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Elarian’s words faded the moment she saw the glint of polished steel. Her breath caught as she took a step forward. That deep hunger flared anew, a bloodthirst to rival his. Watching it burn for someone beside himself almost made Lucan wish to claim her then and there. Instead, he forced down the memories of her body against his and finished pulling out the long chain hidden in an inner pocket.
“I think you will walk in there with me, offer yourself to Kyare as my gift, and then strangle him until his neck snaps. Or is that too much to ask of an assassin?”
“And what’s to say I won’t strangle you instead?”
She took a step forward, a wicked smile spreading her lips, tongue darting out to wet them like a predator.
“Do you want the convenient answer or the truth, Elarian?”
Despite her bravado, Elarian would not turn against him—not tonight, at least. Maddened by the way her pulse had raced beneath his fingertips throughout court and the scent of her pleasure each time she shifted against his lap, he knew she ached for his touch just as much as his death. If she did well tonight, he saw no reason not to satisfy at least one of her cravings. Merely helping her fall from grace—nothing else.
Elarian huffed as she replied, “I suppose the convenient answer is because that—” She gestured at the steel chain in his grip, “—is not silver, and I will find no hidden blade to carve out your heart.”
“It’s a theory.”
She grimaced at his reply. Permitting herself only that barest display of emotion, the cold mask of her indifference returned once again.
“Fine. This…chain to subdue him. I presume there are knives in his apartment.” Her attention drifted, likely conjuring a thousand different ways she might dispose of the vampire.
“You are the assassin who has bled my court white for nearly a century, Elarian. I trust you will find a way to continue even in captivity.”
She laughed before replying, “Loosened by you! Has your life gotten so dull that this was your only solution? Let me carve my way through the castle until I turn my blade upon you when your attention slips?”
Lucan stepped closer, pulling the thin chain taut between them.
“My attention will never falter where you are concerned. Do not forget that.”
Elarian’s pulse lurched as she trembled, that fury in her gaze boring through him until he wondered if she saw the broken remnants of his humanity.
“Then I hope you enjoy a bloody show,” she whispered.
Elarian turned away before Lucan could think. She marched toward the broad doors to Lord Kyare’s apartments, then rapped upon them with such ferocity, he thought the wood might splinter beneath her fist. Clothed in crimson silk, bruises from those first forbidden nights faded from her skin, she looked every inch a radiant goddess of war.
He could scarcely wait to watch her work.
The doors groaned inward a moment later. Lord Kyare stood at the threshold in silken sleeping pants and a robe, swallowed whole by the darkness behind him. Two faint witchlights flickered in the recesses of his apartments. Too easy, Lucan thought. This would be much too easy indeed.
“Your Highness!” Lord Kyare yelped as he bowed low. “I did not expect the honor of a personal visit tonight. My apologies for the darkness.”
Lucan huffed and strode toward Elarian, wrapping his arm around her waist before entering Lord Kyare’s chambers. She mirrored his steps, easily concealing the golden chain linking her collar to his bracelet. Gods, she was exquisite—this impossible creature who played the game as masterfully as any vampire.
Already consumed by the hunt, she scarcely seemed to notice when he slipped one hand to her collar and silently unlinked the chain binding them.
“Your move, darling,” he murmured.
She shuddered at his words. The weight of her hips brushing against his cock drew a sharp breath from him. Forcing his attention back to Kyare, Lucan greeted him with a warm smile.
“I find myself in need of a favor, Lord Kyare.”
Kyare smiled, all crooked teeth and eager eyes, oblivious to the predator now unleashed by Lucan’s side.
“If it is within my power, my prince,” he replied carefully.
“Oh, I know it is.”
Lucan stepped aside. Kyare’s attention settled upon Elarian; his eyes widened as he drank her in. His gaze lingered upon the pale curve of her throat, the fitted, crimson silk hugging her waist, and her bare feet on the cool marble floor. Even in the dim room, Lucan saw the bulge growing in his trousers.
What a simple, pathetic creature—too obsessed with beauty to see the blade beneath.
