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He set the tray between us and leaned against the wall. There was enough space to sit, but I was thankful. He could clearly sense how uncomfortable I was and was giving me some distance.

But my discomfort was overwhelmed by the sheer number of questions threatening to bubble over.

“What do you mean? He can feel what I feel because he drank my blood?”

“Well, yes,” Amalthea said.

“Thea, it’s not for us to tell her this.”

“It’s my blood, so I certainly think I’m entitled to know what it means,” I snapped.

She looked between me and Iademos. “You have a point. It’s simple, when King Raphael drinks someone’s blood, a link is formed. He’ll be able to sense your emotions for the rest of your life.”

“Is that how it works for all vampires?” Gods, the taking of blood was an invasion, but this was beyond any horror I’d imagine.

“No, not at all. Very few vampires have that ability. I understand it’s rather overwhelming, given how much vampires drink. He’s not taken from the source in over a hundred years.” She paused, gauging the effect of her words on me. “And those he’d taken in the past out of necessity, he killed shortly after so he wouldn’t be bothered.”

My skin turned to ice.

“Biscuit?” she offered.

I took the biscuit. Then I ate three more after the first made me acutely aware of how hungry I was. “If Raphael is going to kill me because of my pesky emotions, I might as well die with a full stomach.” Crumbs sputtered at the corner of my mouth around the words, any semblance of manners forgotten.

Amalthea’s eyes flew wide. “Oh, no. I’m sure he wouldn’t.”

I wasn’t. Right now, he needed me to translate the grimoire, or so he claimed. But a few months or years from now? When he was sick of being bombarded with my fear and stress and all those pesky mortal emotions?

But I’d ask Raphael directly about it later. There had to be a way to sever the link… besides the obvious. Him not mentioning it had to be deliberate though. If it was easy to sever whatever bond had formed, he’d have done so by now. Right?

“Now, where were we?” Amalthea said, obviously eager to change the subject.

“Before mentioning Raphael’s killed every human whose blood he drank, you were telling me the vampires and humans coexist peacefully.”

The witch winced. “I’m not saying there’s never any… friction. But generally, yes, it’s peaceful. The vampires here aren’t starving by any means, so there’s little danger from them. Feeding tends to occur only from donors.”

I frowned. “Donors?”

“Humans who offer up their blood to vampires,” she clarified.

I jerked back. “Why would anyone do such a thing?”

“For gold, mainly,” Amalthea explained. “There are many jobs open to humans here, but since blood donating is one thing vampires can’t do, it’s a lucrative avenue. From my understanding, it can be pleasurable work.”

The memory of Raphael’s fangs buried in my neck and the sensations it brought burned through me once more. Idrained my teacup to the dregs, desperate for anything else to focus on.

“Ready to train, then?” she asked as I set the cup back down on the platter.

I stood. “Please.”

But Amalthea didn’t stand with me. Instead, Iademos pushed off the wall.

I hadn’t forgotten the vampire was there, not quite, but I’d managed to relax temporarily. Now, I squared my shoulders and unsheathed the dagger. I doubted I’d be able to even scratch the vampire with it if I tried. Gods, I hated being weak.

Raphael trusts him. I tried to repeat the words enough to calm myself, but I had no doubt the vampire heard every quickening beat.

“You won’t be using that today,” the vampire said. At my confused look, he explained, “For one, you’re liable to cut yourself with it without training.”

“And for another?” I asked.