Page 2 of Gua rdian of Blood and Shadow

My chin trembled. “Likeyou.” I turned away, pulling free and retreating to the far side of the fireplace. “But I understand if you prefer a platonic relationship,” I said, hugging myself. Why did it feel like I was losing him all over again when I’d only just found him?

Gavin’s last kiss haunted my lips. Every touch from Javier felt like a blessing and a betrayal simultaneously. Was this what it meant to be a queen? Holding contradictions without shattering, loving so many so deeply, feeling joy and grief at once?

“I didn’t say that.” Javier stood behind me again. His hands settled on my shoulders, thumbs tracing my neck. He brushed my damp hair aside, and I felt the whisper of his lips over my carotid, the faint brush of teeth.

My pulse thrummed, my blood calling to him. I tilted my head, silently offering my neck. Even as heat rushed through me, my heart ached for Gavin.

The queen in me knew this was necessary. Each bond strengthened me. Gavin himself had urged me to complete these connections, and his sacrifice would be meaningless if I didn’t use this opportunity to embrace my power. But the part of me that was still Sophie Matthews from Seattle whispered this was wrong, that happiness was undeserved while he remained a prisoner.

Javier stepped forward, his body pressing flush against my back, one hand settling on my abdomen. A low growl reverberated through his chest as he grazed his teeth over my skin once more. I covered his hand with mine, threading our fingers together. His other hand curved around my neck, cradling my jaw. When his teeth cut through my skin, the initial sharp bite of pain transformed into blissful euphoria between one heartbeat and the next.

Guilt dissolved, burned away by the fire in my blood. This wasn’t betraying Gavin. It was honoring his sacrifice. I would become strong enough to save him. The queen in me embraced this truth while the woman mourned.

I gripped Javier’s hand tighter, pressing back until I felt his growing hardness. His fingers flexed around mine, his erection pressing into my lower back. He’d said platonic was possible, not that he wanted it.

And neither did I.

I dragged his hand lower, toward the place throbbing with need—for him. Close enough for him to understand what I wanted, but not all the way. His choice, not mine. I wouldn’t force his hand while bloodlust clouded his judgment.

His fingertips dug into my pubic bone, close enough to make my clit pulse but nowhere near enough to ease the ache between my thighs. He tore his mouth from my neck, nuzzling my damp hair while holding me tight. The bite wound tingled as he initiated healing with a smear of his own immortal blood.

“Sophie,” he said, breath ragged. “It’s been a very long time since I—”

He’d fed while I showered, but I hadn’t sensed lust through our weakened bond. He really hadn’t taken more than blood since returning? What about with the other queens? The thought flashed through my mind. Had he shared more with them than blood? The thought tied my stomach in knots.

“I can’t guarantee I’ll be gentle,” he warned.

My thighs squeezed together at the suggestion. “That’s fine,” I rasped and turned in his hold.

His features were tense, his pupils blown wide in his rich brown eyes, his lips stained red with my blood.

“Gentle isn’t really my thing,” I said, my gaze shifting from his eyes to his lips and back.

Half-truth. Each connection pulled different needs from me—Gavin, Bastian, Ash. With Javier, I sensed he needed control, reclaiming power after years without it. And maybe I needed to surrender control after days of impossible decisions.

His jaw clenched, his hand fisting my shirt. “What is your thing?” he asked roughly.

“Right now?” I pressed closer. “You.” I licked my lips. “Are you recovered enough for me to…” My focus dropped to his neck.

My salivary glands tingled in anticipation. But after everything—his imprisonment, torture, and feeding over a dozen queens for so long—was he ready for a fullcommunion? I reached through our bond but hit a wall, blocking me from his thoughts and feelings.

His throat bobbed as he nodded.

“Do you want me to?” I asked. “I would understand if—”

“Yes,” he said, the word clawing up his throat. “Do it.” Almost a plea.

Heart pounding in time with the throb between my legs, I traced his pulse point. His fist pressed me closer, his hardness digging into my belly. I leaned in, tasting him with my tongue, imagining his blood’s flavor. I couldn’t remember his taste. It had been so long.

I bit down, teeth digging deeper until skin broke and his immortal blood entered my mouth.

My taste buds exploded—sweet raspberries dipped in bitter dark chocolate. I groaned, pulling more of him into me. He wrapped his arms around me, lifting my feet off the floor. As his blood flowed into me, I felt our shared history, the magic binding us deeper than blood.

This was memory made liquid. Childhood laughter. Reading on the floor together. Band-Aids on skinned knees. A shoulder to cry on. Endless sacrifice and worry and fear. And love.

And now desire. An all-consuming need to give himself to me in a completely new way.

Through the haze of passion, Gavin’s face appeared in my mind—not accusatory, but resigned. Understanding. His final words echoed in my mind:I will return to you.A promise I’d hold on to, a vow I’d make damn sure came true.

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