Page 22 of A Kiss of Deception

She nods, her mind clearly already racing with plans. "I know just the thing. There's a potent sleeping draught I can get my hands on. They'll be out cold before they know what hit them."

"Clever girl," I praise, watching her preen under my approval. "And after? What becomes of us?"

Meetha's gaze meets mine, fierce and unyielding. "We take what's ours. Starting with that ring, and ending with all of Protheka at our feet."

I pull her in for a searing kiss, reveling in her passion, her darkness. "I knew there was a reason I chose you, my queen."

12

MEETHA

The sheets cling to my sweat-slicked skin as I roll onto my side, facing Milkor. His silver eyes gleam in the dim candlelight, otherworldly and alluring. My heart still races from our passionate encounter, but curiosity burns even hotter within me.

I study Milkor's elven features in the candlelight, noticing a new vulnerability. I wonder if it's the lingering effects of our intimacy or the burden of his hidden truths. I sense a chance - a crack in his armor.

"Tell me about the curse," I whisper, trailing my fingers along his ashen chest. "How did you end up trapped in this form?"

Milkor's jaw clenches, surprise and wariness flashing in his eyes. For a moment, I think he'll refuse, retreating behind his walls of sarcasm and deflection. But then he sighs, a sound of resignation and... relief?

"It's not a pleasant tale," he warns, his voice rougher than usual.

I hold his gaze, silently urging him to continue. He searches my face, as if looking for something - judgment, perhaps, or fear. Finding neither, he seems to come to a decision.

"I suppose you deserve to know," he mutters, more to himself than to me. "If you're foolish enough to align yourself with me, you should understand what you're getting into."

"I can handle it," I assure him. "Please?"

Milkor's eyes darken, a storm brewing in their silver depths. He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling beneath my fingertips.

"I was hunting," he says, his voice low and rough. "A human woman caught my attention. She smelled... different. Enticing."

A shiver runs down my spine, but I don't pull away. "What happened?"

"I followed her. She was on her way to work, oblivious to my presence." His lips curl into a predatory smile. "When she turned down an empty alley, I struck."

My breath catches in my throat. I should be horrified, but something in his voice, in the way his muscles tense beneath my touch, sends a thrill through me.

"Did she fight back?" I whisper.

Milkor chuckles darkly. "She tried. But she was no match for me. I tore into her flesh, savoring her screams, her terror."

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "And then?"

"I killed her," he says simply, no hint of remorse in his tone. "Her life force was exquisite. I felt no guilt, no shame. It's my nature, after all."

My mind reels. I should be horrified by Milkor's cold admission of murder. Instead, I feel a twisted fascination. Is it his unapologetic rawness, or something darker within me responding to his primal nature?

I swallow hard, trying to reconcile the conflicting emotions swirling inside me - attraction, fear, and a disturbing hint of excitement.

His words should repulse me, but instead, I find myself pressing closer, drawn to the darkness within him. "What went wrong?"

"A purna appeared," Milkor growls, anger flashing in his eyes.

"A purna?" I gasp, my eyes widening. "I've only heard stories about them. They're supposed to be myth."

Milkor's lips twist into a bitter smile. "Oh, they're real. And far more powerful than I'd imagined."

"What exactly are purna?" I ask, curiosity overriding my fear. "I've only heard whispers, old tales told to scare children."

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