Page 93 of Hellbound

He pinned her wrist to the wall, squeezing until Caromir fell from her hand and clattered to the ground.

“Almost.”

Almost. Ksenia narrowed her eyes, tasting his blood on her lips.

“Perhaps you’d amount to something if you weren’t so reckless.” He ran his thumb over the small puncture her canine had left on his lip. “So many other ways to kill me, but you can’t help overextending yourself.”

He raked an elegant hand through his dripping curls, his eyes half-lidded and hungry as he surveyed her like a snake he wished to charm.

She promised, in due time, she’d strike true.

But she wouldn’t kill him right away.

No.

She would find out what made him tick. Take him apart. Make him feel. Then rip out his beating heart.

25

The next morning, Ksenia woke in her bed at the manor with the low hum of blood still rushing beneath her skin, dark and intoxicating. She extricated herself from the tangled bedsheets to splash water on her face in the bathroom.

The biting cold did little to soothe the deep pull in her chest, every sound pulsing in her head. And she wasn’t sure if it was from the bloodlust or something else.

She could smell Bohdan on her clothes, feel the imprint of his body pressed against hers.

Unwelcome but irresistible fantasies dripped down the walls of her mind—of tearing him to shreds and him tearing into her with equal measure. She gripped the lip of the sink.

He was proving to be a difficult problem to solve.

She had to get underneath his skin. But the closer she got, the closer he would get to finding out the truth.

The biting hunger in her stomach led her to the kitchen where a baker was kneading dough, folding in fresh herbs and spices as she went.

She was far from Brannfels, but she still recalled the tastes of her neighborhood.

She and Danika were fond of the sugary twists of bread, with ribbons of salty crushed nuts mixed in.

She glanced at the baker now. “Can you make sugar twists?”

The baker clapped her hands, a puff of flour escaping her palms.

“I can make anything. I didn’t take you for a sweet tooth though.”

“Common trait I share with my sister,” Ksenia said softly, the dust trailing through the air disturbed by her sigh.

With her freshly baked pastry bundled in her pack, she ventured to Hearth. There was only one day left before the final challenge, but she had other pressing matters to attend to.

With a wound like the one she’d witnessed, Danika would have to return to the medical wing eventually to change her bandages and check the healing progress.

Ksenia stuffed a pastry in her mouth and waited for her mark from the balustrade above.

Before long, a telltale flash of flaxen blonde caught her eye. Danika’s arm was in better shape, less soiled than when she’d last seen her.

She took her time, winding down the stone corridor and staircase that led to the medical wing’s entrance, keeping her distance while Danika and the nurse made idle small talk to distract from the pain of changing the dressing.

Danika finally took her leave, walking down the rows of beds toward the entrance, where Ksenia stood in the hallway.

She regarded Ksenia’s rust-orange dress, its edges trimmed in gold, and the soft slippers she wore.