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When Raphael sighed in exasperation, his breath tickled the back of my neck. Right over the spot he’d bitten.

“Whatever you’re thinking, I suggest you stop and just sleep.”

My eyes flew open.

How did he know?

“I’m not thinking anything,” I hissed, noting my teeth no longer chattered.

I felt, more than heard, the rumble of his chuckle. “Now, we both know you’re not capable of having less than ten thoughts in a second, Samara.”

“Well, I’m not having any right now.”

“I can scent the truth.” His whispered words sent a shiver down my spine—and not from the cold.

“You… you can smell when someone is telling the truth?”

He chuckled, a low, strained sound. “I can scent the evidence from you that your thoughts are a bit, let’s say, amorous.”

I flushed, my cheeks suddenly warm against the frigid air. “There’s nothing to scent.”Dear gods, please let there be nothing to scent. I squeezed my thighs, trying to will my desire away. In doing so, I accidentally brushed closer to Raphael, something moving against my back.

My cheeks weren’t just warm. They were blazing.

“If it makes you feel better, you’re not the only one affected.” There was that low, strained chuckle again.

“There’s nothing to scent, I told you. Your nose must be defective.”

“There’s not a part of me that’s defective, I assure you. Though I do love how easily you lie,” he mused. “Not a talent I ever acquired.”

“You’ve probably never had to.” I wasn’t sure why I said it. The cold, the exhaustion, the proximity where I wasn’t meeting his gaze. Or just because I didn’t want to discuss myotherthoughts any further.

“There’ve been times I wanted to,” Raphael admitted. “But vampires aren’t capable of telling untruths.”

I shifted slightly at his answer and immediately regretted it. Because it was obvious, I wasn’t the only one havingthoughtsin the tent.

“You expect me to believe vampires are always honest?” I countered, trying to move the conversation past anychance to mention we both knew I’d just felt his erection press into me.

“Not hardly. We merely cannot tell untruths, and that’s not the same thing. In the vampire courts, twisting words is a great game, though I can’t say it’s one I care for.”

Not unlike the courts of King Vaughn, then. My mother had been a master at the game—until she’d lost grievously.

“But you lie when you thrall people. You tell them they see things that aren’t there.”

“That’s different. It’s less a lie and more of a command on the mind.”

Some good that was, then. Instead of trying to poke holes in the logic of vampire magic, I asked, “What’s Damerel like?”

“Damerel sits inside the Western Vampire Kingdom. It’s—”

“Wait.” Another jerk before I could stop myself, and a loosening of breath from Raphael I wanted to drink in even though I made myself ignore it and the accompanying pulse at my back. “What do you meanWesternVampire Kingdom?”

“There are three realms ruled by vampires,” Raphael explained. He didn’t seem surprised I wasn’t aware of this. “The North, the West, and the South. The West, seated at Damerel, is the strongest. The South is the most populous and richest. The North is… I supposeunusualis the most succinct way to describe it.”

I didn’t want succinct, but I forced myself to process what he’d said. Multiple Vampire Kingdoms. I’d never considered it.

“Damerel,” he continued, “is inside a mountain. Its walls are carved from the mountain stone itself, allowing people to shelter themselves from the sun. It could be considered a palace from that view, but it’s the size of a city, with three layers. The base is the common folk, then the merchants and commerce levels, and then the seat of the Crown, where the aristocrats and king live.”

We’d be going to the base of a mountain. I tried to imagine it but came up empty; all I could picture was Greymere. It was hard to read Raphael’s tone. He described the mountain-city in neutral terms. There wasn’t any longing in his voice, nor any contempt.