Page 83 of Shadow's Heart

Mina had heard others in the castle whisper that two or three immortals used to arrive every night. None had made it here over the entire last week, and that absence seemed to be affecting the sorceress and all the beings here.

Any laughter in the halls felt forced, the sounds of pleasure rote. Even as morale was abysmal, everyone pretended otherwise.

Uneasy, she lost herself in the sand eddying overhead. In time, she drifted to sleep once more, hoping to dream about Adham showing her a moonlit desert.

Instead, nightmares arose of leaping atop him, wrestling to get to his jugular. Her fangs dripped, sharper than they’d ever been. She snapped them greedily.

He yelled, “Kosmina!” trying to startle her out of her bloodlust. “Kosmina!”

When she opened her eyes again, she was atop Silt, her nightmare a reality.

Thirty-Eight

“Kosmina, wake up!” Silt gripped her shoulders, holding her at bay. “Mina!”

“Adham?” Her reddened gaze slowly grew focused. Then she twisted away from him, scrambling across the bed. “Oh, gods, what did I do?”

“Nothing. It’s fine. We’re fine.” He’d discounted her worries when she’d told him that vampires grew stronger in bloodlust; she’d just stunned him with her strength. If he hadn’t awakened when he did . . .

She sat against the headboard, curling her knees to her chest, her eyes welling with tears. Kosmina Daciano was such a courageous female, yet she still reminded him of a fragile desert rose. “The thought of harming you is like a blade to the chest.” She’d spared no worry for herself. Only for him. “We can’t go on like this.”

Whenever she’d expressed doubts, he’d given her the same assurances, the same lies:You just need more blood . . . the weapon might be ready tomorrow. . . .Gazing at her like this, he admitted, “The benefit of my blood seems to be wearing off.” The plague was resurging, and Enti would soon exile Kosmina. She would have to. “Princess, you’re succumbing.”

“You would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” she snapped, then looked aghast. “I’m so sorry. I’m not like this. Why would I ever try to hurt you? You who mean so much to me?”

Guilt was worse than a thousand years of withdrawal, made him just as nauseated.

“The plague is already changing me. I used to be shy. No longer. Logic once ruled me. Now emotions do. It’s a very uncomfortable situation to be in. Which you must understand very well since you’re living in a den of opium.”

Every minute was a struggle. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with her . . .

“I should have known this would happen,” she muttered. “My nightmares of biting you keep returning because they’re a warning. It’s time I heed it.”

“And what if you did bite me? Maybe that’s exactly what should happen. We’ve both dreamed of your taking blood from me. Could be for a reason.” Would it buy her more time?For what? Who is coming to save the day?

“Are you ready for me to know everything about you?”

He swallowed, and she clocked the movement. Just before her attack, he’d dreamed that she shared his memories and became one with him—but dreams differed from reality. He was the last person who needed to offer up his past. Still . . . “It’s what we must do.”

“And what if it backfires? Your memories could send me over the edge. I might attack you again.”

“I won’t let that happen,” he assured her. “Just think about it, all right?” Because no other scenarios existed for her here.

“I’ll give Enti another day or two. In the meantime, you can’t sleep around me anymore.”

Did Kosmina have that kind of time? He almost came clean about everything then, but she looked so tired. “Very well.” Hetook her in his arms, and they lay back down. “We’ll revisit this tomorrow,” he said, feeling as if his tongue were barbed.

“Hmm. Distract me, will you? Talk to me.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

She traced one of his tattoos. Though she didn’t understand their dark meaning, they’d seized her attention. With her little licks outlining each, she’d learned them with her mouth, making him twist in a mix of bliss and unease. The idea had struck him again that nothing was pure for him, all was sullied. Delight and disquiet forever battled inside him, just as they had when he’d smoked.

She murmured, “Tell me about these.”

“Maybe in the future. But not now.” He hadn’t uttered the wordInferiin centuries.

“In the future, he says.” A soft laugh.

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