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Raphael released the vampire,letting his body crumple to the ground. The vampire was still alive. He’d attack Raphael. Gods, Raphael could get hurt. I was rooted in my spot, unable to slow my heart enough to think past the roaring in my head that bleatedDanger, danger, danger!

But the vampire didn’t rise to attack Raphael. He prostrated himself, bracing his hands on the ground with his bowed head.

“You raised those hands at her,” Raphael snarled. His voice… I’d heard it like that only in the echoes of my nightmares of the Monastery initiation. “You reached for what was mine with those hands.”

“My king! I apologize. I did not realize she was yours. The scent of her blood overtook me. I forgot myself.”

My king, the vampire had called him.

I trembled at the word.King.

Enemy.

“See that you never do so again.” Raphael’s voice was colder than I’d ever heard it. “And let this serve as a reminder.”

He gripped the vampire’s wrists from the floor, and in one sickening movement Raphael ripped the vampire’s hands off.

The vampire howled. Raphael flung the dismembered hands down the hall, a trail of red, red, red blood spraying over the walls.

“Should you or anyone else lay a hand on what’s mine, let your lives be forfeit. You live only as a warning to them.”

The vampire on the floor babbled his agreement, but Raphael was already facing me once more. I tore my gaze from the sobbing vampire to face him. His gaze was still icy, utterly opposite to how he’d been the night before. He grabbed my wounded wrist and lifted it high. I stared up in confusion, then gasped as he lifted my palm to his lips and gave it a lick.

But he wasn’t looking at me. Around us, a crowd had gathered. He removed his mouth, but held my arm high, as though I were some trophy.

King.

“This woman is mine. No one is to touch her.” He addressed them easily, like it was his birthright. “To do so is to forfeit your right to a quick and easy death.”

No. It couldn’t be. The way he’d been beaten, captured… there was no way I’d been traveling for weeks with the king of vampires. My mind scrambled for any other explanation, grasping at vapors.

But the crowd all dipped to a knee in deference.

When they rose, all I could see was the sea of red. We were surrounded on both sides, hungry eyes looking at me, bright, wanting.Oh gods. My heart was a frantic drum beating in alarm faster and faster. The sharp inhale of my breaths turned into me choking. I couldn’t get the air out fast enough before I sucked more in. My gaze swung wildly from eyes to eyes to eyes. I tried to shut mine, but they were still there, a vision of red, red, red all around me.

My knees buckled. Someone grabbed my arms before I fell. Raphael. Concern was etched on that now familiar face.

But all I saw were the red eyes.

The blood.

I fainted.

When I came to, all the vampires were gone.

All except Raphael. He stood across the room, arms folded. He’d changed, bathed. His white hair was slicked back, his face freshly shaven. He’d traded the stolen cloak and tunic for clothing befitting of royalty.

The room matched his station. It was a sprawling space, with a hearth on the far side where a small fire blazed, and two distinct seating areas: one in front, and one by me. I was lying on a low couch made of purple velvet. My fingers traced the texture, trying to ground myself in the surroundings.

“Tell me it’s a misunderstanding,” I croaked.

Raphael said nothing.

The fog cleared and an incessant need pressed against my chest. “Tell me.”

Raphael shook his head. “I cannot.”

“The vampire… he called you his king.”