King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(47)

“It is not the same,” he said.

“You fuck her and drain her blood. How is it not the same?”

“I have never fucked her,” he snarled.

I felt like my chest was going to explode. After a moment of quiet, he tilted his head back, which made the shadows darken the hollows of his cheeks.

“If I were to partake of your blood, I would have no use for her,” he said. He was attacking my jealousy, as if to say the way to end this is to give me everything.

“And if you fucked her, you would have no use for me,” I said.

“You say that as if you would not mind,” he said, closing the space between us.

I shouldn’t, but he already knew I cared. By the fucking goddess. Why did I care?

“Think of how I touched you last night.” He trailed his fingers down my face. “Imagine another woman in your place.”

I gripped his wrist to keep him from continuing his exploration, but I did not pull away from his touch.

“I don’t want to care,” I said. I was desperate not to care, even as resentment built inside me—toward Adrian, toward Safira.

“You do not have to be embarrassed by your desire, even if it is for me. Sex is a primal need. You have every right to satisfy it.”

At his statement, I wondered when I’d departed from my original idea of what sex was supposed to be like between us. It was meant to be a passionate release, not an emotional investment, and here I was, fighting jealousy over all of it, even the bloodletting.

We stood chest to chest, my head bent back so that I could meet his gaze, and I wasn’t sure I liked who stared back—a man with gentle eyes and a soft expression, a man who longed for a connection I could not give.

His palm pressed to my cheek; his lips hovered near mine. “One day, I will make love to you, and I look forward to that day.”

“Are you a dreamer, Your Majesty?” I whispered.

A small smile curled his lips. “No,” he said, his breath caressing my mouth. “I am a conqueror.”

Then Adrian kissed me, lifting me off my feet as he guided my legs around his waist. I twined my fingers in his hair and pried myself free to look into his strange, hungry eyes.

“I want you to stop feeding from Safira,” I said. “Find another vassal.”

I expected him to argue, but he didn’t. His grip tightened on me, his erection pressing hard against me.

“I will do as you wish,” he said and then consumed me.





Eleven


We would arrive at the Red Palace today.

My thoughts were chaotic, and I was confused. I’d spent the last three nights on a journey to my new husband’s home, and I knew little more about him than when I’d left Lara. No one seemed to be willing to give up information—not about themselves or him. Even asking about their powers seemed to be a topic that was off-limits. These people did not want to have weaknesses.

Despite dreading my arrival at my new home, I was eager to put distance between myself and Adrian. I should be encouraging his betrayal so that I would feel justified in running. Instead, I’d demanded he find another vassal for my sake. I was too invested, which I attributed to the fact that we had been together nonstop since our encounter in the woods. At the palace, Adrian would need to attend to his own agenda while I could consider my future, process the betrayal of my people, and decide how I was supposed to rule a kingdom of monsters—or destroy it.

“You are quiet today,” Sorin said, coming up alongside me.

I stood just outside my tent, close enough to what remained of the fire to stay warm. The evening was colder than all the rest, and I was not looking forward to riding in this chill.

“Well, I am about to enter a den of wolves,” I said.

“We’re not that bad.”

I glared.

“Okay, maybe we are, but it isn’t anything you cannot handle.”

“What do you know about what I can handle?” I asked.

Sorin gave a breathy laugh, his dimples deepened. “I have only needed to spend a few days with you to know you will survive our court.”

I hoped he was right.

I went in search of Adrian and found him beside Shadow. He held the reins of a new horse; this one was white. I hesitated as I approached, wondering why there was suddenly another horse available for me to ride.

“This is Snow,” Adrian said. “I thought you might like to ride into Cel Ceredi upon her.”

Cel Ceredi was like High City in Lara—it was the town that had formed around the palace.

I took Snow’s reins. “Who did she belong to?” I asked.

Adrian stared, and I could tell he did not want to answer my question.

“Her rider was a mortal,” he finally said. “Who died last night.”

I paled, and a number of possibilities ran through my head—like they had been drained of too much blood—but Adrian was quick to shut those thoughts down.

“She wandered away from camp and was attacked by a wight,” Adrian said.

“A wight?”

It was a creature I had not heard of before, but I was certain there were several monsters I had yet to encounter, especially in Revekka.

“It is a creature born of death. They are attracted to life—to the beat of your heart.”