Page 38 of The Blood Crown

The king chuckled as the guards began to haul Ven from the room.

"I am entitled to a moment alone with my claimed." Ven shoved out of their grasp. "As theold traditionsdictate," he bit out.

His father gave a nod, a glimmer of indulgence in his flat, red eyes.

The crowd parted for him like flesh under a blade as Ven stalked toward her, primal and dominating. Something about this tradition, this ancient ritual, speaking to the beasts their kind had once been. The cold glint in his eye making her wonder what he would have done to them all had his father refused . . .

He stood before her, stretching out a blood-soaked hand.

And she took it.

Chapter 20

The tunnels were a blur as Ven led them through the dark passageways. Aurelia caught sight of the familiar surroundings, the dark chambers as Ven's blood-speckled face loomed above hers.

Caging her against the wall, his eyes were dark as a raging sea, breath ragged as he uttered, “I never should have—” He slowly shook his head, the fire behind his eyes banking to embers as they focused on her. “But the thought of another male’s hands on you . . .”

There is no future for us.

The words still rang clearly in her mind as she replied flatly, “You presume they’d live long enough to touch me.” She placed a palm on his heaving chest, and he stumbled back as if she’d struck him.

As soon as the other males stepped forward to challenge him, she’d already made the decision. She would never be someone’s prize again—no matter the cost.

He took another step toward her, slow and halting. As if she might flinch from him. As if she might fear him. But even withwhat she’d just witnessed, that could never be possible. The kind of power he’d unleashed . . . terrifying, yes. But beautiful, too.

And a part of her hated that she still felt that, because whatever he felt in turn—whatever had driven him to claim her in this place, whether it was a desire to protect her as a member of his court, or simply male ego—it didn’t matter. He didn’t feel the same.

Heavy silence fell between them as the door shut.

My claimed.

Ven turned to face her, raking fingers through the strands of his dark hair, as if trying to fight for control after what he’d just done.

Was it fear that flashed across the sharp planes of his face? Uncertainty that darkened his expression? From the moment that he’d claimed her until now had been such a rush that she was still trying to make sense of it.

Ven took a step closer, palms raised as his eyes darted to her face, then back to his hands—still stained with blood. Clenching them into fists, he dropped them at his sides once more.

He’d shed blood to claim her—to keep her safe. He’d killed for her.

“What happens now?” she uttered. She knew little of their customs, less of what any of this meant.

“Normally . . . a ceremony would be performed. A blood oath sworn in front of witnesses.” His eyes dropped to his fists as he unclenched them, knuckles cracking as he flexed his bloodied palms. "But it only needs to be an exchanging of blood—enough to shift our scents," he uttered, something like remorse darkening his words.

He’d already offered her his blood more times than she could count, and she’d offered hers as well. Heat rose to her cheeks at the distant memory of that night in his darkened chambers when they'd returned from Eisenea.

“It does not need to mean anything beyond these walls.” The words were uttered like an apology. As if it were a punishment to be attached to him.

“And what does it mean here? Now?” She tried to control the rapid rise and fall of her chest, but her heart was pounding out of her ribs waiting for him to say it. She was tired of guessing. Tired of wanting to know what was going on in that thick skull of his.

“It means that I am yours, and you are mine,” he said softly, reverently.

Mine.

A shaky exhale escaped her parted lips at the raw emotion in his voice. It was rare that she observed anything other than his tightly coiled control. After the death she had witnessed in that cavern, she understood why. Because when he chose to release his full power—histruepower—it was devastating. But right now, he seemed so utterly . . . exposed.

Following his gaze as it dropped to his hands, both of them regained some small amount of clarity at the scarlet that still stained them. It was enough to move her feet from where they were rooted into the floor.

Crossing the room to the bathing chamber, she found a basin and filled it with steaming water while searching the shelves for a clean cloth. When she emerged, Ven was exactly where she'd left him, staring down at his bloodied hands.

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