Chapter 33
Aryana
After they were out the door, Aryana was lifted into Zarathos’s arms. He looked around and then stepped toward the shadows. Immediately, they surrounded and pulled them in.
Wrong. Everything was wrong. What reason did the humans have to reject being saved? She’d risked so much to free them. In that instant, when she actually got the opportunity to protect, it proved useless.
As everything always seemed to be.
The inky darkness cleared. Zarathos had brought her to another jail cell. He spoke some words to the human that she didn’t pay attention to, then he set her down next to him. “Here, Aryana. Drink.”
And this time she did without asking questions. She trusted Zarathos had acquired the necessary consent. She bit into the man on the cot before her and took his blood.
The taste of it flowing past her lips was barely noticed. Everything inside her was numb. She’d given so much, fighting for her life and Zarathos’s life, and now… now she’d placed them both in worse danger than ever.
And despite all of that, Zarathos had basically declared her his queen.
A gentle caress brushed her cheek. “Aryana, it’s time to stop.”
Zarathos—the demon who’d trapped her, forced her into the bargain, and insisted she meant nothing to him—had protected her, even though it would likely cost them both their lives in the next trials.
Because of her. It was her fault, and she’d been willing to pay the price. But Zarathos must have known: some things couldn’t be undone.
“Vampress, you have to stop or you’ll kill him.” She released the man and sat back, her world having shattered into a thousand painful pieces.
“I messed up,” she murmured. A stinging started behind her eyes, and her hands curled into the tattered fabric of her dress.
“It doesn’t matter. You must rest,” Zarathos said.
It did matter. Somehow, she always managed to ruin everything. Regardless of her attempts, she failed to safeguard those in greatest need. In that moment, she’d truly believed she might save the humans, get them out. But they hadn’t wanted saving.
What kind of world was this, where humans willingly gave themselves over to pain and sacrifice, rejecting the chance at life and freedom?
It was a world she didn’t understand. One she knew she never fully would. She was a single thread in a tapestry, woven into the darkest parts, never destined to see the light.
It’s my fault. It’s my fault.
She thought of those she couldn’t save. Her father. Joy. The human town. And now she’d acted so rashly she wasn’t certain she’d be able to keep her bargain and save the humans. Oh gods, and what about Zarathos? She was going to get him killed, too.
A tear leaked down her cheek.
“You’re safe, Aryana,” Zarathos whispered. The brush of his finger stole away the moisture. “I am here. I’ve got you, my beautiful, insane, brave, selfless vampire princess.”
She buried her face in his shoulder. “I can’t save them. I can’t save them…”
“You don’t need to save anyone but yourself.” He stroked her hair as he spoke in a hushed tone. “Do you hear me? You aren’t the monster. I forced you into this. You are not to blame, you are not broken, you are not weak.”
She felt weak. Her world had been blasted open.
And the only one who offered words of comfort for her was her captor.