Page 72 of Blood On His Lips

“None of that matters at this juncture—my apologies.” I clasped my hands in front of me, looking down. I needed a break from his stare. “Doubtless our personal issues will be a long time in resolving, but for now what matters is that you cease this attack against the people of your own city. Whatever disagreements are between us should not be played out on so public a stage. You don’t destroy innocents to prove a point, to bring me to heel, or whatever it is you’re trying to do. Everenne cannot be our game board.”

His lips thinned. “You still don’t understand. Power means that the cityisyour ground, and the citizens pieces to move or discard at your leisure.”

“Perhaps that’s what power means to you. That’s not what it means to me. I’ll never use other people to score points against you.”

“Not to score points. To punish. To teach you the consequences of your actions.”

Remaining calm was becoming so,sodifficult. I grabbed my cloak of calm and wrapped the tattered remnants around me. I was going to have to come up with a less fragile mental construct to endure even a conversation with Renaud. “Move against me, punish me—but leave others out of it.”

Suddenly he was in front of me, having moved so quickly that there was no time to invoke my Skill. His hands were on my face, holding me steady as his lips descended in a hard, swift kiss, forcing my mouth open, the acid swirl of desire, possession, anger, and frustration infiltrating the bond.

He pulled away, eyes cold, hands releasing me. “But how will you learn if there are no consequences for failure? You are lazy, Aerinne. Any accomplishment of note that you have achieved was because someone forced your hand.”

Irritation kept me silent for long enough to throttle my response, and also cleared my mind of the rising haze of lust I was always vulnerable to when he touched me—no, when he just looked at me with a certain light in his eyes. Raniel had never shown me this sociopathic side of himself. Darkan had been a mentor, a protector. Renaud was a little batshit, but he’d also made efforts to court me. He’d restrained himself.

This male, this amalgamation of all three, was pure Old One. Trying to manipulate him to stall for time suddenly seemed foolish. But I had to keep trying. I had to step into his web and focus all of that insanity on me.

“Come with me,” I said, and held out a hand. I didn't bother to conceal the slight tremble. “If it's submission you want, then you have it. I will learn what you wish to teach.” Iwasn’t lazy—I just wasn’t ambitious in the way he would prefer.

He stared at me, eyes shrewd. “How carefully you speak to avoid a lie. But you don’t believe the spirit of what you say. You are not truly mine, Aerinne.”

My forced calm nearly shattered. If offering myself to him on a silver platter wasn't diverting his attention, I didn't know what else to bargain with.

“Then what do youwant?”

“I want you wed to my side, to my purpose, with no doubt, no fissure of will. But that isn’t even possible until you learn the truth of your own nature.” His eyes flashed. “Until you understand what it is to be one of us. You still thinkI’mthe enemy.” Renaud laughed.

Then he disappeared.

I wasted no time, turning and sprinting the mile back to Numair and Juliette, skidding to a halt as they emerged from their hiding places.

“The parlay was unsuccessful,” I said. I squinted up at the sky, trying to gauge the position of the moon. “We need to gather any warriors who remain in the city. I don’t know what his next move is going to be, but he’s going to up the ante.”

I knew Raniel. I understood his methods. He believed in learning the hard way, though pain and experience, and if he thought I was unfocused or lazy with a lesson, then he’d force me to learn. And he didn’t pull his punches.

“What does that bastardwant?” Juliette asked, the frustration in her voice echoing my own.

“I believe he wants me to learn to think like him.”

They stared at me. “Like a homicidal, psychotic Old One?”

“He doesn’t believe anything is wrong with him. He thinks there’s something wrong with us—me. He thinks playing this game will prepare me for. . .”

“For what?” Numair asked.

“I don’t know.”

But I feared I was beginning to understand the answer. It was the only answer that made his madness even begin to make sense.

ChapterTwenty-Two

Numair signaleda scout since the rooftop relay was back in place, and the Faronne warriors still in the city gathered at a safehouse along with our allies who’d also remained behind.

The basement room was crowded with warriors from every House, as well as Lord Wyvenne. The other High Lords remained at large, lending their strength to guard evacuees. As I listened to Manuelle report, I felt a little relief. I’d known there’d been an evacuation plan in place for centuries for just this scenario, since an Old One on rampage was akin to a natural disaster. Execution of that plan had commenced smoothly all things considered.

What did Renaud want? On the surface, he wanted me to play the game, to oppose him. To punish me for my defiance. But Raniel, and Darkan to some extent, wanted me to learn.

I want you to break. I want you to reform into something that will survive.

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