Page 76 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
She knelt on the floor, her skin cracking and splitting. Carefully, she pressed his face away from her, making his throat accessible. The sound of his beating heart, the flow of his blood in his veins, made her want to lose herself completely, but she held back. Not yet. Her teeth sharpened.
Leaning forward, she ignored his slight flinch and intake of breath as she inserted her fangs into his skin.
Crimson flowed over her tongue, metallic and exquisite. She pulled more and more, letting her bloodlust take over, grasping him closer, her nails digging into his clothes, taking without abandon. She already noticed her body gaining strength. The agony that was every second of her existence receded.
The last drops of a human’s blood were the sweetest, a temptation few resisted once they’d gone that far. Her ravenous hunger reached a peak. She wanted more; she wanted it all.
A bonus to finishing off a life. She took the last vestiges, siphoning the final drop.
She sat back, wiping her mouth when she finished, observing the man’s dead, pale face. “Your family will be provided for. Go in peace.”
Rising, she glanced around the small cell she was now locked in. “Zarathos,” she said his name, a little above a whisper because she didn’t like the idea of bringing any guards upon her. A Bloodbondwas meant to bridge any distance, to feel when the other needed them, regardless of how far apart they were from each other.
A moment later, he stepped out of the darkness. He touched the spot on his bicep where his Bloodbound mark lurked under his clothes. “You called?”
He didn’t look pleased to be summoned by her. Even so, he took her hand, and he pulled her through the shadows into the castle, coming to the hallway outside his bedchamber. He dropped her hand and opened the door, allowing her inside.
She entered the room and faced him as he followed. “You knew that man already met my requirements,” she said, observing him carefully. “Why did you still make a deal with him?”
He snapped the door shut but didn’t move away from it, his palm on the latch, something wary in his expression. “You’re so picky. I had to make sure you had no reason to turn him down.”
“You were worried I wouldn’t drink?”
“Aryana, you were almost burned to death. You needed blood, or you’d die.” A muscle feathered in his jaw. “I didn’t want any unexpected barriers.”
Her gaze traced the fine press of his lips, the uncertain light in his eyes—small betrayals of his anxious mind. “Thank you.”
His eyes shifted away, his hand falling to his side. “Don’t thank me, Vampress,” he said quietly. “Not when I’m the cause of all this.”
Gods, he almost sounded regretful.
She touched his sleeve, and they both stared at the gauze wrapping up her skin. “What you offered that man was merciful. And what you did for me was compassionate.”
Something angry sparked in his eyes. He jerked away from her and she stumbled back as he spun toward her, raging and dangerous. “Compassionate.” He let out a rough laugh. “What makes you think I am doing anything other than keeping my investment alive?”
“I thought that—”
“I am the demon arch king. You are nothing to me but a tool I am using to get what I want.” He sneered at her, reaching for the latch. He jerked the door open. “Remember that, Vampress. You are merely a means to an end.”
Those words scorched through her, pulling up memories of Vallin as he spat them at her, at the anguish locked up in her heart, and something angry and ugly rose inside. She spun away from him, stalking forward, searching for a weapon, something to stab him with, something that might inflict as much pain as he’d caused her. To hell with her bargain.
Grabbing the handle of a knife off the half-empty plate on his desk, she whirled to face him.
But he was gone.
Aryana released a cry and threw the knife across the room so hard it lodged into the wooden post of the bed. She hated Zarathos.
Somehow she’d find a way to fulfill her bargain and make it to the end of the trials, and then she’d be free of the demon arch king for good.
Chapter 24
Zarathos
Zarathos pulled the door to his bedchamber shut. He needed no guards at his entrance since a spell was placed there that only admitted those he allowed.
Everything inside his chambers would remain quietly safeguarded.
Shutting his eyes, he enticed the shadows around him and then moved forward, passing through them until he came to a timeworn storage closet on the fifth floor. Age and a musty smell indicated it had seldom been accessed. Old cleaning supplies sat forgotten in its corners. Although a few discarded articles ofclothing and an odd dull scent of arousal told him that everyone hadn’t completely abandoned the storage space.
