Page 21 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
Weak. Helpless. Guilty.
The pain in her chest became a harsh stabbing, and a pounding started in her head. She shivered, coldness spreading through her body.
Vampires never felt cold, unless…
Realty came crashing back around her. Blood still seeped from her finger. A pool twice as large as last time gathered on the stone floor. Aryana could make out the outline of her reflection in it.
“We finished.” Zarathos’s voice swam to her in her haze.
Something was wrong. She opened her mouth to respond, but the coldness was in her limbs, piercing, harsh. She attempted to take a step, but her legs gave out and the floor came rushing up to meet her.
Chapter 7
Zarathos
Aryana lay crumpled on the floor, her eyes slitted, barely conscious. Zarathos heard her heart pumping in her chest, slow, unsteady, ready to give out at any moment.
That was that.
He’d fulfilled his bargain, made a reasonable effort, told her how to go about things so everything would turn out correctly.Shechose not to listen. His powers would remain intact if she died. Zarathos had warned her she couldn’t make it through another spinning.
And now she’d pay for it with her life.
Unlesshe offered her his blood. Demons were similar enough to humans that it would sustain her, at least for a little while. Thethought had him automatically shutting the door on the option. Nobody.Nobodydrew blood from Zarathos. Ever.
Besides, it wasn’t like he was in top form. He’d spent the day running around, making sure everything was moving in order to secure her release. He hadn’t had time to hunt for himself. Though the spinning wheel didn’t take as much energy as the loss of blood took from Aryana, it was draining. His whole body felt as if it had trudged through a bog of mud with no relief, and the effects of ravenousness were beginning to set in. He’d planned on going hunting after their meeting tonight. It had almost been three days since he last fed.
He was in no condition to share with the vampire princess.
He stared at her unmoving form, her loose, midnight brown hair splayed across the harsh stone floor. Her lips, naturally red, appeared washed out. Her skin, which matched the paleness of the moonlight, had taken on a sallow quality, the contrast of her black dress against it granting her a ghostly hue. It really was a pity. After what Zarathos had beheld of her life, it probably was best that he didn’t analyze everything he’d seen and felt inside Aryana’s memories. How her uncle had used her and manipulated her, and the devastating realization when she realized she’d never gain his approval. The woman’s recollections made his heart twist with emotions he’d long buried for his own safety.
And with her gone, he didn’t have to put any names to anything. He could simply write it off as another broken bargain.
But the Demon Trials were coming up.
And Aryana was the key to uniting the scepter.
If Zarathos managed that, he’d almost certainly secure victory in the trials and keep his kingship. The scepter would empower and protect him far more than any ordinary magical sword.
It was the best deal he had struck in many years.
Damn it. He needed her.
“Aryana.” He knelt beside her helpless body that lay next to her own pool of blood. She had to have it fresh to heal and rejuvenate.
Otherwise, she’d die.
He hissed at what he was about to do. Gods, he was taking a risk. But he had her under the power of a bargain. He could control what she did with what she discovered about him, at least until after the trials were concluded.
And after that, well, he wouldn’t have to worry about her after.
There was only one winner.
Casting his cloak aside, he rolled the sleeve of his ebony shirt up to expose his bicep. Whatever happened, he needed to keep his next actions hidden. He drew his clawed nail down a vein. The blood bubbled up, leaking out.
He gripped her head, sliding his fingers into her hair to tilt it back. Drawing a finger over her lips, he remembered their softness, how it was to have them pressed against his. How much he’d enjoyed her nearness, her touch. That sleeping beast that lurked under his skin, just out of sight, stirred. He shook his head. Not now, damn it. Focus.
He split her lips open and brought his bleeding arm close. “Aryana, drink.”
