Page 24 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
He snarled again. He hadn’t realized that her venom and his blood would be such a potent mix. Damn her. If she’d only listened to him. If she’d only drank from the human, they wouldn’t be in this mess. He released her, his mind spinning with all the consequences of what had barely happened.
She’d tasted his blood.
She was now his Bloodbound and technically held a claim to his throne. Demon arch kings had many lovers and, therefore, potential heirs. But theyneverBloodbound themselves to anyone because it created an unbreakable bond between two creatures and gave them a magically binding right to the other’s title.
She was becoming a liability. Too much of one.
But she was bound by the bargain. He could still work with this. At least until they had a chance to try for the scepter.
He stood, the heat of their earlier interaction cooled by the fear and bitter anger burning through him. He stumbled a little, ravenous, weak. Simple blood didn’t sustain most demons in the same way it did vampires. He had to eat. He glared down at the vampireprincess. “If you want to live through the Demon Trials, you will tell no one what happened here tonight. We never tasted each other’s blood. There is no Bloodbinding between us.”
Something dangerous was evident in her expression. “Are you threatening me?”
“If you’d like to think of it that way. If the demons found out that I was Bloodbound to…you…” He growled the last word. “Then it would be a quick death for both of us in the Demon Trials. Telling anyone will be seen as violating our bargain.”
“So even if you somehow survive the fallout, it will be my demise regardless.” Blood leaked from her thigh. A slight flush covered her normally pale cheeks, and her long, silken hair tangled slightly, giving her a wild, untamable allure. Despite his burning hunger, despite his raging anger, some primal part demanded he take notice.
He straightened, jerking his trousers closed before detaching the needle and tucking it in his cloak. “I’m glad to see you’re not a complete imbecile. Maybe you will survive this bargain, if you could manage a bit more self-control.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but he reached for the shadows and pulled them close. They wrapped around him in obeisance, and he held onto them, willing himself away. He searched the nearby forest, seizing new shadows, releasing the old and pulling his body into their safe folds.
When they cleared, trees surrounded Zarathos. His hands trembled. The ravenousness inside of him was getting unbearable. Vampire blood had revived him, but he needed more. He needed to hunt.
But before that, he jerked a small vial of clear liquid out of his pocket and downed its contents. The ash-like taste slid over his tongue and down his throat. He wasn’t supposed to take it this soon since his last time, but the damn Vampress’s venom had somehow started neutralizing the effects of the potion. Zarathos could never be without his elixir.
With a growl, he corked the empty vial and stashed it back in his robes.
His hunger returning to the forefront of his mind, he cast about, sniffing the air for something, anything. The breeze carried the scent of a rabbit hiding in the brush. With a snarl, he moved, descending on the poor creature so quickly there was no opportunity for it to react. He bit into the raw flesh of its throat. Its lifeblood flowed refreshingly into his mouth and down his hands. The small animal gave a last shudder and expired, and he didn’t waste any time in devouring his meal.
“How did it go tonight?” The voice coming from behind might have startled him, if he hadn’t sensed Pithian’s presence nearby the moment he appeared from the shadows.
Zarathos cleaned the final ounce of flesh from his prey before answering. “The princess refused to drink from the human you gave me and ended up a puddle on the floor an inch from death.”
There was a startled silence. “But she did survive?”
“Sure,” Zarathos snarled. “After I provided her some of my blood.”
And an even longer silence. “You didn’t.”
“I had no choice. I want the scepter.”
“Why did she—”
“There’s more.”
Pithian sighed. “Go on.”
Zarathos looked at his crimson-stained hands. All that was left was a small pile of bones. “She took too much. I lost control. She lost control… I passed out and… she used her blood to revive me.”
This silence lasted the longest of all. “It’s a harvest moon.”
“Oh really? I missed that minor detail,” he said sardonically.
Pithian swore. “I told you this was a bad idea.”
He set the skeletal remains into the weeds and rose. “The princess is bound to me until the trials are over. And we know how that will end for her.”
“If she keeps her damn mouth shut.”
