Page 105 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
It was a challenge. A test to see if she meant as little to him as he said, or to ascertain if it was a ploy. Zarathos glared at the group. If he backed off, they were as good as dead, but a piece of him didn’t care.
The vampress belonged tohim,and he was tired of pretending otherwise.
Aryana gripped his ankle and squeezed twice. Yes.
She understood this may be the only chance they had to recover from her actions, but Zarathos still wasn’t sure he cared. Their act tonight had been a long shot in the first place.
And yet, if there was even a possibility this could save Aryana’s life…
His lip curled. “Fine. Have at her.” He threw her into the room’s center and she slid across the floor, slowly pushing up onto her hands and knees, her eyes locking with Zarathos. Damn, he detected her fear, but in her gaze, he only saw her determination.
To be as brave as her.
Xaphoron approached, and he bent down. He took a long whiff of her, running his tongue along her neck. “My dear, you smell delectable.” He watched Zarathos with a sick delight as he curled his fist in her hair and tipped her head back. Zarathos forced himself notto react, though every muscle in his body was screaming to get his Bloodbound away from the monster.
He flinched inwardly when teeth penetrated her skin, his fists balling. Aryana kept her gaze fixed on Zarathos, a warning not to interfere. Xaphoron let loose a moan of pleasure. His grasp fell to Aryana’s waist, drawing her closer, his hands moving over her body. His claws ripped into her dress at her side, tearing a piece of fabric loose.
Aryana’s jaw squared, and she gave the slightest shake of her head.
But Zarathos didn’t fucking care. Red flashed before his eyes and he surged forward, wrenching him away from Aryana. He slammed his fist into the other demon’s face. Xaphoron fell back against the table, his mouth full of Aryana’s blood.
Zarathos advanced, ready to end him, but Pithian was there, inserting himself between him and Xaphoron. “No attacking other demons outside the arena. Watch your temper, Your Majesty.”
All Zarathos had to do was order him aside and he could finish ripping this demon to pieces. Pithian’s eyes flicked to the others in the room. The demons from kingdom Aeria stood, murder in their gazes, ready to do battle for their last champion in the trials.
Zarathos snarled at Xaphoron. “Lay a hand on her again, and you won’t live to regret it.”
He backed up to where Aryana watched with wide eyes, and he reached down, taking her chains and tugging her to her feet.
“This ismykalator. She ismine. Mine to punish. Mine to touch. Mine to kill. If anyone dares to lay a finger on her, they will be granted a swift death. That is a promise from your arch king.”
“Lies. She is your Bloodbound, your queen,” Xaphoron growled, scarlet dripping from his chin. “There is no binding agreement saying you have to kill your kalator in the trials if you win. That is your plan. You would place an enemy on our throne.”
“If I win the trials and remain your arch king, then that will be my decision to make.” Zarathos jerked on Aryana’s chains, drawing her close.
“We’ve never had a queen on the demon throne,” Xaphoron said.
“Then I suppose she’ll be the first.”
Some part of him recognized that he was ruining everything. Painting a giant target on their backs, and yet in the moment he didn’t give a damn.
His eyes fell upon Aryana, at the frown on her face, but there was something more that scared him more than anything: guilt and resignation. Her shoulders were slumped, her head bowed. Without looking back, Zarathos tugged on the chains. “Come.”
And with that, he led her from the room.
Chapter 33
Aryana
After they were out the door, Aryana was lifted into Zarathos’s arms. He looked around and then stepped toward the shadows. Immediately, they surrounded and pulled them in.
Wrong. Everything was wrong. What reason did the humans have to reject being saved? She’d risked so much to free them. In that instant, when she actually got the opportunity to protect, it proved useless.
As everything always seemed to be.
The inky darkness cleared. Zarathos had brought her to another jail cell. He spoke some words to the human that she didn’t payattention to, then he set her down next to him. “Here, Aryana. Drink.”
And this time she did without asking questions. She trusted Zarathos had acquired the necessary consent. She bit into the man on the cot before her and took his blood.
