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“Get your fucking poison away from me!” Elarian screeched as a shadow moved in her blurred vision. White and red swam in front of her before Lucan’s cool fingers wrapped around her shoulder. “I don’t need your help, shivaem.”

To her surprise, Lucan withdrew his hand and stepped away. Forcing her eyes to focus, she saw him standing with one hand on the bedpost, studying her as if she were a puzzle he must solve. She wished for nothing more than to scrape her skin raw until his festering touch became nothing more than a memory; but the longer her fever raged, the more she was willing to abandon her morals for even a moment of relief.

And in front of her stood a creature who delighted in pain—if only she could find the cracks to lean into.

Slowly, Elarian lifted her gaze until their eyes met.

“You’ve made a fool of me, Lucan Valmere,” she said slowly.

One pale brow arched high.

“I expected more from the infamous Blooded Prince.” She took a shaky step forward, hands never leaving the wall at her side. Her gaze wandered over his face, taking in the way his jaw clenched with her words. “But now, I fear I’ve wasted my time on you when the only real threat in this world is your master.”

Lucan did not move, but something shifted behind his stony gaze.

“You claimed to hate me, chained me to your wall.” She laughed quietly as she took another step forward. “Yet now you feed me like a wounded animal. Tell me—surely you have not grown a conscience so soon?”

The distance between them vanished in a heartbeat. His hand coiled with shadows wrapped around her slender throat, nails digging in until she yelped. Her pulse leapt wildly beneath his fingers.

“You know nothing of who I am, elf,” he spat back, fangs flashing in the dim light as they drew closer to her face. The seam of gold in his right fang glittered like the sun. “Speak to me like that again, and you will forget you ever knew the meaning of kindness.”

Elarian smiled wickedly. Do it, she wished to say. Bite me, cut me, make me bleed as we play this wretched game.

Instead, she prodded again at the wound he tried to hide from the world.

“Tell me, Lucan, are you only keeping me alive long enough to tell yourself you’re nothing like Aurel—”

One long, sharpened nail sliced down on Elarian’s neck before she could finish her taunt. Lucan’s grip tightened until Elarian could not breathe, silently gasping as her world blurred. A moment later, pain bloomed in the place where Lucan had cut her skin, a thick droplet of silvery-red blood welling to the surface before sliding down the slope of her neck.

Another thin ribbon of silver followed.

The relief was exquisite even as her lungs burned for air. Her knees weakened with something dangerously akin to gratitude. As Lucan held his grip tight, eyes boring into her, she felt herself melting. Goddess forgive me, she thought as she closed her eyes and let the fires fade.

She truly wanted him to keep hurting her.

twenty-eight

Gilded Obeisance

Thirst clawed at Lucan’s mind. Each breath that dragged across his bone-dry throat surely would be his last.

Elarian leaned on the wall just beyond his reach, clutching her neck, silvery-red blood slowly welling through her fingers. It traced a delicate path down the curve of her collarbone, pooling at her breasts before dripping to the floor below. A delirious smile spread her full lips wide, almost as if she savored the sting of air over raw flesh. Starlight gathered in her pale eyes.

She looked…thankful?

“Never utter his name again,” he said at last.

His shoulder twitched, the skin suddenly hot as he recalled Aurelion’s latest punishment. Breathing in deeply, he rolled his shoulders back.

“Your blade is only so useful to me.”

Lucan turned away before that maddening smile could root itself any deeper into his marrow. Each step toward the carved walnut wardrobe standing beside the empty hearth felt like stepping through molten lava. Shadows billowed around his feet, trailing back to the elf as if reluctant to follow. Grinding his teeth, Lucan forced the writhing mass back into its cage. He stilled for a moment before the inky blackness settled once more around his heart.

“Breathe, Ela.”

Elarian’s whispered words burrowed under Lucan’s skin. He was certain she did not mean for him to hear the relief in her words, threaded with confusion. Did she want him to hurt her? A game of hers, perhaps, or some other motive fueled by a truth even she could not admit? Lucan forced his questions to the side and opened the thick wardrobe doors.

Sitting on a shelf near eye-level, a thin, golden collar and chain rested on a pillow of midnight silk.