Chapter 38
Thirty-Eight
“Kosmina, wake up!” Silt gripped her shoulders, holding her at bay. “Mina!”
“Adham?” Her reddened gaze slowly grew focused. Then she twisted away from him, scrambling across the bed. “Oh, gods, what did I do?”
“Nothing. It’s fine. We’re fine.” He’d discounted her worries when she’d told him that vampires grew stronger in bloodlust; she’d just stunned him with her strength. If he hadn’t awakened when he did . . .
She sat against the headboard, curling her knees to her chest, her eyes welling with tears. Kosmina Daciano was such a courageous female, yet she still reminded him of a fragile desert rose. “The thought of harming you is like a blade to the chest.” She’d spared no worry for herself. Only for him. “We can’t go on like this.”
Whenever she’d expressed doubts, he’d given her the same assurances, the same lies: You just need more blood . . . the weapon might be ready tomorrow. . . . Gazing at her like this, he admitted, “The benefit of my blood seems to be wearing off.” The plague was resurging, and Enti would soon exile Kosmina. She would have to. “Princess, you’re succumbing.”
“You would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” she snapped, then looked aghast. “I’m so sorry. I’m not like this. Why would I ever try to hurt you? You who mean so much to me?”
Guilt was worse than a thousand years of withdrawal, made him just as nauseated.
“The plague is already changing me. I used to be shy. No longer. Logic once ruled me. Now emotions do. It’s a very uncomfortable situation to be in. Which you must understand very well since you’re living in a den of opium.”
Every minute was a struggle. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with her . . .
“I should have known this would happen,” she muttered. “My nightmares of biting you keep returning because they’re a warning. It’s time I heed it.”
“And what if you did bite me? Maybe that’s exactly what should happen. We’ve both dreamed of your taking blood from me. Could be for a reason.” Would it buy her more time? For what? Who is coming to save the day?
“Are you ready for me to know everything about you?”
He swallowed, and she clocked the movement. Just before her attack, he’d dreamed that she shared his memories and became one with him—but dreams differed from reality. He was the last person who needed to offer up his past. Still . . . “It’s what we must do.”
“And what if it backfires? Your memories could send me over the edge. I might attack you again.”
“I won’t let that happen,” he assured her. “Just think about it, all right?” Because no other scenarios existed for her here.
“I’ll give Enti another day or two. In the meantime, you can’t sleep around me anymore.”
Did Kosmina have that kind of time? He almost came clean about everything then, but she looked so tired. “Very well.” He took her in his arms, and they lay back down. “We’ll revisit this tomorrow,” he said, feeling as if his tongue were barbed.
“Hmm. Distract me, will you? Talk to me.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
She traced one of his tattoos. Though she didn’t understand their dark meaning, they’d seized her attention. With her little licks outlining each, she’d learned them with her mouth, making him twist in a mix of bliss and unease. The idea had struck him again that nothing was pure for him, all was sullied. Delight and disquiet forever battled inside him, just as they had when he’d smoked.
She murmured, “Tell me about these.”
“Maybe in the future. But not now.” He hadn’t uttered the word Inferi in centuries.
“ In the future , he says.” A soft laugh.
“Damn it, Kosmina.”
“Oh, come on, you can make jibes about my death, but I can’t?”
He did not make jibes any longer. “You act as if you know me so well? Then you tell me what the tattoos mean.”
“They have to do with your past as an Inferi.”
The fuck? He leapt from the bed, snatching on his pants. “Enti told you.”
“No. She didn’t.” Kosmina was so calm in the face of his burning shame, he felt as if he’d been transported into some kind of horror tale where no one reacted as they should. “I deduced it. You’re a Sorceri, so it makes sense. Will you tell me about it?”
He began pacing. If Mina knew, then why had she proudly accompanied him to dinner? He pictured her with her chin up, her arm linked in his. “I’m not going to do this . . . this spilling of secrets between new lovers—the ritual exchange of woe. Other men do that. Not me.” Like that Ideal. The vampire king would surely do the ritual. “Why should I peel off my skin just to show you what lies beneath?”
“Because we are friends. Friends share their pasts.”
“Friends?” Kosmina Daciano coursed through him like his very lifeblood, but she wasn’t godsdamned sold on him? He stalked to the bed and palmed her nape. “To hell with your friendship! You’re not my friend . You fucking belong to me.” Until I’m done with you. The words might as well be hanging in the air.
Instead of agreeing with him and declaring herself his, she said, “You explained to me about the mechanical breakdown of stone into sand, but you won’t tell me about your woe?”
He dropped his hand and straightened. “What are you talking about?”
“Those processes aren’t unalike. They both shape . But at heart, we—and stone—are still the same. Can you not reveal what shaped you?”
Using his element to convince him? His very language against him? “You have no shame, and so you can’t understand it. But that won’t stop you from prying mine out of me.”
“No, it won’t—just as I would draw a sword from your side and give you relief from pain.” Like some kind of catharsis?
Wait, if she’d known his secret, then had she kissed his tattoos for . . . succor? To communicate acceptance? The idea sent him spinning. He began to sweat, palms flickering.
And now she expected him to recount his history when he was blisteringly sober. He glanced to the door?—
“Adham?”
That fucking name. A sandstorm must be pummeling him inside. He’d never wanted to smoke more than he did right now. “If I do this, you’ll tell me you belong to me alone. You’ll say the words.” He wanted her to tell him that he was her mate. Or would she get over Silt as effortlessly as she had Kristoff?
Her gaze never left his face. He could all but see her calculating her way through this interaction, while his jagged feelings were a coil of razor wire around his heart.
“I will say something to you that I’ve never said to another.”
He made a sound of frustration. “Fine, Your Highness. You’ll have your way tonight.” Swiping a hand over his chest, he said, “This reads, Upon pain of death, I will never be parted from my soul again .”
“How did you lose it?”
Dare, Silt. Just dare. “When I was a young boy, my own parents conspired against me to break my connection to sorcery forever.”