Page 52 of Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

I was ready to snap at him, but the words died on my tongue.

Because Ididfeel it.

His skin was neither warm nor cool, instead exactly the same temperature as the air. His chest rose and fell heavily under my palm, and I could feel the pulse of his heartbeat—vampire hearts beat slower than humans’, but his was quick right now, perhaps withanger or fear.

But what gave me pause was beneath all of that—something intertwined with his presence, his threads, into the very core of his being. It was so intense it drew a gasp from my lips. A withering decay that seemedalive, like it was trying to push further into him. I sensed, too, the strain of holding it off—the exhaustion.

My lips parted, but words escaped me. Our faces were so close, his breath warmed my mouth.

“So you see it now,” he said.

“What is this?” I choked out. “I’ve never felt anything like this.”

Once the initial shock faded, curiosity took over. Life as an Arachessen was not a boring one—I’d witnessed or inflicted every kind of injury, physical or magical. I’d seen curses before. Most of them felt like a cloud surrounding their target, something that slowly burrowed further. This… this was strange because itstartedso deep within him, like it was trying to eat its way out instead of in. It would have taken a very powerful sorcerer to plant it that deep.

I searched my mind for Obitraen history—for what I knew of the House of Blood.

“Is this your curse?” I asked. “The Bloodborn curse?”

A shiver of shame. My hand was still pressed to his chest—our bodies nearly entangled. In my surprise, I’d let my weight settle onto his knee, and his grip on my wrist had me practically curled onto his lap. Despite his impenetrable self-control, this close even he couldn’t hide his truth from me.

I knew he didn’t want to answer.

“No,” he said. “It’s something more than that.”

“A curse, though. An… additional curse.”

He was hesitant. “Yes.”

“How did you—who?—”

I pressed my hand harder against his chest, lost in my morbid fascination. It was probably some of the most advanced magic I’d ever seen. No, itwas, without equal,themost advanced magic I’d ever seen.

“What—whatisthis?”

I couldn’t help reaching deeper, pulling it apart with my magic. I was now fully in Atrius’s lap, but no longer noticed the awkwardness of it.

He asked gruffly, “Can you help?”

Weaver, what kind of a question was that? I didn’t even know how to answer it. My gut instinct was,Absolutely not. No one can. Whatever this is, it’s incurable.

I chose my words more carefully.

“I—I don’t know. I think it would take a very powerful healer to cure?—”

He let out a growl of frustration. “Notcure. I’m not a fucking fool. Just?—”

I had been so transfixed by this—thisthinginside of him that I had barely been paying attention to Atrius himself. Not until now, when I felt something strangely vulnerable from within his presence. It was so innocent, so guarded, that it almost seemed wrong for me to sense it at all.

He let out a breath. “Time. I needtime.”

Desperation burrowed, carefully hidden, into all the little crevices of his soul. I swallowed a stab of sympathy—sympathy, for the conqueror of my home.

Weaver fucking help me.

And yet I wasn’t sure if it was all an act when my voice softened in my answer.

“I’ll try,” I said, and beneath my palm I felt Atrius let out a long, slow exhale of relief.

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