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Dukovich’s lips split into a wide smile as his gaze fell to mine. “You’d like that wouldn’t you, love? Having your hand wrapped around my cock?”

A gag lodged itself in my throat as I pushed him away and took a step out of his reach.

“You disgust me,” I spat.

He chuckled, running a hand through his thick, wavy hair, pushing it behind his ear as a few strands—too short to stay tucked away—fell back over his brow.

“I have to touch you in order to sense if any magic was left inside your mind. If you want my help, there is no way around it.” He said the words gently and I recoiled.

“Let me make one thingveryclear to you,” I hissed. “Ido not want your help but I have no other choice. I am only doing this for the people I care for. If it were just for me, I’d let the throne burn.”

“And I thought I was a pessimist,” Dukovich said, chuckling as he clicked his tongue. “Now, may I see what exactly these dreams are about?”

“Why are you helping me?” I asked, taking another step away from him and crossing my arms over my chest.

He took in a long breath, his eyes studying me as he slowly exhaled and lowered himself back into the chair.

“Despite what you may believe, my intentions have always been to help. Now, wemayhave started out on the wrong foot—”

“Started out on the wrong foot?” I snapped, cutting him off. “You fucking tortured me. Almost to death and you want to just casually say we ‘started out on the wrong foot’? That’s fucking rich.” I scoffed, the words bitter as they fled my mouth.

“Ineverlaid a hand on you. Inevertouched you,” Dukovich snarled, his eyes darkening with every word.

“And you think I would actually believe that?” I spat back.

“If you recall, when they brought you to the pit, I immediately gave you a tonic to lessen the burn of the Uthrens and any other pain that would be inflicted on you. Or have you conveniently forgotten that part of our little story?” he asked, and I could hear the bite in his voice.

“And that suddenly makes what you did to me okay?”

“I was still the High Priest. I had a role to play and it was either torture you myself, let my guards have their way with you, or let the High Priestesses and their minions soil their hands with your blood. I had no good option, but I was not about to let those fucking guards lay a finger on you knowing the vile things they wanted to do. So, I let the High Priestesses and their lackey’s handle your interrogation. I made the best choice I could given the circumstances. You were never supposed to be there in the first place.” His voice was a low growl as he leaned forward in his seat.

“One day, I will kill you for what you let them do to me,” I said, the promise slithering from my lips as my chest heaved.

“By all means, love, do try.”

We sat there staring at each other, my heart racing in my chest. I couldn’t stay here with him for a second longer. I couldn’t look at him.

“I am not doing this, not with you. I will find another way.”

Dukovich stood from his chair, his frame towering over me. “And I thought you were a fighter. It’s a shame really, to see that fighting spirit so broken.”

I stormed toward the door. If I stayed here a second longer I would kill him. Pushing past him, I reached for the door handle as he grabbed my wrist, pulling me backward.

My vision went black.

Sirens screeched through my ears as I whirled on him, snatching a dagger from its sheath and plunging it into his side.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I screamed, the sound snapping my vision back into place.

Blood was staining his tunic, drenching his fingers crimson as he grasped his side.

“I-I told you not to touch me,” I stuttered, staring at him wide eyed.

“You stabbed me.” He gasped, looking from his wound to me.

I reached for my dagger, quickly wrapping my fingers around the hilt.

“Don’t pull”—I yanked it from his side—“it out.” He winced as a low grunt left his throat. “Why the fuck would you pull it out?” he hissed.