Page 14 of My Blood Is Yours

Her jaw drops before snapping shut, petite jaw clenching in anger. “I will not work for someone who treats his subjects cruelly.”

Forsythe’s pale cheeks redden, and it becomes imminently clear that the male has a hard time controlling the beast inside him. Before our eyes, he grows an inch or two in size as he triesto stifle the shift. The muscles of his lithe arms and legs swell until his clothing is stretched thin, his fists clench with barely restrained rage. To my surprise, the female staring indignantly up at him doesn’t cower.

In an instant, I’m halfway across the room, shackles biting into my flesh, the metal groaning in protest. “Lay a hand on her, and so help meAkash,I will tear your head from your body.”

Forsythe’s fear scent poisons the air as he takes in the sight of my seven-and-a-half-foot-tall form: towering horns, wings flared wide, tail thrashing angrily behind me, muscles bulging, and claws extended.

He steps back, drawing in a deep breath to compose himself as he hastily pulls out a cloth to dab at his forehead, eyes flicking away from me. “Break those chains free of that wall, and you risk the whole building collapsing on us.”

Mysoulboundis clearly not one for self-preservation. Her gaze remains glued to him. “He needs a bed. A proper one. Clean clothing. And access to a toilet and bath.”

Forsythe’s jaw clenches so hard I’m surprised he doesn’t spit out shards of teeth. “You know, I find it awfully alarming how concerned you seem to be for the daemon’s well-being. One might even think you’ve inherited your mother’s lunacy.”

My mate’s breath catches. Sadness and anger seep from her as her voice drops to a whisper.“How dare you.”

The doctor’s lips purse with distaste. “I will have Evandriel retrieve what he can to make the daemon’s quarters more livable, but allow me to make myself clear, Elowen. If you do not prove yourself invaluable in this cause, then you will be proving yourself expendable.A liability.Do you understand?”

My own fear scent permeates the air, right alongside my rage.

If this male hadn’t already put an exceedingly short expiration date on his own life, he certainly has nowand ensured it would be an unfathomably painful one.

Elowenturns toward my cell door, impatience radiating off of her. “Well, then, I better get started.”

Forsythe gives a huff, pulling out a set of keys before jamming one into the cell door. “Your first task is to bathe him, and while he’s still clean, I will need you to collect a tissue, semen, and blood sample. Evandriel will return shortly with your implements and further instruction.”

Evandriel’s expression is tight, but otherwise gives nothing away. Elowen’s heart rate leaps even as her jaws clench, turning to him. “Ensure the water is warm.”

ELOWEN

Bathe him.My heart begins a riotous beat in my chest. I hardly notice Forsythe shut the cell door behind me, locking me inside. My gaze lifts to the male before me—the one of my actual dreams.

Long black hair frames his preternaturally handsome face, even if it is…strange.Each angle of it is somehow both broad and sharp. Those two gilded lines streaking across his face glow, just as I’d suspected. Three more spill down his throat and branch out into a larger but simple geometric design that frames star-like points dotting his sternum and extending over the tops of his thickly muscled arms, the biceps of which are adorned in gold cuffs. I can’t help but notice more of those designs fall beyond the low-slung waist of his trousers.

I can feel his gaze passing over me like a heated touch as we take one another in—even though his eyes have no whites, and I shouldn’t be able to sense where he’s looking. They’re a solid dark grey, even darker than his smooth, hairless, dark grey skin. The same color as a thundercloud, ready to burst with rain and lightning. His full lips part slightly as he openly stares, revealing a hint of his lethal, bright-white fangs. His broad chest rising on elevated breaths. The wings at his back—also adorned in darkgolden lines—settle, closing against his back like the lowering of a ship’s sail as Forsythe’s footsteps retreat.

The only clothing he’s wearing is a pair of filthy, torn linen trousers, yet despite the chill of this subterranean basement, I can feel his body radiating heat.

My heart ratchets beneath his gaze, and I find myself awkwardly stepping forward and offering my hand. Despite who I sense this male is to me, it doesn’t make our introduction any less awkward. If anything, the weight of it makes it doubly so.

“Hello. My name is Elowen.”

He attempts to step forward, but the chains prohibit any further movement. I dare another step to where his hand can finally reach mine. Calloused and impossibly long, thick fingers embrace my offered hand, and I swear to God—every atom in my body seems to vibrate with blissful energy as heat coils low in my belly, weaving itself with the tendril of fear that this could all go very, very wrong in the blink of an eye. That doubt slithers into the back of my mind, whispering that I am as mad as my mother—wholly negligent of the fact that I never truly believed her mad, but merely misunderstood and endowed with a gift that even she couldn’t fully grasp.

My survival instinct feels like I’m toeing the line with death, taunting it. Yet here I am. Ready to fling myself bodily at the male before me.

He repeats my name as if savoring a pleasant flavor.“Elowen...My name is Sariel.”

My reply is breathless. “Sariel… It’s lovely to meet you. Despite the abominable circumstances.”

His smile is sad, and it inspires a soul-deep longing within me—to make it reach his eyes. To witness what I know would be an awe-inspiring sight. My tongue sweeps out nervously to lick my lips, and even though he has no pupils, I canfeelhis eyes track the movement. Electric energy seems to course between usas he continues to hold my hand between his, only finally letting go when we hear the scuffing of boots and squeaking wheels approaching.

Sariel gives a subtle tug, pulling me closer to him before he releases my hand just as Evandriel appears, pushing a cart that boasts a variety of objects. If there’s a daemon, in any sense of the word, in this room, it ishim.A grin that makes my gut churn with dread spreads across his deceptively handsome face. “I see the two love birds are getting along.”

Fear spears through me—that somehow this male knows—though I refuse to show it.

Evandriel unlocks the cell and rolls the cart inside before lifting a large, steaming bucket of water from the bottom shelf of the trolley and setting it down on the floor. “Bath.”

He then tosses a large sponge and a bar of soap inside and sidles up to the cart, lifting objects to explain each one’s purpose. “Iodine. After you bathe him, swipe the sample site with this sterile gauze and use this scalpel to make a one-square-centimeter-sized incision—in both width and depth—and place it within this receptacle.”

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