Page 122 of The Dawn of the Cursed Queen

“At times.” He smiled at me as I took a sip.

Blood a little sweeter than I liked hit my tongue, but I swallowed. My stomach cooled, no longer yelling at me, and while it would soothe my hunger for a little while, I craved something else. I didn’t tell him how much I actually preferred drinking from the vein. I savored the feel of my fangs piercing skin and the body heat of another living being as I fed. A part of me was afraid he would learn one secret too many about me and look at me differently. That would destroy me. I licked my lips and crossed my legs, setting the cup in my lap.

“Good?” he asked, reaching out and tucking back a lock of hair that had fallen across my face.

“It will do. What is it anyway?” I asked.

“There is no translation for it in your world, but think of it as a stag from there.”

“You gave me animal blood?”

He dropped his hand, leaning slightly back as he regarded me. “Yes, I thought it peculiar for me to ask a stranger to borrow some.”

That made me giggle as I took another sip. “Fair point. I thought you were just insanely jealous and preferred I tasted no one else.”

He shook his head. “Gods don’t get jealous. We can have anyone we wish.”

“Oh.” I leaned over and placed the cup on the end table before throwing back the blankets and scooting to the edge of the bed. “Well, in that case, I’m done with animal blood. I’m going to go see if someone is drunk enough to forget if I get a nighttime snack.”

My feet barely touched the floor before his arms were around me. He tossed me onto the small bed, and I laughed as he pinned my hands above my head.

“Be careful. I’m mortally wounded,” I said.

Samkiel released my hands and shifted his weight off me to lean on one elbow. His big hand skimmed the edge of my tank before pulling it up, exposing my abdomen.

“No, I checked. I made sure . . .” His words died when he saw nothing but toned skin. He glared at me. “You’re not funny.”

I grinned and held my thumb and forefinger just a little apart as he lowered my shirt. “I’m a little funny.”

“Minute, if even.” His fingers slipped just under my top, rubbing at the sensitive skin of my belly. “What happened at the prison?”

My mind flashed to Vincent and the rocky mountainside, watching his body fall to the water rushing below. I’d waited for that damn blue light to shoot across the sky, but it never came. I forced a smile as he regarded me.

“It’s been forever since I’ve lain on a bed that was actually soft. I missed it,” I said, opening my legs and sliding my knee along his side. “Do you want to use it?”

His hand wrapped around my thigh and pressed it flat against the bed. “I understand how weaker men would immediately fall for your wicked ways, but don’t try to distract me with sex. Especially when I’m trying to have a conversation with you.”

My lips pursed. He was so different from anyone I’d ever been with, and that was another reason I wanted to skip this conversation. I slipped out from beneath his touch and sat up. I felt the bed shift as I stood.

“Dianna.” His hand reached out, stopping me.

“I want to take a bath,” I said.

His thumb ran across my wrist as he turned me to him. “You killed Vincent. That’s what you said before you passed out from blood loss.”

I didn’t respond, keeping my eyes focused on his feet. I wished the world would open up and swallow me whole.

“Do you feel bad?” he asked.

My head whipped up. My gaze met his, and I knew he saw not an ounce of remorse in my eyes. “No, and that’s the problem. I feel nothing but relief about it. And I don’t want to talk about it with you because regardless of what he did, he was your friend, and you loved him, and I killed him.”

Samkiel nodded, his thumb drawing circles across my wrist. “Vincent is a complicated subject for me. I remember the man who twitched at loud sounds or when someone moved too fast. I remember the wounded version of him. The one I wanted to help and protect. I want to believe he was manipulated. A part of me screams it is far more than it seems. I had lived with all of them for hundreds of years. I saw how he was with the others, and I knew him. Or I thought I did. Then he turned The Hand into something I cannot comprehend. He hurt them. He hurt you and tried to kill you. So it’s complicated. I want to feel hurt that he is gone and feel sad, but I don’t. I’m more upset you are hurt, more upset I haven’t found the rest of my family, and more upset I couldn’t do more to help.”

My chest tightened at his words. I stepped between his open legs and wrapped my arms around his head. He rested his cheek against my breasts and hugged me close, holding me as I held him. “I’m sorry.”

He said nothing.

“Not for killing him,” I added. “But for what you have lost.”

---