Page 104 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

I shudder. “It has lingered all night.” The crackling flames of the pyres have played as background music.

“It can’t be anything good. And that language they speak—I have never heard it before. Have you?”

I shake my head.

“Perhaps it is a Seacadorian dialect—”

“That is not any dialect of Seacadore. We have enough of them living in our city that I would know.”

“In any case, I prefer our odds up here rather than down there. I think our best plan is to hang until we come up with a better plan.” His gaze drifts over my face, stalling on my mouth.

“Anytime you’d like to move …”

He rolls onto his back, fitting beside me. “Better?”

“Not much.”

He shuts his eyes.

“What are you doing? Sleeping?”

“May as well. Nothing else to do.” He pauses. “Unless you’d like to go back to humping my leg. Our spectators seemed entertained.”

“More like horrified on my behalf.”

“Suit yourself, but I will be well rested.”

My stomach chooses that moment to growl.

“What Princess Annika would do for one of those dreadful sea biscuits now, I imagine,” Tyree muses. “Here, will this help?” He stretches the collar of his tunic to expose the hard lines of his collarbones and the pad of muscle peeking beneath. “You’re welcome to it.” A playful grin touches his lips as he tips his head to the side, his eyes still closed.

Such a thick, columnar neck for a treacherous villain. It’s one of my favorite parts of a male, and it has nothing to do with the pulsing vein that runs through it. Though, that always helped …

Zander chastised me for indulging in blood daily rather than building up a tolerance, and I laughed at him. I’m a royal princess. Why would I deprive myself of such a need, as well as a pleasure?

Since the poison took hold, I saw merit in his scolding. But now, it no longer matters.

It’s not the first time Tyree has taunted me like this, but it’s the boldest. If my thirst for blood hadn’t mysteriously vanished, if I truly were suffering right now, this proximity—an attractive male neck, offered—would be torture after this many days, poison or not.

My spite flares, coaxing me to lean in and inhale deeply. “Maybe the siren healed you of more than your leg wound,” I whisper. “What if that poison is no longer there?”

Tyree’s body stiffens. “That is not something you should risk finding out, Annika.”

“Why not? You wanted me dead, anyway.” I flatten my tongue and slide it across his jugular, tasting the salt on his skin.

His breath hitches, and his heart rate leaps. It’s not the speedy pulse of fear, and it’s certainly not hatred. Though, he can still hate me while wanting to fuck me, I suppose. But he knows what it feels like to be fed upon—he admitted as much. This Jada who wounded his heart for his blood, I’m sure she taught him how intimate the act could be, and I’m sure he thoroughly enjoyed it.

“If I am to die soon, anyway …” I repeat the tongue drag, this time letting my teeth scrape along with it.

Tyree seizes my chin within his grasp, pulling my face far enough away to check for fangs. A shallow breath skates across my cheek. “You are teasing me.”

The simple but dominating move stirs a need deep in my belly. I’ve always preferred a male with a little fight in him—a rare treasure to find when you’re a princess in line for the throne, bedding mortals and foolish elven with lofty ambitions. “As you are me, except your version is far crueler.”

Long lashes flutter as he meets my gaze, showing me odd sincerity. “You are right. I am sorry.”

Any response I could dig out from my gaping mouth is cut off as heavy footfalls approach. I recognize the sound of armor. We twist in our net sack to see a horde of soldiers marching forward.

“Let me do the talking,” Tyree whispers, studying them intently.

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