Samson’s metal hand reached out and lowered Kidan’s weapon. “Come, I need a taste of that fiery blood.”
She tried not to hurl. With great effort, Kidan lowered her hand and climbed the stairs, wiping Yos’s blood off her dagger knife.
I’m sorry.
Susenyos’s arm hung out of the cellar gate, and she could have sworn he was smiling in the dark.
Upstairs, morning light streamed through the large windows, an odd contrast to the darkness raging beneath the house. June had not set foot in the house since she tried to kill Kidan. A part of her was glad. It was easier this way, but she couldn’t remove the root of worry growing each day. Horrible thoughts cut at her. What if another student had killed June and buried her outside of Uxlay? Dranacti made monsters of the most innocent.
Stop thinking about her. Let her go.
Samson approached and offered her the glass she usually poured her blood into. “Cut.”
Kidan put her knife on the table and offered him her neck instead. He had been so careful to not let her anywhere near his thoughts or memories, but this was the quickest way to strengthen their bond. Kidan hoped her expression didn’t show the disgust she felt.
Caution flickered in his pupils. Kidan increased the room’s natural heat, lulling it to a comforting hue. Pulling on those threads.
“I don’t mind,” she said, her eyes hooking into his. “Do you?”
Samson approached her slowly, hunger and a confused glint in his eye. Against her thigh, the cutting loop symbol grew warm.
He didn’t bite her neck, denying her a glimpse into his desire. Instead, Samson lifted her wrist, traced it with a single metal finger that chilled her. His fangs emerged, white against a dark jawline and she steeled herself as he bit into her.
The room spun and distorted itself into a different time and space.
A childhood memory… of Susenyos, dressed regally with a crown on his thickhair—the same crown Kidan fashioned into a necklace. The pair sat outside in a field, the castle behind them. A girl with unblemished brown skin passed by and Samson pulled out grass, avoiding her eyes. Susenyos shook with laughter, teasing. They were sixteen, maybe seventeen.
“If you keep looking at my betrothed, I’ll tear out your eyes,” Susenyos said, mischief dancing in his eyes.
“You don’t even love her.”
“So? We’re to be married.”
“You have to grow a beard to marry,” Samson shot back.
Susenyos wrapped his arm around Samson’s throat, and they wrestled, catching the girl’s attention. Talaa rushed toward them, the sun bright behind her.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Fighting for your hand in marriage.” Susenyos gave her a wide smile.
“I’m not marrying either of you,” she declared. “Because you won’t give me what I want.”
The boys stopped struggling.
“But you’ll be an empress, you can have anything you want.” Susenyos straightened.
Samson frowned. “I’ll pick you flowers every day. I know you like to put them in your hair.”
“What girl chooses flowers over a crown?” Susenyos laughed, making Samson narrow his eyes.
Talaa settled between them, her dress billowing out. “I don’t want those things.”
They were mesmerized by her beauty, and it took them a while to ask, “Then what do you want?”
“I want to be immortal.”
The image faded into the present and Kidan inhaled sharply when Samson yanked his fangs away.