“For now.”
He raises an eyebrow, somehow managing to look both wicked and earnest at the same time. “As much as I would love for you to benefit from my blood’s healing properties, I wouldn’t dare give it to you again until I understand why you were able to do that. We can’t have you melting the table in front of your family now, can we? They’ve got enough on their plates already.” He chuckles softly. “They’re still coming to grips with me.”
“Very well. Pour me a glass. If I end up putting a hole in the table, it’s all on you.”
“You won’t. This is Ciel’s exceptional Tusganes merlot without any magical intervention.”
“Your blood isn’t a curse if it can heal.”
“I’ve heard that before. But there’s always a price to these things, Finley.”
“It’s the thirst, isn’t it?” I say gently, my voice little more than a whisper. I know he can hear me amidst all the commotion.
He pours the rich red wine into my crystal glass and hands it to me. Our fingers meet ever so briefly.
Corvan leans close. His arm brushes against mine. I’m surrounded by his scent. He feels dangerously powerful and intimately familiar. His presence really is maddening. How is it possible that in such a short period of time, he’s able to have this effect on me?
“It’s the thirst,” he admits, whispering in my ear, his breath feathering my cheek. He’s too close, and people are noticing. “Amongst other things. It’s the fact that if I don’t control myself, I could kill someone. It’s the fact that I know every single thing that’s happening in this room right now. Whispered conversations across the other side of the hall. Their breaths. Their heartbeats. I can smell their blood. But I choose to shut them out in favor of you. Or you shut them out for me, because your presence is overwhelming. It’s the swift healing; the thought that I might not ever age, the impossible power, the speed at which I move, and then sometimes I forget that I’ve done so—shocking people unintentionally. It’s the fact that up until I met you, I couldn’t feel the warm sun on my face. It’s the realization that I’m no longer human, and I can’t ever go back to that, and sometimes I fear what I’ll be like when a lot of time has passed, living in this body.”
In the golden glow; in the gentle warmth, I take a sip of the rich, spicy wine. It dances on my tongue and sends a molten caress down my throat.
No strange effects this time.
Thank the Goddess.
“You’re wondering what it’s like to be one of them again, don’t you?”
He moves closer, until his lips are almost brushing my ear. “I didn’t ask for this. I don’t understand it. There are times when I wish I could sit amongst my men and banter, but those days are long gone. I’m just fortunate that they trust me enough to remain under my command. Otherwise, I would have disappeared a long time ago.”
“Were you ever tempted?”
“Once or twice. But if I did that, Tyron would be defenseless, and all these people would know hard and destitute lives. The Imperial Palace won’t care for them, even though it was father who sent them off to war. I must be the feared archduke in the north, Finley, because people would suffer if I cut ties with this place… with everything that I was in my old life. And I’d become a monster. That’s why I stay. Even if it wasn’t my intention, I thank the Goddess I’ve found you.”
“But I’m human, too. Will that not cause problems, eventually?”
“Are you, really?”
Heat rises in my cheeks. “Of course I bloody am. And I don’t think you’re as terrible as you think you are, either.”
“You aren’t afraid of me?”
“In the beginning, I was, but now… I don’t think I should be.”
Thud!
In the background, another fighter hits the mats, down for the count. A roar goes up from the crowd.
On the table in front of us, alongside the crystal decanter, is an elegant silver pitcher. Corvan takes it and pours a drink of his own.
The liquid’s the same color as my wine, but it’s thicker; more viscous.
“Corvan, what is this?”
He puts his nose to the rim of his glass and takes a deep breath. “This is blood from a young maiden in Sanzar.”
“A maiden? You didn’t…” A sudden rush of anger burns through me; hot and bright.
“She’s fine. It’s a good deal on her end. Earned enough to buy her family a new house.”
“Why?” My anger turns into something else.
My thoughts become irrational. It should only be me.
“Because I needed to know…” He closes his eyes and swirls the glass, raising it to his lips. I watch in fascination as he takes a sip. The blood stains his pale lips. “Whether anything else compares to the taste of you.”
“And?” I want to take that damn glass from him and tip its contents all over the floor.
“It doesn’t. Not even close. But it will at least keep my thirst at bay so that you have time to recover from me.”
A puff of exasperated relief escapes my lips. Why do I feel so relieved?
Why does he look somewhat… pleased? As if my reaction is what he wanted?
Why do I want him to put his lips on my neck again; to feel the sharpness of his fangs as they sink into my skin?
My head swirls. The background noise becomes a roar in my ears. Corvan fills every other part of my consciousness.
The last contender falls. Kaithar’s there, dancing across the floor, graceful and dangerous, holding up the arm of a man and pronouncing him the winner.
On a long table in the center of the hall, the last of the banquet is laid out. There’s suckling pig and roast turkey and pheasant and winter vegetables with pickled berry sauce and rich gravy. The tantalizing smell of freshly baked bread makes my stomach rumble.
Soldiers and servants exchange money, some winning, some losing. Drinks are poured. Congratulations given. Corvan acknowledges the winner with a smile and a lazy salute.
The man, bloodied and bruised, his dark hair plastered with sweat, grins and bows.
As I look around the room, seeing smiling faces and warmth; men acting like brothers, and my own brothers alive and well after a nightmare, it occurs to me that Corvan needn’t have arranged all of this.
None of this is for him.
It’s for everyone else. The soldiers and the servants and my brothers.
And me.
He’s showing me how he rules his world.
28
FINLEY
Corvan leans across, placing his hand over mine. “The night is growing long,” he says softly, “but my men will probably be at it until the birds start chirping. Would you like to escape with me?”
I hesitate.