Page 20 of To Sway a Demon Heart

“Jealousy is a powerful motivator,” I recalled, remembering Elara’s words.

“But I think it was seeing you here and having you not bat an eye,” he said, gazing at me thoughtfully. “I had convinced myself that the moment you saw my court, interacted with it, and realized who I truly was, you would run.” He swept my hair over my shoulder, admiring the golden strands. “But then you didn’t. You accepted it. Called it beautiful. Held your own with my nobles. And still somehow wanted me.”

“You had too little faith in me,” I admonished, trying to look a little smug at this admission.

“Guilty as charged,” Tyr admitted, his firm lips curving into a smile that showed the glint of fangs. “I also…”

He trailed off, smile darkening to a frown. “What?” I pushed. “Tell me.”

He sighed, looking pained again. “I’m afraid that I will do to you what my father did to my mother. That you will come to hate me as she hated him.”

“Tyr,” I soothed, stroking comforting lines across the bridge of his nose and down his cheek. His face was the only part of him that was wholly unscarred, and I realized it was because it would have been too hard for his father to explain away injuries there. I hated the male even more. “Would you ever hurt me like your father hurt you? Hurt our child, or any child, that way?”

“Never,” Tyr vowed, shaking his head to emphasize. “Gods, Brigid, I would never. I swear it.”

“I know,” I said, trying to calm his rising panic with another kiss. “I know. Which is how I know that what happened between your parents won’t happen to us.”

“If I were ever to raise a hand to you, or to our—” He cut himself off, swallowing as he contemplated the horror of it. “Or to our child,” he finally said.

I had a momentary flash of that child, with red hair and blue eyes, or maybe golden-haired and green-eyed, carried on Tyr’s shoulders and cradled tenderly in his arms. I banished the image. Only mated couples could have children, and they were a rare blessing, but we had time for all of that.

“I would want you to burn it off,” he finished, looking resolute. “To leave me and take our child, as my mother should have done. But I would never, Brigid,” he added, looking so fierce I wanted to kiss him. “Never again. Forgive me for the hurt I already inflicted.”

“It’s forgiven,” I said, caving to my desire to kiss him. I wound my arms around him, embracing his scars and every broken part of him, and pressed my head to his chest once more. He folded me into him, wrapping his arms around me so that we were too entwined for anything other than the gods themselves to separate us.

“Although,” I added, feeling like it might be time to lighten the mood and glancing up with a little smirk, “Elara has told me that prolonged groveling can be extremely satisfying for a female.”

“Hmm,” Tyr hummed, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “I’m not opposed to doing some groveling. But are you even up for another round tonight? It’s very late.”

“I just remembered,” I said, sitting up and making Tyr grunt as I accidentally elbowed him in the ribs. “Draven.”

“Why are you speaking another male’s name right now?” Tyr growled, sitting up to meet me and distracting me with a kiss to my throat. He trailed his fangs over my pulse, and I shuddered at the idea of him sinking them into me. Something to explore another night.

“You lied to him,” I said, a little breathless as Tyr attempted to distract me further. “You told me the shadow beast was made with blood magic, but you told him it was shadow magic run awry.”

“I did,” Tyr agreed, groaning a bit as he flicked a thumb over my pebbled nipple. Heat rose in me, a cooling warmth that demanded satiating. “Do you really want to talk about that right now?”

I didn't, and Tyr made it too difficult to talk for the rest of the night anyway.

Chapter 12

“Nowexplainthelie,”I demanded over breakfast.

I had woken to an empty bed, Tyr’s side rumpled and cold in the gray morning light. My momentary panic had been stilled by him clattering through the door, a steaming tray in his arms and a rose clenched between his teeth. It was the most adorable thing I had ever seen, and breakfast had to wait until I had thoroughly expressed my admiration.

We were sitting across from each other now, cross-legged atop the sheets. I wore Tyr’s shirt from the night before, and he kept shooting me heated looks as if he was restraining himself from ripping it right off me.

“I thought it was rather obvious,” Tyr replied, taking a bite of burned toast and frowning at it. He had made the breakfast himself, and it was too sweet a gesture for me to complain about the burnt edges. “I think it was him.”

“Draven?” I asked, raising my eyebrows in surprise. “You think he can command blood magic?”

“We never figured out who was working with Scathanna,” Tyr pointed out, a hard look flashing across his face. “It must have been someone from Blood to help her control her casters, but I thoroughly questioned my court. It was none of them.”

I remembered Tyr’s version of thorough questioning from Mithloria, no doubt learned from his father. I suppressed a shudder, both of disgust and terror for the boy that Tyr was, taught how to use violence to break or bend someone’s will. He had been driven to do terrible things to protect his court and the Darklands.

There would be no more terrible things as long as I was around.

“So you think Draven somehow learned blood magic?” I asked, still frowning over this assumption.