Blood Heir (Blood Heir Trilogy, #1)(78)

Whatever remorse she might have felt burned away with her rising anger, stoked by his heated accusations. “Kerlan’s men killed May and exploited Affinites for a living,” she growled. “I gave them what they deserved.”

Ramson slashed a hand through the air. “Yes, and in doing so, you nearly single-handedly gave us away. That doorman was watching us as we entered; I wouldn’t be surprised if he alerted Kerlan’s security of us. I bargained for a peaceful entry to this ball and you ruined it. You focused on the battle and lost sight of the war.”



They stood so close that she could grab him by the lapels and shake him until his teeth rattled. She thought back to Shama?ra’s dacha, the fire burning low, the smell of smoke and incense and hope hanging between them. She’d thought there was something in him worth redeeming.

Ana pitched her voice low and cast her words to cut. “Do not speak of May as though she were a sacrifice to be made, in these battles and wars you seem to perceive as a game.”

Ramson’s eyes narrowed. “Ana, be quiet—”

“Must be so easy for you to say”—she plunged on, anger and tears threatening to choke her as they did whenever she thought of May—“having never loved anybody or anything besides yourself.”

In one swift step, Ramson closed the gap between them. Instinctively, Ana shrank back, her head bumping against the glass behind her as Ramson leaned over her and braced a hand on the door behind her. He reached out with the other hand, and in that moment she had a wild premonition that he would either hurt her or kiss her—but all he did was press a finger to her lips.

“Please, shut up,” he whispered, and something about the urgency of his tone startled her into silence. He was so close that she could see the cuts and scratches on his chin, the slight bend to his nose, the sweep of his lashes over his hazel eyes, wide as he looked at her right now. He leaned in. His whisper was lighter than a breath by her ear. “We’re being watched.”



She looked past him. Through the blur of her tears, the alcove swam into view, barely wide enough for her to stretch her arms out on either side. She was suddenly aware of the silence beyond the curtains, of the music and hubbub that seemed a world away. Of how their voices must have carried to anyone listening outside.

Ramson’s hand shifted to her shoulder, his gaze locked on her as though she were something wild that could become unhinged at any moment. Ana swallowed. The deluge of her emotions vanished as quickly as it had come, tempered by the chill of fear and the need to act.

Holding his gaze, she reached out with her Affinity. It was like lighting a torch; she saw with her power the blood, hot and bright in Ramson’s body before her, pulsing quickly from the strong beat of his heart. Ana reached beyond that. The second floor of Kerlan’s banquet hall unfurled under the sweep of her Affinity, a darkness devoid of blood, until—

There.

A single figure stood by the staircase mere steps from their alcove, still as a stone.

Fear bloomed cold against her chest.

Ramson watched her expression, as though he already knew exactly what she was doing. “Do you sense someone?” His lips barely moved.

Ana nodded.

“Can you tell me anything else about them? What they’re wearing, or what they look like?”

As though in response to his question and to her Affinity, she sensed something reaching out to her—an icy, iron force that clamped against her Affinity, blotting it out like dousing a torch.



The feeling was all too familiar, and her knees almost buckled as she thought of the last time she’d felt it. “A yaeger,” she whispered.

Ramson nodded almost imperceptibly. “Just don’t move. Couples come up here for…privacy all the time. Let him think that.”

She realized that she was gripping him tightly, one hand clutching at his shoulder and the other wrapped around his back. Ramson had placed a hand on her waist, his other still warm against the skin of her shoulder. He smelled of fresh kologne, clean with just a hint of spice and mystery.

He leaned over her, his head resting against the cool glass door that led outside. “Trust me,” he murmured, his breath grazing her neck. “And tell me if he moves.”

Trust me.

Her heart was threatening to beat out of her chest from terror at being caught, and some other strange thrill that she couldn’t even begin to understand. The fabric of their outfits rustled, and in the dim light that seeped beneath the curtains into their small space, they were a tangle of chiffon and limbs and soft, cautious breaths.

Ramson sighed, the corded muscles in his neck shifting slightly. His head was bowed, his breath warming the crook between her neck and her bare shoulders. Any closer, and…

Something shifted in the landscape of her Affinity. Ana perked up.

The person outside was gone.



She sensed the yaeger making his way down the stairs, his blood growing dim until it blended into the chaos of the banquet hall. “He left,” she murmured.

Ana felt Ramson loose a breath against her, his hand slipping from her shoulder, the calluses scraping against her bare skin as he squeezed her arm and stood back. A lock of hair had become undone and fell in front of his eyes; for some reason, she wanted to reach out and brush it away.

His gaze snapped to her. Ana stared back, shame curdling her stomach at her earlier outburst. The anger seemed to have dissipated from Ramson, too; he only looked at her, puzzled, lips half-parted as though he was simultaneously wanting to say something and waiting for her to say something.