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Raphael grimaced slightly, setting the other flute on the railing. “Demos speaks too easily. I don’t boast half-measures.”

“What happened to her being a random girl? Unworthy of your attention?” I downed my glass, keen to feel the burn down my throat even as it made me sputter.

“Perhaps things should be different than how I first saw them.”

That was as mild an apology as there could be, if it even counted. But the true apology wasn’t found in words. It was in the fact he was looking for the killer. I set the glass down next to his and stepped closer. At this distance, his scent wrapped around me, complementing the night air.

“Are you only doing this to please me?”

I wanted him to deny it.

But vampires could not lie.

“Yes.”

I turned away. What was I to do with that? Gods, they were monstrous creatures. I’d seen proof over and over again. But could Raphael be better? Could I teach him better? Was such thinking hubris the gods would punish? Or would I kill him as planned, buy my freedom through Titus’s plot, only to have a crueler king take his place?

Guilt twisted in my stomach once more. I forced my gaze to the white-topped mountains while reinforcing my mental shield.

“Is it not obvious by now I seek to please you?” he murmured. He reached for my cheek, but I turned away. It was too much to have him this close, in those gentle tones.

“You were going to kill another human tonight if I hadn’t volunteered.”

How could I look at a man like that as though he was anything but evil?

“I was,” he confirmed. “A prisoner was reserved for the occasion, vile even by your standards, I’m sure.” I glanced back, uncertain. Was that true? Was it any better? His gaze didn’t waver as he continued: “But that does not absolve me, little viper. I would kill a thousand innocents to spare you any pain.”

I couldn’t be near him. I strode away, my knees shaking as I forced myself to put distance between us.

But Raphael followed me. He cornered me in a small carved-out alcove.

“Don’t run, Samara. Not from me.”

If I let him catch me, truly hold me the way I’d always craved… it would destroy me.

“You claim you seek to please me, but you planned to take my blood this entire time. You made me your Chosen, and you knew that this was a Chosen’s role.”

Raphael lifted his hands, bracing them on the top of the alcove as he leaned in. “I have no intention of taking whatyou do not wish to give. You give, and you give, because you crave acceptance. If you have any flaw, it is that. If you ever wanted my bite, I would give it to you, and we both know you’d like it.” He leaned closer. “You haunt my thoughts constantly, yet I fear I am not in yours with anything but contempt. Tell me, Samara. If I took you now, would you hate me? Regret me? Or would you crave me as ruthlessly as I crave you?”

I couldn’t answer him with words. Not as I took in his expression, like a barely leashed animal, and felt a hundred conflicting emotions. Not as I remembered my mission, and every cruel thing the vampires had done since I’d been born. Not as he caged me into the alcove, and for once, I didn’t feel trapped, but safe.

I surged forward and yanked the metal chain around his neck to pull him to me, and I kissed him.

I had never felt more powerful than the brief second when I felt his lips slack against me. For once, I had shocked the vampire king. Never more intoxicated than when he made a low, masculine sound against my lips and surged into the alcove. I didn’t know what I was doing, didn’t know how to name the hundreds of sensations sparking through my body. All I knew was him: his scent, his taste, the texture of his skin, the sounds he made against me. And my body answered in kind. I’d never known cedar could have such a dark edge, but I could taste it on his tongue as he took control of the kiss. There was nothingbut this moment, this desperate need to stay in my body, wrapped in all he was.

He was an enemy, king of the monsters I despised.

May the ninth hell spare me, he was everything I craved.

Raphael slipped one hand behind my neck, cushioning me from the jagged stone. His thumb just grazed my pulse point, my heart racing. Not with fear, but exhilaration. He groaned slightly and the sound went straight to my core.Want him.Need him. His other hand started at my waist and then dipped towards the front. When his hand slid over the sheath with my dagger, I felt his lips curl against mine.

“My little viper with her fangs,” he murmured before returning to the kiss.

A venomous, treacherous viper. But the thought was chased away when he caressed my body again.

He knew my body better than I did. Every touch was like a musician’s, masterfully stirring the song of my desire. He palmed me through the layers of my skirts, his grip firm and possessive as he moved past the dip in my legs. The sudden pressure made me gasp against his lips. His touch was new and exciting, but it also felt so, so right. Like he knew exactly what I needed. When I’d touched myself before, bare skin to bare skin, I’d only ever felt a fraction of what was muffled between the fabric now. I wrapped my arms around his back, as if to hold him there, but Raphael wasn’t going anywhere.

He continued to kiss me, hard, bruising, but I loved the sensation, the need it stirred in me. It was a hunger unlike any other. I’d felt the starts of it at times, watching him, in the kiss we’d shared in anger.