Queen of Myth and Monsters (Adrian X Isolde, #2)(77)

“Why?” I asked, my mouth quivering.

“Because he has to die,” Sorin said. “Adrian will destroy us, Isolde. None of us can fight him. You have to understand. You once understood.”

I shook my head.

“The Book of Dis,” he continued. “You wrote those spells for him.”

“How do you know that?” I whispered.

Ravena had just told me.

“I know a lot more than you think.”

“You are a traitor,” I said. “You are the traitor. You told Ravena about the bloodletting.”

Sorin’s brows lowered. “I am many things,” he said. “A traitor among them, but I did not tell Ravena anything.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said.

“I am not choosing one side over the other.”

“Then you are weak,” I said, and he winced, closing his eyes for a second. When he opened them again and gazed upon me, his treason only hurt worse because I did not see the hate I wanted to see. I saw regret and sorrow and deep, deep sadness.

“Adrian is becoming more and more a monster every day,” he said. “Tell me you have not seen the signs. The flash of white in his eyes, the pain in his head. It is Dis taking over. It is Dis speaking to him.”

“How do you know it is Dis?” I whispered, my mouth quivering. I did not know if it was from my anguish or shock.

“Isolde,” Sorin said, shaking his head.

“Don’t,” I said between bloody teeth. “Do not say my name.”

Sorin nodded and then spoke. “He’ll hurt you one day, and then you will understand.”

“He would never,” I said with such conviction in my voice. I began to cry.

“I really do love you,” Sorin said. “I wish you could remember…this is for the greater good.”

Those words.

My father had used them.

“You wanted me to kill myself?” I asked, affronted. “For whom? For a kingdom of people who turned their backs on me for my sacrifice?”

“It is for the greater good!” he said.

“Get out,” I said.

“Iso—”

“I said get out!” I yelled, blood flying from my mouth. “Get out!”

Tears streamed down Sorin’s face, but he rose to his feet, took up his sword, and fled.

At some point, I must have passed out because I was roused by Adrian’s rage-filled scream. I opened my eyes and stared up at him as he took me into his arms.

“Adrian.” I whispered his name, lifting my blood-stained hand to his face.

“What happened? Where is Sorin?” he asked.

“Sorin did this,” I said. “Sorin is a traitor.”

“No.” I heard another voice I recognized as Daroc’s, but I could not turn my head to look at him.

My eyes were heavy, and my hand fell from Adrian’s face, leaving a streak of blood. Adrian reached for it, pressing my palm to his cheek again.

“I will heal you.”

“Adrian,” I whispered, smiling at him. “Not even you can heal this.”

Adrian’s venom was powerful, but it had limits as we’d had learned with the aufhocker bite.

“Unless… You must change me,” I said.

I recognized there were consequences, but none came close to dying.

Adrian’s eyes passed over my face, as if he were assessing just how much I wanted this. “You are certain?”

“It is either that or die,” I said. “I no longer wish to be a sparrow.”

There was no hesitation after that.

He positioned me so that my head rested on his shoulder, and he bit into my neck. At first, it felt normal, and then he sank his teeth in deeper, and it felt as though he had injected fire into my veins. But I did not scream; I only held onto him as tightly as I could.

“Drink, Isolde,” Adrian said.

I was only half-aware when he placed something against my lips and a metallic taste filled my mouth. It was blood, different from my own. Stronger, somehow.

I did not know if I managed to drink, but there came a point when I felt as though I were floating, rising into a darkness pierced with stars.





Twenty-Three





Isolde

My throat was burning, and I groaned as I opened my eyes.

“Up,” Adrian said gently, his hands on my shoulders, but any movement made my head spin. I buried my face in the soft blankets beneath me, squeezing my eyes shut.

“I can’t,” I said, my voice hoarse, and I winced at the pain.

“You must drink,” Adrian said, and I moaned as I sat up, head swimming.

I felt horrible, and black spots marred my vision.

Adrian moved me. Bringing my legs on either side of his body, he pulled me against him and cradled my head in the hollow of his neck.

“Drink,” he said.

And strangely, I needed no more encouragement than that. I bit into his skin.

It was easier than I imagined, but that was because of the fangs that had grown in behind my teeth.

“Fuck,” Adrian moaned, one of his hands tightening in my hair. “Yes, my sweet. Suck harder.”

As his blood filled my mouth and throat, the burning lessened, and my head cleared. I became aware of other things—how our naked bodies fit together, how Adrian’s full cock felt between my legs, and how aroused I was. I reached for him while I took long pulls of his blood, running my thumb over a thick bead of come, smearing it over his crown.