Page 70 of The Blood that Binds Us

The beast shudders at my caress.

I move to its wounded side and grab the leather-bound hilt, bracing my other hand against its stomach for leverage, and rip the knife free. It lets out a sharp howl of pain, and blood pours from the wound, blood that it’s losing too quickly if it doesn’t shift back and heal, blood that… that smells so familiar.

Like hyacinths in the rain.

The knife falls from my hand, and I gasp as I inhale the scent of its blood. Its ears flicker at the sound, noting the realization on my breath, hearing the thrumming of my pounding heart.

No. It can’t be.

The smell of him flares my nostrils wide, and my mouth waters at the scent it never got to taste. He finally turns and faces me, his large, powerful paws inches from my leather sandals, and raises its head so it stands at full height before me. His face more closely resembles a cat’s than the canine likeness Eldridge and Thatcher shared, and set deep in its angled face are two brilliant eyes staring back at me.

Familiar, yellow-green eyes.

His eyes.

And then I feel it. The tugging in my stomach—the phantom tether buzzing with excitement at the proximity of its creator. The magic in my gut doesn’t lie. The smell of his blood in my nose, on my tongue, doesn’t lie.

My heart fractures with truth.

Sin slowly retreats into the brush behind him, the silhouette of his body disappearing within the trees, leaving only the eternal spring of his eyes visible through the woods, until those too, disappear.

He doesn’t knock before charging into my room, throwing the door open hard enough it slams into the wall, and his face, twisted into a mask of fury, envelops the threshold.

Dusaro.

I rise from my perch on the red cushioned seat in front of the vanity, ready to face the wrath festering in his deep brown eyes. I knew he would come.

“What. Happened?” he asks, spit nearly flying from his lips as he shouts the question at me.

“What?” I feign a recoil to suggest his intrusion was not one I stayed awake waiting for all night.

“Don’t play with me, girl. What happened with Bennett last night?”

I didn’t utter a peep to anyone when I left Bennett’s limp body in the woods last night, content to let his cold, lifeless corpse be a meal for the vultures and flies. And even that seemed too merciful for a predator of his kind. I barely slept a wink last night.

I waited forhim.

Wondering if Sin would come to my room after he shifted and healed, but the door I left unlocked never cracked open. A hundred questions plagued my mind through the night, followed by a thousand accusations and names I wanted to scream at him, but I won’t dare mention a word of it to Dusaro before I have a chance to speak with his son.

How can Sin be one of them? And why did he intervene if it meant risking I would discover his secret?

Sin appears in the doorway behind Dusaro, no sound of his footfalls preceding him. The weight of his stare is heavy, but I don’t drag my eyes away from his father. Not yet.

“Bennett and I went for a walk through the gardens, and we spoke for a while. His mind was clean, like I’ve said a hundred times before. He invited me to Summerswind, and I later excused myself to bed. He escorted me to the entrance, but said he was going to stay out for a little longer to enjoy some fresh air before retiring to his chambers,” I lie smoothly. “Why are you asking?”

“Bennett’s body was found this morning outside the keep.”

Outside the keep. He must have circled back and moved him after shifting, to hide that Bennett’s death happened inside the kingdom’s gates.

“Goddess above,” I whisper, hooking my finger over my mouth. “What happened to him?”

“Throat ripped out by one of those godsdamned monsters!” Dusaro hollers.

I dare a glance at Sin who watches me intently, his jaw clenched, but I swear the smallest hint of relief flashes in his eyes. “Retaliation, you think? For Thatcher?” I ask.

“Possibly. Unless it was one of our own,” Dusaro drawls.

I furrow my brow. “You just said it was a transcendent.”

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