Page 36 of The Blood Crown

The male's stare went blank for a moment, seeming to fight the hold of her command as he looked through her. She moved to slip out of his hand, and the daze shattered, clarity returning to his eyes.

His hand clamped around her again as he shook the order off, gaze narrowed.

“Vorare,” he uttered in disbelief, a grin spreading across his face that made bile rise in her throat.

She tried to meet his eyes again, another command on her lips as he snatched a fistful of hair, her head snapping back as he drug her through the tunnels.

She fought and raged, her dress tearing as he hauled her back into that room of monsters—throwing her before the king. Dread rose up in her chest, heart pounding in her throat at what he might tell him . . .

“Avaric,” the king called from the head table, white brows creasing at the interruption.

Ven's face paled, rage flaring in his eyes as they darted from the male’s bloodied nose to the ripped sleeve of her dress.

Panic clenched a cold fist around her. If the king realized that she possessed the same gift as Ven . . .

“Your Majesty,” the male gave a shallow bow, his alabaster skin flushed. “You said I was owed a favor for my loyalty—" he called out flatly, pointing to where she stood. "I would ask for her.”

Ringing droned between her ears. The feeling of plummeting off a cliff only to discover a far more gruesome fate awaited you.

The king tapped his fingers against the wide arm of his throne, considering. “You wish for the half-breed?”

The male gave a single nod.

No—

The king steepled long white fingers beneath his chin, eyes sliding to Ven.

No, no, no . ..

But before he could grant his permission, Ven stood, his face flooded in torchlight.

“I claim her.” His deep voice rumbled through the mountain, making the room fall silent.

Even the Nostari still feeding on their victims raised their bloody faces to watch as Ven cut through the crowd.

Whatever was happening seemed to change the very air around them.

Ven came to stand beside her, forcing the other male to take a step back.

The king looked at him with wry amusement. “I trust you remember the laws ofourkind? We still hold to the old traditions here, and even a Blood Prince is not exempt from the outcome of a challenge.”

Ven never took his eyes from her as he answered, “I do.”

“Very well,” the king said, motioning with a hand. “Whoever else would lay claim to this female—step forward.”

A few whispers rang out from the nobility, quickly hushed as two males emerged from the crowd to join the one who had drug her into the room. A guard stepped beside Ven, removing the cuffs that circled his wrists. He offered her a final glance before turning to face the court.

It wasn’t until that moment that she understood what was happening . . .

Ven was going to fight them. Fight for her.

“Until yield or death,” the king smiled grimly.

Ven prowled like a shadecat toward the center of the cavern, rolling out the thick muscles in his neck, power rippling off him as if it couldn’t wait to be unleashed.

Another handful of males joined, smirks on their faces, all of them hungry for a chance at killing the legendary warrior—the king’s son—without retaliation. More enticed by the thought of Ven’s death than any real desire to claim her. Even the king looked gluttonous for bloodshed as the corner of his mouth lifted in amusement from where he lounged, not in the least concerned that his only rightful heir was up against six other males.

Alaric stepped forward, an arrogant grin on his sharply angled face.

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