Page 99 of The Veil of Blood and Magic

Chapter 26

Livana

It hurts to walk, but as the days pass, I do my best to drag myself from the bed to the bathing chamber and back again. The damned silver bracelets still cling to my skin, and I’m almost numb to their effect now. I've lost count of how long it’s been since the prince spoke to me that first night, but from the cracks in my lips and the aches in my joints and muscles, I know I'm near starvation.

Just like he promised, the prick.

I shouldn’t have flown off at the mouth, but damn me, it’s who Iam.

Collector core come and check on me once in the morning and once in the evening, only bringing me water and ensuring I haven't thrown myself from the balcony.

The thoughthascrossed my mind. More than once. Especially as the nights grow long and my stomach feels like it's gnawing itself from the inside out. My fangs ache but are unable to distend at this point, and I live in a constant state of fog, never knowing what’s real and what isn't.

There's only one thing that keeps me from flinging myself to my death, and that’s the thought of my Linked and my Matched.

Of getting vengeance.

The prince told me my Linked would be okay if I behaved, yet one slip of the tongue and he hasn’t come back? Does he give up that easily?

Maybe he's testing me.

Maybe he's watching me and I don't know.

Maybe he's curious how long a succubus can go without feeding.

I stumble around my room, doing my best to distract myself with the books that line the shelves. I'm not sure which Collected quarters these were before they threw me in here, but we have similar reading tastes.

There are books in here I'm sure the Collector doesn't even know about—historical tomes containing cultural studies on the Four Houses of Old.

I thought the Collector burned all historical texts highlighting the old world before The Great Purge, but maybe that’s only for commoners. Maybe people in his inner circle have the privilege of reading our continent's histories without fear of being beheaded in the town square.

I grab a tome now, reaching up for it on one of the higher shelves, my fingers just grazing the spine as I pull it down and sink into the chair next to the shelves. I've barely cracked it open when my heartbeat stutters.

I sit ramrod straight, like the action will force my heart to take the correct path.

It doesn't.

The book slips through my fingers, numbness spreading from my fingertips outward until I can't feel my hands.

Shit.

I suck in a deep breath, an ache starting at the top of my head and radiating down my neck. My breathing grows shallow as my heart gallops at an unsustainable speed.

My chest grows tight and my stomach turns as the backs of my jaws tingle, my bodybeggingme for sustenance. Begging for desire and blood and, most of all, my medication.

The bastards took my satchel and have ignored my pleas for return of just the meds alone.

My entire body shakes as I struggle to take a full breath. The edges of my vision start to blur, and I slip off my chair, slumping against the floor. I try to stand, try tomove, but I can't.

This is it. My heart has finally decided it’s done with me.

I roll to my back, doing my best to keep my eyes open as I stare at the ceiling high above me. One heavy hand drops to my hip, covering it protectively. I can't believe I'm going to die here, making everything I've ever done before this pointless. An utter fucking failure.

My heart stutters again, tripping over itself before reclaiming its sprint.

My breaths are only wisps of air now, the numbness now traveling lower past my hips and down my thighs.

I'm so cold. So very cold?—

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