CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO #4
I broke the kiss, my chest heaving, as I clutched at my heart.
Brenna stumbled back, shaking his head, before pushing his fingers through his curls in frustration. He turned away from me, shoulders shaking from exertion as he tried to compose himself before turning back.
He’d confused us, confused Olivay with Samara and Samara with Olivay, had been mixing them together. And was beating himself up for it.
“Fuck, Olivay—Princess.” He groaned. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—that was—Gods.”
I swallowed roughly, still out of breath as I shook my head. “No, don’t apologize. I wanted you, too.”
“I swear to the Gods, I did not bring you here for this.”
I reached for his shoulder, a retort on the edge of my tongue, something Samara would say. A line to get him to continue, to keep paying me, feeding me. Didn’t you?
But I bit my lip, forcing myself and the Azete down, forcing myself to remember.
I was Olivay now. And Brennan was—he was …
He will die.
“This is not the actions of a prince.”
“I don’t think your title can be undone so easily.
” I clutched my chest, desire still rippling through me.
“I know your character. I know you didn’t bring me here for this,” I said, but still, his energy was streaming, feeding the Azete, feeding me, though not as powerfully as before. “I am also at fault. I shouldn’t have—”
“No.” He stepped back, like he needed to create literal space between us, and took my hand, kissing my palm.
I shivered beneath his touch.
“I shouldn’t have let things get so far,” he said. “Not like this, not before-before the wedding.”
I nodded. “The wedding.”
He pressed his forehead against mine, his eyes squeezed shut. “Forgive me.”
“You’re forgiven,” I said, my lips already tingling again with how close they were to his.
“You must think I'm an absolute scoundrel.”
I laughed. “I told you. If your title cannot be undone, you’ll have to do far worse than that to take away my good opinion of you.”
He smiled, then traced my arm again, his fingers sliding against the remaining bracelets, and sighed. “I truly did bring you here for honorable reasons.” He stilled, his expression finally serious again. His brows furrowed with worry. “I trust what I shared with you shall remain between us.”
“It will.”
“If he says anything to you to upset you, or make you uncomfortable, swear you will come to me. I mean to protect you in any way I can, from anyone who poses a threat, even if they are my blood.”
“I swear,” I said.
He took a long, deep breath, readjusting his clothing before offering me his hand. I watched anxiously, worried about how much energy he had left, how much of his life I’d just stolen.
His eyes glazed over, just for a second, but enough to tell me he’d taken a hit. A big one.
My stomach turned. He wasn’t going to recover from that loss of energy until tomorrow. He’d never recover the time I’d just stolen.
But he smiled warmly, as if completely unaffected. “I fear we’ve lingered here too long–much as I wish to stay. Are you ready to go back to the ball?”
I took his hand, my heart thumping, knowing his life had just been shortened by our encounter–that it would continue to shorten without him knowing. “Lead the way.”
When we returned to the ball, our guard dispersing around us, I immediately spotted Jaron. He was dancing not far from where we stood, his arms around another noblewoman, but one who seemed only on the verge of her womanhood. Brennan watched his cousin in disgust.
I squeezed his hand, then immediately released it, realizing his energy was still focused on me, still pouring into me, though it had slowed to a trickle.
Just then, a man with curly hair and a House Lafir sigil embroidered across his tunic waved Brennan over, something urgent in his expression.
He started to refuse, but I shook my head.
“Go ahead, my prince, see what he wants. I’ll be fine.”
Brennan bowed before me, taking my hand and kissing the palm again, leaving me in a full-body shiver. Promising he’d return soon, he nodded at the nobleman and vanished with him into the crowd.
I stood off to the side, watching the dancers, the musicians, carefully noting one dancer in particular who seemed to be absent. Cecelia.
I prayed she’d listened to me, prayed she’d found safe passage.
A few nobles gestured for me to dance, but I didn’t want to go back into the fray.
House Kanos was in the center, and after what had just transpired with Brennan, all the energy I’d stolen, the lifeforce I’d swallowed, I couldn’t bear to hurt anyone else, couldn’t bear to feed again, even if the Azete remained alert.
I took a glass of wine when a servant passed and had a sip.
My nerves were still on edge as I finished the glass and was offered another.
But it didn’t help. There was a crawling feeling moving up my spine.
A specific kind of sensation that didn’t merely come from being watched, but from the presence of another demonos.
Another Azete.
My heart hammered, and as I turned around, I came face to face with Geoffrey.