond deeper than prophecy.
The firelight danced across her features, illuminating the quiet power in her eyes and the calm that steadied a fortress built upon blood.
Sule moved closer, unable to ignore the weight gathering inside his chest. He knelt beside her and rested one hand atop hers, both of them cradling the life growing within her—theirchild, their legacy. His thumb moved in slow, reverent circles across her taut skin, pausing when a faint kick stirred beneath his palm.
